But he hadn’t left me alone so far, constantly calling and texting, telling me how much he loved me.
If we were over, why hadn’t he gone to her? He was fighting for me, but I was done.
Even though I loved him so much it hurt, he had to feel the pain I’d felt. That I felt every fucking time I watched that video.
He had to pay.
And so did that bitch.
12
VICTOR
My mother and sister hated me, and my wife? I didn’t have a fucking clue because she wouldn’t speak to me.
Well, today, she wouldn’t have a choice. I was going to see her at work; fuck it.
It was a Sunday, so I wasn’t at the building site today, thank fuck. The sky was grey, but so far there wasn’t any rain. I drove my truck to the store she worked at, parking at the back in one of the few spaces left. I sat in the cab with the engine turned off, watching the people around me going about their regular days. And for some reason, it fucking hurt.
Families everywhere, kids running ahead of parents who warned them of the dangers of cars, while couples kissed over takeout coffees.
I’d never noticed it before, because I’d always been part of it. The couple. The happy, kissing couple.
Until I wasn’t.
I scrunched my eyes shut and took a deep breath, bracing myself for seeing my beautiful wife for the first time since I’d broken her heart.
I headed into the store, my eyes searching for her among the staff. They all wore red aprons with large name tags on, so they didn’t blend into the crowd easily.
I couldn’t see her at first, and I began to panic, scanning the aisles one after another until I found her.
Relief owned me as I exhaled, the sight of her silky black hair tied high in a ponytail, swishing as she walked, making me calm where I’d been crazy for days.
She’d always been able to do that—calm me when nothing or no one else could. I headed after her, stopping in my tracks when a man called her name.
“Lila?”
My wife turned, and even though I could only see her profile, I saw the delight on her face. Her full lips spread into a wide smile, her eyes widening.
“Carl? Is that really you?”
A beefcake of a guy walked toward her, shaking his head. He had a buzzcut and was covered in tattoos, and I was relieved to see a petite blonde clinging to his arm.
“Yeah! Wow, how are you doing? It’s been, what, twenty odd years?”
Oh great. A blast from the past, just when I wanted a private moment with my wife. I ducked behind the paint aisle, where I could still hear her talking. Her voice soothed the fuck out of me.
“It has! I’m good, thank you, and you? Who’s this beautiful lady?”
“This is my wife, Darlene. Isn’t she the prettiest thing you ever saw?”
There was a beat before Lila responded, and it made me hate myself even more. Here was a guy out with his wife on a Sunday, buying shit for their home, praising the high heavens out of her.
Fuck.
“She sure is,” Lila eventually agreed, but I heard the pain in her voice. The pain I put there.
“How’s the old man doing? I’ve not seen him in so long.”
