I take a shaky breath. She's right. No matter what happens with Caine—whether he disappears from my life forever or somehow we find a way forward—I owe Reeves the complete, devastating truth about what I've done. About who I've become. About the woman who's been living a double life under his roof, sharing his bed while her heart belongs to another man. I owe him that much courage, that fundamental honesty, even if it destroys everything we've built together.
Even if it means watching the hurt bloom across his face when I tell him about the secret meetings, thetouches, the way I've fallen so completely for someone else that I can barely recognize myself anymore.
The thought terrifies me—seeing disappointment replace the love in his dark eyes, watching him realize that the woman he married, the mother of his child, has been slipping away piece by piece. But carrying this weight, this crushing guilt that follows me through every mundane moment of our shared life, is slowly killing me from the inside out.
Liza's right about secrets poisoning everything they touch. I can feel the toxicity spreading through every interaction, every forced smile, every time I kiss him goodnight while thinking of another man.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
My hands shake as I pace the small office, waiting for Reeves to finish his conversation with Greg at the bar. The walls feel like they're closing in, covered with old tournament photos and receipts pinned to a corkboard. I've rehearsed the words a hundred times, but none of them feel right.
When he finally walks through the door, his smile dies instantly.
"What's wrong?" He closes the door behind him, studying my face. "You look like you're about to puke."
I can't meet his eyes. "We need to talk."
"About what?" But his voice already carries that edge—the one that appears when he knows bad news is coming. He takes a seat on one of the leather chairs.
I sit in the other one, and I study the walls for a longtime. I inhale a deep breath and close my eyes. My eyes tear up under closed lids. This is so hard. "I… slept with Caine." The words tumble out in a rush. "Twice."
Silence. Complete, suffocating silence. I force myself to look at him, and the expression on his face—confusion morphing into understanding and finally settling into utter devastation—makes my stomach twist with nausea. The gravity of the situation presses down on me, leaving me breathless and fearful of what comes next.
He slumps down into his chair. I'm shocked he hasn't thrown something yet—he's surprisingly calm. "When?" His voice is barely a whisper.
God, this is so painful. "The first time… was at his office." I can barely breathe. “Three weeks ago or so. And last night, after dinner."
He lowers his head into his hands. "Where?"
"In his car."
He's so still, I wonder if he's stopped breathing. Then something shifts in his face, and I recognize the warning signs—the way his jaw tightens, his eyes darken, and his hands curl into fists. There's so much hatred in his expression. I brace myself for the hit.
"You’re a fucking whore."
The words hit like ice water.
"My wife. The mother of my son. Spreading her legs for some rich asshole in the back of a car like a goddamn prostitute.”
I stand and reach for him. “Reeves, please—"
"Please, what?" His voice explodes through the small space. "Please understand? Please forgive me for being a selfish slut?"
Before I can react, he's towering over me, and he slaps me across the face. Hard. The sharp crack echoes off the walls as I stumble back into the leather chair. My face burns, shock rendering me speechless.
"I'm going to kill him." His voice is now deadly calm, which terrifies me more than his yelling. "I'm going to find that piece of shit and beat him to death with my bare hands."
"Reeves—"
But he's already gone, slamming the door so hard the tournament photos rattle on the wall.
I sit frozen, hand pressed to my stinging cheek, when Liza appears in the doorway. Her face falls when she sees me.
"I gather it didn't go well."
I shake my head, tears finally spilling over. "He hit me."
She's beside me in an instant, examining my face. "That bastard. Are you okay?"
