The day had started out as a completely normal Saturday afternoon in New York.
I’d woken up to the fresh smell of coffee and Will’s naked butt in the kitchen. I’d given him a kiss after he’d handed me my mug. And after we’d had sex on the kitchen counter, I’d gotten showered, dressed, and taken a nice stroll with Georgia and Cassie toward Mirabelle’s auction house to bid on some items for the charity function I’d been planning for the practice.
I guess, in a sense, we’d be reauctioning the items I got today at the function, but since my auction was a silent one and for charity, I figured that couldn’t be as bad as regifting. Right?
All in all, the day had been off to a fantastic start.
Will’s sudden change of heart about telling the girls in the office about our relationship had taken me by surprise at first. It seemed like I’d done something or he’d developed some kind of doubts.
But when I’d left the haven of his office after exchanging I love yous, his reasoning made almost immediate sense.
Melissa had been doing the most work I’d ever seen her do in her life, but she’d also been ranting with an intensity I hadn’t even known was possible. About how Dr. Cummings was biased, treating some people in the office one way and others another. Saying how she’d really gotten a rotten deal and how he probably needed to get laid.
All in all, it hadn’t taken a whole lot of rational thinking to infer what she’d be like if she learned about our relationship that day. So, a delay had been warranted, and we hadn’t discussed it again. It’d been a week and a half.
But I was happy. Happier than I’d ever been in my life.
At least, I had been, until we’d arrived at the auction house and things started to move toward violence.
“I’m going to kick that old lady’s ass if she keeps bidding on all of the shit I want,” Cassie whisper-yelled to me and Georgia. “That old goat is trying to start shit. I can sense it.”
See what I mean?
Cassie has officially made enemies with an elderly woman.
Mind you, this woman couldn’t be a day younger than eighty, and I’m pretty sure needs a walking cane to get around.
The bald-headed man sitting in front of us glanced over his shoulder, and a sharp “Shh” left his scowling lips. Immediately, a woman with a giant blue hat sitting across the aisle whispered her appreciation in his direction.
Good Lord, not only was Cassie in a bidding war with an eighty-year-old, she was now calling attention—and not the good kind—toward our threesome from other people. I looked around for the exit routes just in case the crowd went in together to bid on a lot of pitchforks and revolted against us.
“Stop being so loud, Cass,” Georgia chastised, but otherwise, seemed unconcerned as she popped another Skittle into her mouth. The bag of candy sat visibly on the top of her rounded stomach, and it was more than apparent her pregnant self gave zero fucks on what was deemed appropriate auction-house etiquette.
Note to self: Next time Cassie and Georgia want to go to an auction with you, strongly consider finding a way to avoid it.
“I don’t think she’s trying to start shit, Cass,” I attempted to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. “I think she just has the same taste in art as you.”
“Nope,” Cassie refuted. “She’s playing mind games with me.”
She stared down her little, white-haired bidding opponent sitting in the aisle across from us. “Look at her,” she whispered. “Why in the fuck does she want all of the pervy, naked pictures?”
“It’s not pervy, Casshead,” Georgia chimed in. “They’re tasteful nude paintings. Most of which are by twentieth-century impressionist painters. They’re worth a lot of money. She probably sees it as an investment. Not a ploy to give her husband nonstop erections.”
Cassie scoffed. “Giving Thatch boners is way more important than a goddamn art investment.”
Yeah, you heard that right, folks.
Cassie is bidding on anything and everything that has boobs with the motive of giving her husband, and this is a direct quote, “more boners than Viagra.”
Georgia snorted. “You guys have the weirdest relationship.”
“I know, right?” Cassie said with a satisfied smile. “We’re the best. I love that giant idiot so much.”
I was almost afraid to hear any more details about their relationship. It had only taken one five-minute conversation with Cassie to realize she and her husband let their freak flags fly like a goddamn eagle, but knowing and knowing the details were two different things.
Hell, during the walk to the auction house, she’d spent most of it sending him dirty texts and repeating them out loud to us. If the auction house would have been a block farther, she might’ve had time to pull her boobs out and send him a selfie.
“When’s the charity function, Mel?” Georgia asked, and I gladly welcomed the distraction of small talk.
