A text had popped up on her phone that morning. [I'm coming to see you today. Brought you a love lunch box, yours truly.]
Attached were a few pictures—flirty, suggestive and definitely not work-related. Of course, she definitely didn’t want me showing up.
I nodded. “Alright. I’ll stay home.”
She smiled, satisfied, grabbed her bag and walked out the door. And yet, for some reason, I still found myself getting into my car and driving after her.
It took me three minutes to pull into the underground garage. Three minutes too long.
By the time I got there, I saw them; Yvonne and some guy in a suit. She wasn’t pushing him away. If anything, she was leaning in.
His hands were on her, familiar, possessive. Her eyes never left him, not even for a second. Then he stopped, looking down at her with a smirk. “Do you swear to me? You really didn’t touch him?”
Yvonne laughed, fingers running through his hair. “Why would I? He’s disgusting after coming out of prison. Why would I want to? Besides…” She trailed a finger down his tie, eyes playful. “Don’t I have you?”
And just like that, she kissed him. Slow. Deep. Like she meant it, like there was nothing else matter in her world now.