"You fucked this guy while you're engaged to Derek. Derek fucked Christine and who knows who else while he's engaged to you..." Monica's eyes widened as she put the pieces together. "Holy fucking shit, Carrie!"

I nodded, feeling so shameful. "I don't know what to do, Monica. The whole thing is one big-ass migraine."

"I can kind of understand being pissed over catching Derek and letting the alcohol take over, but I don't understand Derek going through women like they're potato chips," she scoffed. "Who does he think he is, treating my best friend like that? What the fuck?"

We'd been inhaling giant spoonfuls of ice cream and talking about the sexual soap opera that is my life for a half hour and I was on the verge of either crying, vomiting, or both. I couldn't decide. Explaining the situation to Monica felt like reliving the night I'd cheated. I couldn't believe she wasn't scolding me and lecturing me about how I should kick Nick to the curb and try to mend things with Derek. No doubt, that's all anyone else would say. Monica seemed to understand how I was feeling though. The fact that she wasn't unloading on me with disapproval made me feel slightly less guilty for sleeping with Nick.

I knew I should've marched over to Derek when I saw him with Christine. I should've given him a gigantic piece of my mind. I should've been responsible and taken the high road. But I'd run off with Nick Granger instead. What did that say about me?

Monica was ranting about her newly-developed hatred for my fiancé but I wasn't listening. I'd tuned out, staring down at my left hand where the stunning silver band and sparkling four carat diamond sat on display. Seeing it made me feel worse. The ring brought a wave of happy memories with Derek to mind, but then quickly crushed them all with misery and regret. I began to wonder if Derek had been cheating on me before he proposed. I wanted to know just how long his infidelity had been going on. Had I just been deceived into thinking he loved me? Or had I done something to make him seek another woman's bed?

Nausea set in. I slid the ring off my finger, placing it on the coffee table. I stared at my bare hand, holding it out in front of me while Monica continued her rant. I still wasn't paying attention. I didn't want to admit it – not even to myself – but I felt a sense of relief without that flashy diamond decorating my ring finger. Maybe it just isn't meant to be, I thought. It sickened me that that was even crossing my mind.

"Oh my fuck!" Monica's shrill exclamation made me jump.

Startled, I looked at her like she had three heads. "Jesus, Monica. What?"

"Is this him?" she asked excitedly.

She shoved her phone into my hands and I recognized a photo of Nick. She'd looked him up on the firm's website.

"Yeah," I nodded. "That's him."

I could feel my hormones waking up at the sight of the man I'd been selfishly lusting over in a crisp white button-up. He looked sinfully delicious.

Monica grabbed her phone back and examined the picture with squinted eyes that quickly widened the longer she looked at the screen. "He's a god," she proclaimed, shaking her head as if to agree with herself. "Remind me why you're still with Cheating Cheaterson?"

I rolled my eyes. "Because I love him," I told her. But I wondered if I was just lying to myself by this point.

She looked at me skeptically. "Do you really?"

Her demeanor had calmed and her voice was soft and caring. I knew she was concerned, and I wanted to talk to her about the situation in more depth, but I was swimming in confusion and I didn't know what to say or how to feel.

"He's my fiancé," I muttered. I wasn't even sure if that was true anymore.

"Carrie," Monica sighed, slinging a protective arm around my shoulders. "Just because you're in a relationship with someone doesn't mean you're in love with them. That goes for him too. If he loves you, he wouldn't be cheating on you. Don't marry the dude if you're not both in love."

I knew she was right. She was always right when it came to best friend advice.

"How do you feel about this Nick guy?"

My brows drew together and I automatically glanced to where Monica's phone sat on her knee with the image of my one-night stand still on the screen. A warm, happy feeling engulfed me and I could feel my cheeks redden. It seemed ridiculous that he had such an effect on me when he wasn't even remotely nearby.

I didn't really want to answer the question, half expecting her to begin a pros and cons list of Derek versus Nick. I knew the real reason I didn't want to say how I felt about him was because I was scared I might have deeper feelings for the man than I should. I equated it to crossing a major boundary.

But I'd already crossed too many boundaries. What could I possibly say to fuck things up more?

"I guess I don't know," I finally said. And I really didn't know. Everything was up in the air and it was infuriating. "What would you do if you were in my position?"

She leaned back against the couch, folding her legs under and tapped her thumb on her knee, contemplating. "Honestly, I would probably talk to Nick and try to work things out."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," I groaned. "What about Derek?"

Monica scrunched up her nose at the sound of his name. "What about Derek? The man leaves the toilet seat up! You can do so much better!"

I managed a giggle at her outburst. We ended up lounging on the sofa all afternoon watching chick flicks. We didn't say a whole lot. We didn't discuss my boy drama anymore. All we talked about were the comedic storylines of the movies we were watching. My stress level had taken a plunge back to a normal proportion and I wasn't anxious anymore. I'd allowed myself to lose track of time and focus entirely on the Nicholas Sparks romance currently playing.