“It’s a week away.” Just saying how quickly it was approaching out loud made me shiver. Countless hours of work and creative thinking had gone into the planning of each and every detail, and I was so excited to see how it all came together.
The function would be a full-day event that revolved around raising money for women who were in desperate need of financial assistance. Free prenatal care would be available on site, but we’d also have a few semiridiculous activities to draw in a crowd in an attempt to accumulate money. I was trying to keep my approach two-pronged—short-term assistance with a chance for a long-term impact. The women this function was meant to benefit needed help for more than a day.
But I wasn’t above calculating some of the plans based on my own enjoyment. I’d even managed the necessary equipment for a simulated-labor, via electrodes, booth. Call me slightly evil, but I was pretty excited to see Will’s face while he experienced what contractions really felt like.
“That’s really soon,” she noted with visible interest. “What will the money go to?”
“Mostly toward aiding patients within the practice in getting financial assistance and the medical care that they need but haven’t been able to acquire on their own.”
“That’s amazing,” she said with a soft smile. “There are so many underprivileged women out there who need that kind of assistance.”
“I know. I wish St. Luke’s would open a women’s clinic so that even more of the underserved population in the city could be reached, but I’m happy to at least be helping a little.”
She nodded in agreement. “They really need to figure out a way to do that. It would be a huge positive for the city.”
If only I could find a way to make it happen…
I’d been spending so many hours of my days—and nights—making sure our lower-income patients had everything they needed. But the fact that there was so little support out there for most of them was breaking my heart.
I was only one person.
I could only make so many phone calls.
I could only personally follow so many patients.
And knowing I could only do so much—and that there were so many women out there who needed help—was becoming an emotional hardship for me. What had started out as something that felt important had quickly morphed into something that felt a lot like my purpose.
I honestly think I needed those patients as much they needed someone like me. And somehow, someway, I felt like my career would eventually need to revolve around focusing less on just typical nursing jobs and more on case-managing women like Carmen.
“You’re one of the good ones, Melody,” Georgia complimented with a tender smile. “Those patients are lucky to have you. Hell, my brother is lucky to have you. He better not fuck it up,” she added with a playful wink, and I laughed softly. I was pretty sure I was the one lucky to have Will.
The squeal of the microphone reverberating through the speakers pulled our attention to the front of the room. “Sorry for the interruption, ladies and gentleman,” the auctioneer announced. “We’ll now resume bidding on the last half of the lots. The next item up for bid is lot number 175. It’s an oil on canvas called Mademoiselle X by famous French Impressionist painter, Maurice Ehlinger. He was renowned for his stylized nudes on canvas, and…”
Georgia and I both glanced at each other with wide eyes.
Jesus…not another nude…
“Here we go,” she muttered before our attention shifted toward Cassie.
“Hey, uh, Cass,” I tried, but it was too late, she was already glaring at the old lady—before the auctioneer had even opened up the bidding.
He pointed to the painting and proudly announced to the crowd, “We’ll start the bidding at two hundred.”
“One thousand!” Cassie exclaimed, and the auctioneer’s eyes went wide.
“Uh…Okay…” he stuttered into the microphone. “Do I have eleven hundred?”
The old lady gave a quick raise of her hand to indicate her bid.
“Fifty-five thousand!” Cassie shouted. Understandably, the old lady just shrugged into her seat when the auctioneer looked in her direction. Holy fuckballs, she’d just upped the bid by nearly fifty-four thousand dollars!
“Fifty-five thousand going once…going twice…sold to the…well…the very exuberant lady to the left.”
“Hell motherfluffing yes,” Cassie cheered loud enough for all of New York City to hear. And she sealed the envelope of crazy by pointedly staring at her bidding opponent while moving two of her fingers between her eyes and the old lady’s. “I’m watching you,” she mouthed, and the little woman quickly broke eye contact.
I didn’t blame her. I wouldn’t have wanted to be on the receiving end of Cassie’s wrath. Her kind of crazy appeared to have no limit or boundaries.
“Uh…” Georgia looked toward Cass. “You do realize that painting is only worth like two thousand, right?”
“So?”
“You just paid fifty-five thousand for it,” I reminded her, and she shrugged.
“Thatcher paid fifty-five thousand for it.”
“And do you think he’ll mind that you’ve spent one hundred thousand dollars on paintings today?” Georgia asked.
