Page 11 of Masterson Made

The unexpected compliment makes me crack a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Second, you’re wrong. You’re not going out to do absolutely nothing. You’re going out to havesome fun because you deserve a night out with your friends and your happiness is as important as a motherfucker.”

“Exactly,” Sloan adds.

I ignore her two cents and concentrate on the man I love, who at this moment makes me wish I was staying home for a little private picnic in our bedroom. We haven’t done that in a really long time. Those are always so fun.

“Maybe I should stay home and just lay like broccoli with you,” I say, laying my hand on his chest. “We never took that shower, I promised.”

“Go,” Roman says to my surprise with no reservation. Then he gives me a G-rated kiss on the lips. “If you two end up drinking too much, I’ll send a car over. Have fun. Just not too much.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

I feel kind of pitiful that he’s not putting up a fight and asking me to stay home. I really wish he would.

“I’m watching the game tonight, baby. I’m good.”

“Okay,” I agree disappointedly.

I listen for any sign of Knox to come through the monitors but hear nothing. He’s fast asleep, and at this point I’m running out of excuses to stay home. Maybe I just need to pull up my big girl panties and leave my two men alone for a few hours.

“Ready?” Sloan asks eagerly. She hasn’t been out much either since her new promotion. This will be a welcomed change of pace for the both of us. Just like old times.

The house will not blow up if I leave.

Knox will live through one night without me.

The business will not implode if I take the evening off.

I just have to rip off the Band-Aid and say the words.

“Yep, I’m ready. Let’s party.”

4

ELIZABETH

Two Hours Later

Islide off my sandals and try my best not to make a sound in my bare feet as I creep inside the house, but my efforts are futile. Roman is wide awake and sitting in the living room watching a movie, noshing on some takeout.

“Why am I not surprised,” he says sarcastically as I cross the threshold into our living room.

“I had such a good time,” I say unconvincingly.

“You were there for an hour,” he deadpans.

I check my watch.

“No, I was there for two hours.”

“It takes thirty minutes to get to that part of town and thirty to get back, so you were literally there long enough to get one drink, eat a piece of cheese, and maybe say happy birthday. So what’s up? Why are you home?”

“Nothing’s up.”

“Did you not like the vibe there? Were her friends psycho? Did some dude hit on you?” Roman’s voice grows progressively concerned. “Or did a woman hit on you?”