I was on my third bowl of ice cream when Monica finally said something unrelated to movies.

"By the way, Derek called me," she spoke up.

My spoon clanged against the ceramic bowl and I felt my pulse instantly rev up. "Oh?"

"He wanted to know what we did Tuesday night. He said you told him you stayed the night at my house," she frowned. "I didn't know what he was talking about. If you'd told me about all this cheating shit sooner, I could've covered for you."

The more I thought back to Tuesday night, the more I hated champagne. The more I hated champagne, the more disgusted I became with myself for drinking it. I was sick of my hormones and emotions running wild over two men. Part of me wished one of them would just make it easy for me and leave.

I wished I'd taken the time to vent all this to Monica before Derek had had a chance to call her. I wished I'd at least thought to text her and ask her to cover for me.

Absentmindedly, I wondered how on earth Monica didn't constantly have to smack men away with a fly swatter. She had long brown hair with blonde highlights and ocean-blue eyes. She was beyond pretty. I envied her perfect hourglass figure. I was more than happy with my body, but I always thought I could stand to lose a few pounds.

Monica left around five-thirty and I still hadn't heard a peep out of Derek or Nick. I was enjoying the peace and quiet while it lasted, knowing full well that sparks had a potential for flying as the evening went on.

I was sitting on my front porch getting some much-needed fresh air when my phone vibrated with a text from Nick.

"Can I see you?"

I knew I should say no. What if Derek came back while I was gone? What if I ended up naked with Nick again? What if they both arrived at the same time? Seeing Nick sounded like dynamite waiting to explode in my face. Still, I kept hearing Monica's words in my head telling me to work things out with him. I doubted working things out was even possible after everything that had happened, but I despite my reservations, I said yes anyway.

"Be there in thirty," the reply read.

I hopped up from my spot on the porch and went back inside, cleaning up the mess Monica and I had made.

There were two open cartons of melted ice cream and two empty coffee cups sitting on my coffee table. I put the lids back on the ice cream, placing them in the freezer and disposing of the coffee cups. I then went upstairs to take a quick shower, hoping I would feel refreshed afterwards.

As I was descending the staircase, clad only in a bath towel, my doorbell rang. I spotted Nick through the beveled glass and hugged the towel tighter around my body, opening the door.

"That's a hell of a way to say hello," Nick smirked, his eyes traveling down my body.

I motioned for him to enter and closed the door behind him.

"I need to get dressed," I said, heading for the stairs with Nick following closely behind.

He grabbed my wrist lightly, tugging me back against his chest. All the air rushed from my lungs and my heart was instantly in my throat. I could feel goosebumps rising across my arms and legs as a response to the sound of his breathing in my ear.

"Why?" he whispered seductively.

I turned around in his arms to look at him and a tightness formed in my stomach. His jacket hung open, giving a terrific view of his baby blue shirt that was unbuttoned a third of the way down. I wanted to slide my palms over his chest.

"Because that's generally what you do after a shower," I forced myself to speak. "Get dressed."

"I don't," Nick breathed a laugh, knowing he was teasing my hormones. "I like to walk around naked."

Oh, how I wanted to see him naked again. My mind traveled to the jaw-dropping image of him naked after a steamy shower. His soft dark hair dripping wet. Hundreds of tiny water droplets cascading down his body. I felt my knees weakening at the thought. An ache formed between my legs as Nick's hand slid over my arm, massaging my shoulder softly while his other hand gently tugged at the towel. Without a word, his lips pressed to my neck, slowly trailing kissing across my feverish skin. He continued to inch the towel further down.

I didn't want him to stop. I didn't want him to take his hands or his perfect mouth off my body. I didn't want to tell him no.

"N-Nick," I involuntarily moaned, feeling his teeth nip at my neck.

He groaned against my collarbone. "Mm?"

"We... we shouldn't... this is..." I trailed off, melting into his muscular arms.

"What?" he mumbled, nibbling on my earlobe.

His seductive tactics were quickly unraveling my ability to push him away. "We shouldn't be doing this," I finally choked out, instantly regretting my words when his mouth left my chest.

He stepped back, holding me at arm's length. A strange, unreadable look covered his handsome face.

I felt exposed under his heated gaze. I wished I'd hurried in the shower and gotten dressed before he arrived. I wished I hadn't said anything. I wished he hadn't stopped.

Nick seemed to be debating his next move. I was reminded of the fact that he was a federal agent when the all-too-familiar thought of him interrogating me crossed my mind again. I'd begun to feel like he was scrutinizing me, sizing me up before lashing out at me the way he would a criminal.

I felt the towel loosen and fall from my body, landing in a pile at my feet. My breathing stopped. His eyes were boring holes into mine.

"Carrie." His voice was raspy, as though he was straining to get the words out. "I want you."