| The Flower and the Flame By Lexi Adair |
Sara giggled softly from behind him, and as he
turned about, he met her in the doorway. “Need
anything else?”
“No,” Madison murmured, trembling beneath the
onslaught of chilled air that wafted over her naked
body. “Just throw it away.”
“I think I got it from here,” she smiled, resting her
hand on his arm. “Thanks.”
“You sure?”
“You sure? Might need some help peeling that
thing off her now.” A slow smile crept over his lips.
He wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but he
would have been more than happy to see Madison
out of that sweatshirt. Not just because he longed
to see those pale curves hidden beneath, although
there was that. But because he couldn’t stand the
reminder that she had given her heart to someone
else. It had once belonged to him, so long ago.
She had forgotten that now.
He tucked all that inside, like he tucked away
everything else, masking his own heartache
beneath the cocky bite of his words. “I’m thinking it
might take a crowbar and a blow torch.”
Sara gave him a playful shove out the door. “Oh, I
think we can handle it. Now scoot.”
***
Madison dropped her hands angrily into the water.
“You are so dead to me.”
Sara simply smiled as she pulled a towel off the
rack and held it out for her.
Madison shook her head and looked down at
the sweatshirt. She sucked in a shaky breath
and turned her watery gaze on her friend. It was
as much the heartache as the humiliation that
brought tears to her eyes. “Help me out of this, will
ya?”
Sara helped her peel the heavy fabric from her
body. She pulled the dripping sweatshirt away,
water cascading off of it to flood Madison’s
bathroom floor. “I’ll hang it up to dry.”
34 | www.BTSeMag.com
“Yeah,” she whispered then pulled the shower
curtain shut. No, she wasn’t sure, so she hoped
Sara was quick about it before she changed her
mind. Though she knew she should put it behind
her, it was the last tangible memory she had of her
affair with Jeff, and she wasn’t sure she could bear
to see it go.
She slipped back down into the tub and closed her
eyes as the warm water chased away the chill. If
she couldn’t wish the humiliation away, maybe she
could wash it down the drain.
***
Madison was curled up on the couch with one
of her favorite romance novels with the afghan
she had crocheted over the last few weeks lying
across her lap. A knock reverberated through her
apartment, drawing her attention from the page.
Setting the book down, she cast a glance at the
couple entwined upon the cover. Oh, why couldn’t
real men be that romantic? The last romantic
gesture anyone had made for her was the box
of generic chocolates Jeff had given her on
Valentine’s Day . . . right before he had taken his
wife to the opera.
She threw back the afghan as the knock thudded
against the door again. “Yeah, yeah,” she
muttered. “I’m coming.” She padded across the
apartment and yanked open the front door.
Sara shoved her way inside, a huge grin turning
up the corners of her mouth. “Get dressed, we’re
going out.”
Madison blew out a heavy breath as she shut the