Chapter 2: Lace Nightgown, Broken Hearts

But this month? He’d pretended to be drunk seven times.

Every time, at the last step, he’d say he wanted to sleep.

Seven times he got me all riled up, and seven times he just put out the fire—anyone would lose it!

Seriously? And now the barrage says this is all Ethan pretending?

He saw my reaction. Ignored it. Just kept playing dumb.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I mean, come on.

I shot up, mad as hell.

With a thud—

Ethan, who’d been leaning on me, suddenly hit the floor. He stared up at me, confused, testing the waters:

“Babe, am I too heavy?”

He looked up at me, eyes wide and innocent. Like a Labrador who just got caught chewing up the mail.

The word “divorce” was about to slip out of my mouth.

And right on cue, the barrage popped up again:

[Bro, check out the male lead—pants all bulging after falling on the floor!]

[And those pecs stretching that shirt, no wonder Savannah hasn’t brought up divorce in three years and never gone through with it.]

[Looks like he could split you in half.]

[Bet he could make your eyes roll back.]

[Bet it’s so good you’d see stars.]

[Maybe Savannah shouldn’t divorce yet? Girl, at least give seduction a shot!]

What a joke. Seriously.

I’d already said “divorce.” Too late to take it back now.

If I took it back now, I’d look pathetic.

“Too far from the couch. Let’s just rest on the floor for now.” I said it, rolling my eyes internally.

I sat down, and—God help me—my eyes drifted to his crotch.

I could feel my face burning.

My palms were sweating, too.

I pressed my hands into the carpet, willing myself to look away, but it was like trying not to stare at a car crash. I groaned inwardly. Why am I like this?

Ethan glanced at the couch—barely two feet away—then nodded, dead serious, and lied right to my face.

“It is too far.”

He saw me look at the couch. “And the floor is cooler,” he added.

I just stared at him, speechless.

I gripped the lace nightgown in my hand.

Sweat was beading on my forehead.

I wanted him. But I was too timid.

With all these chances, I should’ve jumped him by now.

I stared at the thin fabric in my hand. The sound of water from the bathroom. I hesitated.

Meanwhile, the peanut gallery in my head was losing it:

[What are you waiting for, Savannah! Change into it right now! Tonight, make it happen!]

[Girl, with that body, guys go wild, women get jealous!]

[Sweet, innocent face, total bombshell body—if the hero can hold out for years, the guy’s got nerves of steel.]

[Enough talk, hurry up and change—tonight, let’s make Savannah’s eyes roll back!]

I could almost hear my best friend’s voice in my ear, egging me on—like she was right there, waving a wine glass. “Girl, you’re a ten—stop overthinking and just go for it!” I took a shaky breath, the kind you take before jumping off the high dive at the public pool.

The sound of water in the bathroom abruptly stopped.

I stripped off my clothes in a flash. Pulled on that barely-there fabric.

Just as I lifted the comforter to cover myself—

Ethan staggered out, just a bath towel wrapped around him.

The flush on his face had faded a bit, but his eyes looked swollen. I wondered if he’d actually been crying.

[The bashful hero didn’t get to drink the chicken soup his wife made tonight, so he bit a towel and ugly-cried in the bathroom.]

[Not only did he miss out on chicken soup, his wife didn’t keep him company during his shower either—almost cried this puppy to death.]

[In the bathroom, he thought his wife was tired of him and didn’t love him anymore. As soon as the half-hour was up, he rushed out, dried off, desperate to get back to her.]

Really cried?

I looked up.

Ethan turned his head, avoiding my eyes. His voice was low, still tinged with a sob.

“Babe, my head still hurts.”

His body, fresh out of a hot shower, radiated heat. His defined abs were on full display, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

Those abs always made me dizzy. I pulled his hand up to my head.

Even though I knew he was faking, I still fell for it.

I patted the comforter. “Come up.”

Ethan obediently lay down next to me, blinking his wet eyes. I rolled mine—he was milking it for all it was worth.

“Rub my head.”