Here is an unedited sneak peek into the next book in the Cake Love series, . Enjoy!

 

 

A gold ring.

A wedding band. Big, smooth, and upon lifting, I noticed the weight. Not a cheap slender thing bought with little money, but something with heft, meant to stay.

Flipping it over the inscription made my throat tighten and my heart heavy: Honor always. Protect fully. Love forever.

“What a crock of gobbledygook.” I said giving the ring the stink eye.

Was it judging me?

A part of me felt it was, so I bared my teeth to show I meant business.

I felt stupid. Getting mad at a ring, an inanimate object. Perhaps I wasn’t angry at the gold in my hand but old memories of the most wonderful man that ever-lived, chipping away at my heart. The hot hands of guilt spreading boney fingers around my neck and across my chest.

“I’m not the one that cheated.” I said to the ring.

But no matter what I said, it didn’t stop the ache in my heart. And in some way, I felt I had cheated on the memory. A man that didn’t exist anymore, only his bones remained deep in a wood box underground in Elmhurst. But my heart felt him and that’s what hurt most of all.

I fisted the gold in my hand knowing it didn’t belong to the man I loved, the man long gone but felt daily. But it did belong to the man I fucked last night.

At least, I think we had sex. That’s what made the whole thing stomach churning, I don’t remember. I woke up in a stranger’s hotel room, naked, and realized he was married by finding his wedding ring.

Wow, Tiffany, you can’t even do a one-night stand right.

I winced as the wedding band made a clacking sound bouncing on the wood of the coffee table when I dropped it. The stabbing behind my right eye grew in strength from the joke that he obviously believed his marriage to be.

It might have felt like I was cheating on my dead husband but this guy actually fooled around behind a woman’s back. A woman who placed this beautiful ring on his finger believing him to be her savior, her true love, and the man who would never deceive her.

I’m done. I needed to find my clothes and get out of this room before the guy, who I can’t even remember the name of or what he looked like, got out of the shower.

Thankfully, he was already in the bathroom when I woke up to save the embarrassment of facing him. All my friends, except for Evaleen, told me I needed to get laid. My husband died over ten years ago and I haven’t been able to find the time or the heart, to be with another man.

It had been too long and that’s why when I came to Las Vegas for the weekend with my friends I thought it was the perfect time to have a no-strings attached fling.

Wrong.

They were wrong. I was wrong.

The only thing the night left me with was nausea, terrible remorse, and breath so bad it could be used to bring down a small elephant.

As much as I needed a drink of water and hot shower to clean off my shame, I had to find my clothes.

One of my red leather heels was under the coffee table and after further inspection I found the other behind the lavender couch. After a few minutes of hunting I had gathered all my clothes, even my green lace undies that were wrapped around the telephone.

I dressed quickly if not clumsily and thought maybe I should be glad I couldn’t remember anything.

As I closed the door to his room behind me and stumbled my way toward the elevator I considered turning back to leave a note. But then I imagined what I would write.

Hey You,

Yeah, you know who you are so let’s not play that game where I impress you with my ability to recall your name. I’m the one you had sex with last night. I’d like to say it was great but since I was blackout drunk I can’t comment on what I don’t know.

And that brings me to a very important point: Why did YOU take advantage of an obviously drunk woman? Were you black out drunk yourself? I am hoping you were because if you ever see me again, like walking down the street, I wish upon all the wishes in the world you can’t recognize me. That way last night can turn into a forgotten memory.

All the Best,

Tiffany

P.S. I don’t really want to give you my last name for fear you might look me up. I have a kid and I don’t want him finding out that his mom had blackout sex with a stranger.

In the end I figured the letter wouldn’t make anyone happy. He might have remembered me and be disappointed I didn’t.

What if he found me in the lobby of the hotel and explained what had gone down? I might not like what I heard or, even more disconcertingly, I could throw up on him while screaming about forsaking his vows to his wife.

Therefore, I felt the note wasn’t necessary but a shower and toothbrushing was.

Once I went down two floors and made it to my room, I came inside and leaned back on the cool metal door in relief.

“Oh good, you’re back. Can I borrow a shirt? I threw up on all mine.” Evaleen said as she popped her head around the corner with a queasy smile on her face.

