Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Fucker,” Chloe whispers.
“I knew him. I had known him for years, and the man that I married wasn’t the same anymore. He had become more attentive than he’d ever been. I guess that’s what made it even more painful, because even though I had that bad feeling in my gut, I felt as though I was being ungrateful and that he was just making it up to me for working all the extra hours.”
“What a nightmare,” Juliet whispers. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“Thankfully I’m not married this time.” I shrug with a sad smile. “And I have my house. I’ll be fine, whatever happens.”
“You will.” Juliet squeezes my hand. “But I honestly don’t believe that Blake would do this to you.”
“You really need to talk to him,” Chloe tells me.
“So that what . . . he can lie to me?” I give a subtle shake of my head in disgust. “I’d rather him not know that I’m onto him so that I can at least catch him out.”
I stand at the window and watch Antony and Henley putt the golf ball into the hole. It’s late, nearly 9:00 p.m.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re talking with Winston, and it seems to be a very in-depth conversation. I wonder, What are they talking about?
Blake is lying on the couch watching the game, and his phone vibrates on the coffee table. “Hello,” he answers. He stands and walks into the kitchen with his phone as he begins talking. I walk to the door to try and listen, but he’s talking in a hushed voice, so I go back to the window and keep watching the boys play golf.
I contemplate what I should say. What could I ask that would get me a straight answer?
Would he lie about who he’s talking to?
Blake walks back out into the living room and lies back down on the couch.
“Who was that you were talking to?” I ask innocently.
He holds the remote up to the television and flicks the game back on. “Antony.”
My eyes linger on Antony out on the street, and my heart sinks with an overwhelming sadness.
I wanted the proof, and now I have it. Confirmation in black and white.
That hurt more than I thought it would.
“I’m going to bed,” I say softly.
“I’ll be up soon, babe,” he says as he keeps watching the television.
“Don’t rush, I’m tired.” I walk past him, and he holds out his hand.
“Hey, where’s my kiss good night?”
I turn back to see him lying there on the couch, and I get a vision of me picking up the lampshade and beating him with it. Hurting him half as much as he’s hurting me.
I hate him.
But more than that, I hate myself for loving him, for believing he was different.
Men are all the same.
“I’ll see you upstairs,” I say softly.
“No kiss?” He frowns.
I don’t feel strong enough to have this argument today. I wonder, will I ever be strong enough to have this argument?
Tomorrow . . . I’ll be stronger tomorrow.
I quickly peck him on the cheek. “Good night.”
“I love you.” He smiles.
Sure you do.
I walk upstairs like a zombie, get into the shower . . . and like the pathetic, jilted woman I am, I sob in silence.
Daisy pulls me along as she rushes to get to Juliet and Barry as they wait on the curb outside their house. “Morning.” Juliet smiles.
“Morning.” I bend and pat Barry. “How’s my little man this morning?” I ask him. I bend and peer into the stroller at the cuteness overload. “Good morning, sweetness.” I smile.
“Are we doing the short walk or the long walk today?” Juliet asks.
“Long. I have some extra energy.”
We start walking, and I just have to tell her. It’s eating a hole inside of me. “So last night, I got proof.”
“Of what?” Juliet stops walking and stands on the spot.
“Blake was watching television, and his phone rang, and when he answered it, he went into the kitchen and was talking in a whispered voice.”
“Right,” she says, listening.
“I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but when he got back, I asked him who was on the phone, and he said Antony.”
“Okay.” She frowns. “Hang on, I’m lost. Why is that a bad thing?”
“The whole time he was on the phone in the kitchen, I was watching Antony talk to Winston and Henley as they were putting on the green.”
Her face falls.
“Antony wasn’t on the phone at all.”
“Why would he say he was on the phone with Antony if he wasn’t on the phone with Antony?”
My eyes hold hers.
“Babe,” she whispers as she pulls me into a hug. “I can’t believe this. What did you say to him?”
“Nothing, I went to bed.” We continue walking.
“What?” She screws up her face. “Why didn’t you say anything to him?”