Or maybe the eleventh. I checked the number. Ryder. I popped another creamy caramel into my mouth. Why did I pull Ryder into the changing room? Now a war raged between my loyalty to my husband and a passion for a guy barely out of his teens. What if Lorena found out? Hell, she might be happy if her son had a fling with someone responsible for a change. Or I might lose her as a friend. What about Gemma? My heart stuttered. The day after our kiss, Ryder broke up with her. It took months of moping, and lots of there-are-plenty-more-fish-in-the-sea talks, before Gemma found the heart to date another guy. If she found out, she’d feel crushed, angry, betrayed, and that was putting it mildly. Dammit. What do I do? Why couldn’t I allow myself to move on, to have a fling, to reconnect with the fun-loving part of myself? Guilt shadowed me during the day, frowning at me while I slaved over my Mac at the office, and at night it lay under the covers with me, a thorny burden that never, ever went away.
