I mean—it’s fair.
"Great form today," I tell Ray as he finishes his deadlifts. "Same time Thursday?"
He nods, grabbing his towel. “You sure you're okay, man? You seem... off.”
“All good,” I lie. “I just didn't sleep well.”
At leastthatpart is true. The spare room bed is fine, but every time I close my eyes, I see Jade's face on that video call. The betrayal and devastation. The way she looked at me before she walked upstairs that night. Like she wasn’t telling the truth when she said she believed me.
My phone pings in my pocket as Ray heads to the locker room. I pull it out, expecting a client cancellation or a text from Ross.
It's neither.
UNKNOWN: Are you okay? I've been worried. Let me know you're alright. Mila
Oh fuck. How did she get my number?! I don’t need Mila fucking checking on me, of all people.
I stare at the message. To a stranger, the words look innocent enough. But they're not innocent, are they? Nothing about Mila and me is innocent anymore.
My thumb hovers over the screen.
Delete.
The message disappears like it never existed, thank fuck.
I shove my phone back in my pocket and grab a sanitizing wipe, cleaning equipment and trying to busy my fried brain. Nothing works, though.
Mila kissed me, and I kissed her back.
And I told my wife that nothing happened.
The worst part isn't even the lie itself. It's how easy it was to lie to the woman I love. How the words "nothing happened" rolled off my tongue while Jade gazed at me, trusting me. Shewantedto believe me. She still wants to believe me—I can see it in the way she softens for half a second before remembering she's supposed to be angry.
And I keep letting her down.
I finish my shift somehow, nod at the right moments, correct form when needed, pretend I'm the same Devon who left for New York with stars in his eyes about Grant-fucking-Carey.
That Devon was an idiot.
When I pull into our driveway, the lights are on downstairs. Jade's car is here. She usually has a shift at the bar on Wednesdays, but she mentioned yesterday—in her new, cold way of communicating—that she switched with someone.
I sit in the car for a minute, gathering myself.
Tell her.The thought pounds through my head. Tell her about the kiss. Get it over with.
But then what? She's barely looking at me now, and she thinks nothing happened. I didn’t technically cheat, either; it was one kiss, a stupid drunken kiss that I stopped before it went further. If I tell her, she'll leave. I know she will. And I can't?—
Ican'tlose her.
The front door opens and Jade stands there, wearing one of my old t-shirts, the faded Metallica one she used to steal when we first started dating. I don't know if it means something or if she ran out of clean clothes.
“Are you coming in?" she calls. "Or are you going to sit in the driveway all night?"
Fucking hell.
I grab my gym bag and head inside.
"I picked up stuff for tacos," I say, holding up the grocery bag from the passenger seat. "Your favorite."