The lingering stench of vomit in the room had me running for the bathroom before I could answer her question.

After upchucking liquid orange and wondering what I drank last night, I sat on the cool white tiles of the bathroom.

“We’re a pair. Maybe we should take a bet and see who can make it through the plane ride back to Chicago without barfing.” Evaleen said as she stood over me in a stained blue t-shirt and sweatpants.

Her usual perfect blond chignon was disheveled with some strands of hair sticking to her face. She held out her hand to assist me and I took it. I put my other hand on the toilet seat to get up, thinking I was helping but realizing too late I was worsening the situation.

Having forgotten I lifted the seat to empty my stomach, I shrieked at the cold, clammy toilet rim. My arm flew back from shock and I smacked it on the counted.

Evaleen almost fell when I pulled too hard on her hand but managed to catch herself by twisting her foot. When I finally stood both of us were out of breath. I was nursing a swollen finger and she was rubbing her pained ankle.

“I’ll take that bet and add, whoever makes it back puke free and without any broken bones, wins.” I said.

She laughed. I laughed. We sounded more like geese dying.

“I need a shower.” I said.

“And I need a shirt. It seems you have something to give and I have something to give. Maybe we can work out a deal?” Evaleen smirked and tilted her head toward me.

“What do you have to give me?”

“Privacy.”

I shook my head and walked over to the shower, turning on the hot water.

“Just take a shirt from my suitcase. I always overpack just for occasions such as this.” I said as I held my hand under the warming spray.

“You prepare for a pukepocalypse?”

Once I assessed the temperature was a soothing, scolding degrees I turned to Evaleen and helped her out the door, “Yes, I’m a mother.” Then I closed the bathroom door behind her.

Peeling off my disgusting used clothes I stepped behind the curtain and into a gorgeous hell of skin flaying water.

I needed this.

As I worked the shampoo into my long, chestnut hair, I tried to recollect how all this happened.  Morgana, Aria, and I went to the hotel bar last night. The bartender gave me a drink that a man across the bar had bought me.

But that’s it. I barely remember what the bartender looked like. Was the drink spiked?

It must have been.

How stupid could I be? I’m a mother, I shouldn’t have put myself at risk like that. What if I had gone to bed with a man that wanted to kidnap or murder me? Who would take care of David?

My son was only thirteen and with his physical and verbal disabilities, he needed someone to be with him. To make sure he got the treatment and care his body needed, and the love his heart deserved.

It’s terrible enough that the same thing that took his might, also took his father.

He’s finally starting to gain that strength back and becoming independent for the first time in his life. I don’t think there’s a parent prouder of their child than I was of my son. And what do I do to show him how pleased I am, putting my own life at risk so that he can grow up without a father and a mother.

I shut off the water after washing off, and stepped out the shower. While drying off, brushing my teeth, and finally putting on a clean grey t-shirt and jeans, I made several decisions.

My son needed a father. If something did happen to me, even beyond my control, I had to know he would be taken care of. As much as it hurt to completely bury my husband, even psychologically, my son deserved someone to always be there to watch out for him.

Another decision, there had to be a better way of finding a man, and future father to my son, than a drunken one-night stand.

My next decision was inspired by the little band of gold that caused all this grief. I had to, above everything else, make sure the man I chose would honor me. There would be no way I wanted to end up with some fool that would cheat on me like the drunken sleaze I stupidly slept with last night.

I needed a man that could protect my son, and make sure he got the care he needed.

And finally, he must love both of us. I am a woman, I may crave affection from a man from time to time but I'm also a mother. If that man can't understand the deep love I had for my son, then he wasn't the man for my family.

There was a knock on the door as I finished pulling my hair back into a ponytail.

“Yes?” I said, raising my voice so Evaleen could hear me.

“You ready to catch a plane back home? Morgana’s here. It’s time to leave.” Evaleen’s said from the other side.

I smiled for the first time today. Excited I was going to see my son in a few hours.

As I opened the door to the steamy room, I nodded at Evaleen who had miraculously transformed into her perfectly coiffed self with my pink t-shirt on.

“Yes, I’m ready to go home.”

I felt strong in my decisions, knowing they would be good for me and my son.

 

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