Page 113 of Married to Lies

I sat down beside her. “Let me be the judge of that,” I said. So far, all I’d seen was a resourceful woman dealt a bad hand. Every time she’d been knocked down, she’d managed to claw her way back up until she had one of the biggest cleaning companies in the city.

With shaking breaths and a stilted voice, she filled me in on her last few weeks with Conrad and then Claire. Everything from her digging through my trash to planting a bug on my family photo came out. Hearing her story, I vacillated between horror and pure rage. My teeth gritted together, and my hands clenched tighter by the second.

I wanted to punch Conrad in the face as much as I wanted to hide in a corner. I was so ashamed for ever getting wrapped up with Claire.

“Conrad’s out of my business,” she said. “I fired him and Cour—Claire. My lawyer and I met with the police soon after to file claims of blackmail and corporate espionage. Claire violated her parole and is back in jail. I know it doesn’t undo the things I hid from you, but⁠—”

“It doesn’t,” I said, still feeling like my chest was cracking. I couldn’t quite catch my breath. “You put my entire business at risk to save yours.”

Tears fell down her cheeks, making them wet like her tousled hair. “At first, it was all about protecting my employees, but then I got to know what a good man you are. I was waiting to tell you everything until the contract was in place so my employees would have jobs after Conrad went to the press.”

“You used me,” I said roughly.

She bristled. “You used me too.”

“I would have asked you out anyway!” I argued. “Did you only say yes to our date to gather information?”

She stalled, giving me the confirmation I needed. “That wasn’t all. I wanted to know the guy who was writing me notes.”

My chest squeezed painfully. I wanted so badly for us to have something real, but it was all stacked on a tower of lies. “If you had told me the truth before today, I could have helped you. I have a team of lawyers, security officers that could have protected us both from Conrad and Claire. My publicists could have been ready with a spin on your history and traded deals to keep the news from dropping like this... Was any of it real?”

“Quentin, I’ve always been myself with you!” she argued. “Practicing English with my stuffed animals? Real. My love of fashion? Real. My feelings for you? Real.”

“You spied on me for weeks,” I argued, feeling dirty and used. “You knew someone was trying to take me down, and you married me anyway without saying a thing.” Each word made the violation feel even more devastating.

She got up, walking toward me. “I’m used to doing things on my own. Every time I’ve leaned on someone for help, things have gone badly for me. My mentor, my roommate, my parents, Conrad. I’ve learned I’m the only one I can trust, but I was wrong.”

I cast a questioning glance at her, eyes burning with restrained emotion.

“You’re the best man I know,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Her voice weaseled into the cracks of my heart and pulled all the pieces apart. That’s what made all of this worse. I loved her too. “I c-can’t see y-you right now,” I said. “I n-need...” I raked my hands through my hair, hating the stutter I’d worked a lifetime to repress. “I-I ne-need s-s-space.”

She nodded, sniffling. “How long? When can we talk again?”

My chest felt hollow as I gave her my truth, the words falling plainly off my tongue. “I d-don’t know.”

54 Rei

Any other man would have demanded I leave his home, not caring about the cold, or wind, or what I’d left inside. Quentin only sat quietly while I gathered my few things and walked to the front door.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He met my eyes and said, “Me too.”

My chest felt hollow as I stepped onto the front porch. As soon as I was down the steps, Jada was out of their car and walking toward me. She clung her shawl around her against the harsh wind. “How did it go?”

A hot tear slipped over my cheek, and I shook my head.

“Oh, Rei...” Jada breathed. “Come on, let me drive you home.” She went to the car where Bryce waited, and he rolled down the window for her. After they exchanged a few words, she came with me, getting in the driver’s seat of my car while I sat on the other side.

I leaned back into my seat, the warmers a source of comfort.

Jada backed out of his driveway to take me home. “Want to tell me about it?” she asked, eyes focused on the road.

Shaking my head, I said, “I don’t even know what the article says, but it can’t be worse than the look on his face.”

“The article wasn’t that bad,” Jada said firmly. “The journalist didn’t say anything different than the story you told me.”