Yeah, I should probably mention here that Cassie and Thatch are loaded.
Like, they could probably buy three yachts tomorrow, and it wouldn’t even put a dent in their savings. I don’t know if I will ever get used to knowing people that rich.
“No way,” Cassie disputed. “I haven’t spent that much today.”
“Actually, you have,” I added, but it didn’t matter. Cassie’s sights were already set on the next lot up for bidding, and like a homing device, once the auctioneer announced the item, her focus darted directly to the old lady across the aisle.
Honestly, it was like watching a car crash. I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t look away.
God, I hope that little old lady makes it out of this auction house alive today.
With the motive of distracting myself from the fact that Cassie was one nude painting away from going what Georgia described as fight club, I pulled out my cell phone and sent a quick text to Will.
Me: I’m not sure if it was such a good idea to bring Cassie to this auction.
My phone vibrated with his response a minute later.
Will: Lol. I can only imagine…
Me: I think she’s about to fight this old lady for nude oil paintings. She’s convinced it’ll drive Thatch crazy and give him “constant bonertimes.” Her words, not mine.
Will: Jesus. What kind of auction are you at? I thought you were getting items for the charity event…
Me: Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s not like porno nudes. It’s classic, 20th-century art. Mostly boobs, no crotch shots.
Will: Well…Thatch is a boob man.
Yeah, that was obvious. I was certain everyone in this auction house knew Thatch was a boob man.
Me: Yeah, well, Cassie is about to throw down on account of his boob obsession.
Will: I’d like to say everything will be okay, but…
Me: Help me.
Will: LOL. What’s Georgia doing?
Me: Eating Skittles.
Will: In the middle of an auction?
Me: Yeah, I’m basically with Thelma and Louise. Only instead of driving the car off the cliff, Cassie’s going to set this place on fire just to piss off the old lady who keeps bidding on all of the nudes she wants.
Will: I think you should record this. For future viewing purposes.
Me: You’re zero help!
Will: You have to admit the entire situation is hilarious.
In that moment, it didn’t fucking feel hilarious. My palms were sweaty, and the stress had spurred a constant, sharp ache in my chest. If I weren’t under thirty and my family hadn’t had any known history of heart disease, I would’ve been convinced it was a heart attack. Sure, it might have seemed a little dramatic to be stressed over Cassie trying to buy everything nude or boob-focused, but seriously, the looks we had been getting from everyone around us weren’t exactly friendly or welcoming. I felt like a caged animal in the zoo. Only, the people staring at me weren’t excited, they were two seconds away from calling the cops.
I was just glad she hadn’t tried to bid against me on anything. There’s no telling what emergent medical episode would have befallen us.
Me: Yeah, maybe when you’re an outsider. It’s not when you’re actually in the middle of it.
Will: Were you able to bid on enough items for the charity function? Or is Cassie outbidding you, too?
Me: Luckily, yes. Thank God, I was focused on sculptures and boob-less paintings of landscapes and flowers. Otherwise, Cassie might have killed me by now.
Will: Lol.
Me: I’m glad this is so amusing for you.
Will: Does it help if I say I think you’re amazing?
It helped a little… but that didn’t mean I had to tell him that. I typed out a two-letter response and hit send.
Me: No.
Will: What about… I’m so proud of you for arranging this charity function?
He really was so sweet to me sometimes.
But still, that didn’t mean I had to tell him he was…
Me: Nope.
Will: You’re the most brilliant woman I know.
Me: Still not working.
Will: Stay the night at my place tonight, and I’ll eat your pussy for a really long, long time…
My brows shot up with intrigue the instant I read the text.
Hmmm… Things have started to get interesting…
Me: How long?
Will: I won’t stop until you’re begging for my cock.
Yeah, okay, a girl could only hold out for so long. I gladly gave in and sent him my agreement in the form of four letters.
Me: Deal.
Will: Lovely doing business with you, Ms. Marco. ;) See you tonight.
I put my phone in my purse and focused my brainpower toward imagining tonight with Will.
Will’s face between my thighs… Will’s mouth on my pussy… Lots of orgasms…
And, suddenly, the sounds of Cassie shouting outrageous bids on every nude wasn’t so stressful anymore.