Nausea swims in my stomach, but I ignore it, sending Jade a text.
DEVON: I’m home, but you’re not. I know you’re mad, but please come back. I love you.
Then I fall back onto the pillows which smell of my wife and my previous life, and I scrunch up my eyes and hold my palms against them.
What have I done?
The next morning, the typical LA sunshine spills through the blinds, ripping me from my sleep, which was already shit. I groan and twist my body so I’m facing away from it, my arm reaching out for Jade.
But there is no-one beside me.
I squint, studying the empty bed beside me, the sheets still perfectly made up. Then it hits me—my wife isn’t home. She left me because I spent the night in Mila’s hotel room.
“Ugh,” I mutter, moving onto my back. The sun taunts me again, so I throw myself out of bed, my muscles protesting.
I check my phone; nothing from Jade.
Fucking great.
I head to the spare room where my weights are, and start working out, enjoying the burn. I lose track of time counting the reps, then starting again. Sweat stings my eyes, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
Up, down, breathe, stop.
Repeat.
Idiot.
Idiot.
The words fall in sync with the reps, and I scowl.
You did this.
My hands start to tremble, so I stop, finally catching sight of myself in the mirror across the room. I blink at it like it’s just appeared, even though it’s been there the entire time. I barely recognize the man staring back at me like I’ve ruined his life.
Which I have.
My eyes are bloodshot and red, my cheeks flushed, and my hands are still twitching from the weights.
I wasn’t working out; I was punishing myself.
I head for the shower, wanting to at least be clean if Jade turns up. The hot water does nothing to soothe my guilt, though, and pretty soon it’s gone cold.
My body is drained and moves like lead. The house is too quiet, unlike my head, which won’t stop buzzing with thoughts.
Why hasn’t Jade come home? Why is her phone off?
I move around the house like a ghost, unsure of what to do. I try calling her again, but all I get is her voicemail. I’m torn between wanting to drive to Katrina’s and wanting to give her the space she clearly needs. But Ineedto know what she’s thinking. Is it she thinks I slept with Mila?
I have to tell her that didn’t happen—and at least that’s the truth.
Her voice echoes in my head, and my brows crash together.
“She wanted you the entire time we were together, Devon. She’s a nasty bitch; you just never saw it. Fuck knows why, because you’re not stupid.”
I never saw what?
Was Mila nasty to Jade?
