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Now, I regret it, because I cannot unsee what just happened in front of me. Jessica, the seedy receptionist I was right about this entire time. She wanted him, and my husband… he obviously wanted her. His lips against hers is a worse sight than death itself. It’s the catalyst of the breaking heart beating painful out of my ribcage.
“Keys. Now.” I tremble, my shaking hand reaching out to Trish. She drove us here, and all I can do is what I least expected of myself. In the battle of fight or flight, I thought if this day ever came, I would choose fight—but the betrayal is causing the flight in me to set in motion.
“Scar, it’s probably not what it looks like. Look, he pushed her away,” Trish tries to soothe me, putting her hand on my shoulder, and I shrug it off, this time losing my composure.
“Keys! Now!” Without pause, she hands them to me, and my feet take off, far ahead of my broken heart, which is still thirty steps behind me. Before I ran, he looked me straight in the eyes, reaching down my throat and taking my heart right out of me.
Getting out to Trish’s car, I start up the Tesla and speed out of there. Passing the entrance of the club, I see Gideon running out the door, and he slams his fist down on the back of the car, screaming my name, but I don’t stop. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
I can’t go to the house, because it’s empty and I would have to face him there, and I don’t dare go to his mother’s, where our kids are. The emotions are too high, the heartbreak too palpable, and the only place I have left is the last place I should go but end up there in thirty minutes.
My mother’s penthouse.
Pulling into the private garage with her code, I let myself in, and just as I park, I see Gideon outside the gate, right on my coattails. Hurrying, I run to the elevator, and he doesn’t bother parking. Instead, he stops in front of the elevator doors and leaves it running.
Just as those last inches close, I hear him yell, “Fuck, Scar, baby!”
As I climb each floor, I’m finally able to cry and let it all out. My chest rises and falls hard and painfully, the elevator music drowned out by my sobs. Sure, I will get to her penthouse, but that won’t stop him. Once her elevator goes back down, he’ll come up here, and then what? I don’t know, but I’m only doing what I can to try to find a way to get away from the man I love, who at the moment, holds my bleeding heart in the palm of his hand.
The elevator doors slide open, and my mother jumps up from the couch in direct line of vision of the elevator. “Oh my word, Scarlett. You look a mess. What’s going on?” I don’t see her current husband who’s funding this expensive penthouse, thank God.
“It’s Gideon. He—he….” I can’t finish. Instead, I take trembling steps to the couch and sit, bringing my head to my hands and letting out all I have left. My mother stands above me, pressing me to tell her what’s going on. Instead of just consoling me, she pushes, rambling on about my appearance and how terrible I look. Why would I expect more? I would be out of my mind.
“Baby!” Gideon steps out of the elevator, his expensive shoes warning me with each step just how close he is to reaching me.
I stand fast, knowing I can’t let him touch me. The sad and most pathetic part of this? If he begged me hard enough, I would most likely go back, because the thought of losing him is more painful than living with him and his deceit and betrayal.
“No, Gideon!” I holler, and my mother scolds me.
“Scarlett Pierce! Do not speak like that. It’s embarrassing. What is going on?”
“Nothing that concerns you. This is between my wife and me.”
She scoffs. “Clearly not, since she’s a disheveled mess in my living room. Straighten up now, Scarlett. Your makeup is running. You are in the presence of your husband. How dare you think it’s appropriate to look like this!”
Instinctively, I follow orders. Wiping at the mascara and tears under my eyes, I try to suck back in the wetness beneath my nose and stand up straight.
Gideon looks at me with a broken gaze, and I can’t tell if it’s over the callous way my mother is treating me, or if he’s just sorry he was caught.
“What you saw was poor timing. I did not kiss her, nor did I reciprocate when she kissed me,” he begins, and I shake my head.
“No, you’re lying. You wanted it. I have kissed you for years. I know your desire when… when I see it,” I counter.
