“You know what, Luna, I like you too.” She grinned at me and I felt, for the first time in years, like there might be someone on this earth that I wasn’t blood related to who I would truly enjoy hanging out and spending time with.

“So, what’s your deal? Why the desperate need for coffee?”

“I’m trying to write a book, and so far, it’s been going well, until today.”

“What happened today?”

“Aside from the fact that staring at the last page I worked on for two hours won’t add to the manuscript as I wait on divine inspiration, nothing. That was the problem.”

“Yeah, I can see where that might be difficult.” She picked up her phone. “Let’s look up ways to get over writer’s block,” she suggested. “What kind of stuff are you writing anyway? Anything juicy?”

“The juiciest!” I squealed the word and shimmied my body with excitement as I started spilling my guts about the book.

“Oh shit, that sounds like something I’d like to read. I’m so glad I met you. I volunteer to be your proofreader. I have zero qualifications beyond loving to read a good, dirty book.”

“Sounds qualified enough to me,” I agreed. Meeting Wes’s sister was turning into a goldmine for me. A woman who liked the same things, that I could share my excitement with was a rarity. I loved my own sister, of course, but she refused to read my book because of all the extremely descriptive hot sex, questionable behaviors, and vulgar language in it.

“Well, damn,” Luna muttered as she stared at her phone.

“Let me guess, no known cure for the block?”

“No, it’s not that. Sorry, I got distracted. I forgot I had been checking up on my wayward brother before you knocked. Looks like the boys are knee deep in Finnish pussy over there. I keep hoping they’ll get their shit together and settle down some, but I guess it’s not happening this week.”

“What?” I asked, almost stunned by what she’d just said. First, I didn’t know that Wes had gone with Tucker. Second, I know I heard the term, ‘knee deep in pussy’ come out of her mouth. Maybe I had asked God for the wrong favor this morning. ‘Dear God, please keep my husband’s sexploits out of the papers and off the internet’ should have probably come before, ‘give me something sweet to put in my coffee’.

Luna turned her phone so that I could see too. There was a shot of Wes, my husband, and several scantily clad women at a club. Said women could have doubled as Valkyrie or swimsuit models if you threw them into warmer weather. They were all tall, gorgeous, and blessed with curves that only a plastic surgeon should be able to deliver. Though, if I were being honest, it all looked very natural on them. Why wasn’t life fair?

“Are there more pictures, or just that one?” The one she showed me was bad enough, but it could be easily blown off as women who were interested, and my husband declining, even if Wes didn’t.