“I’m okay,” I lied. “Just working a lot, that’s all.”
A lot? More like every fucking hour god sent.
“Well, I was thinking maybe this weekend,” Lila’s voice dripped with hesitation, so I quickly agreed. That was four days away, but I could do it. I could cope. “You can have the spare room.”
Memories assaulted me of she and I entwined in bed together, my arms wrapped around her as she pushed her butt into me, our bodies moulding perfectly against each other as we slept.
I’d die for that just one more time.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
Liar.
“See you Saturday.” The phone went dead before I could say another word, but I didn’t care, because I was going home.
And I wasn’t letting Lila go without a fight.
Fuck the divorce.
Fuck the house.
I’d lost her, and now I needed to get her back. In any way I could.
She’d left me. Burned my truck down and hated my guts. Changed the locks. She’d filed for a divorce and put the house up for sale.
But I still fucking loved her so much. I’d thought our marriage was over before—now I knew it was. That it should be—that I didn’t deserve her. But does the heart care about any of that? No. It wants what it wants, and that’s Lila.
I wanted Lila. Even after everything, she was still all I wanted.
37
LILA
Victor was here.
Enzo had brought him, and my heart leapt about a million times when I saw Victor’s face as he walked up the drive. He’d done that so many times before; walking up the drive, complaining about the neighbour’s parking and how tired he was. He’d then see me and his eyes would light up—actually light up—and he’d cuddle me and chat about dinner.
If I made him react like that when he saw me, why did he fucking cheat on me?
I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned my attention back to my phone. I’d been researching pregnancy trimesters and had found myself on a forum for expectant mothers. Then I’d gotten lost in all the posts, seeing myself in so many of them. Apparently, after twelve weeks of pregnancy, it got easier, as the placenta was formed and could provide for the baby without relying on my body.
My hand stroked my stomach as I read, until there was a knock at the door—how very polite of him. But then, his key no longer worked, so what did I expect?
I inhaled and closed my eyes before striding to the door, saying a silent prayer for me not to murder him upon sight.
It was always a possibility.
I opened the door, and there he stood—the morning sunlight creating a halo effect around his head.
He wasnofucking angel.
“Morning,” he greeted me, his chocolate brown eyes locking on mine. His gaze dropped to my stomach and his lips lifted in the corner before he caught himself.
“Hi,” I replied stiffly, forcing my gaze to Enzo who waved from his car. I smiled at him and waved back, then moved back to let my wreck of an ex-husband back into the house.
His cologne hit me first, assaulting my senses so violently I felt dizzy. I stared at the olive skin on his neck as he walked past me, wondering if Cami kissed it like I used to. Open mouthed kisses like he loved, dragging my teeth along it with promises of what was to come…
Urgh, fuck.
