Page 29 of Married to Lies

I bit my bottom lip. I didn’t want to disappoint him, and yet, how could I go on a date with him when I was actively betraying him? “Are you sure you want me there?” I hedged. Maybe he’d changed his mind after catching me snooping in his office.

“Why wouldn’t I want you there?” he asked, flipping it on me. “I invited you.”

I gestured toward the picture in explanation.

A small smile touched his lips. Or at least a ghost of one. “Maybe you’ll be in the next picture with us.”

The vulnerable hope in his voice was a knife to the heart.

“Maybe,” I whispered and waved goodbye, pushing my cart back toward the elevator.

But my blood ran cold when I realized: Conrad had heard every word.

13 Quentin

Saturday morning, I blinked my eyes open to darkness. Tugging back my sleep mask, I reached for the nightstand and pushed the button, making my curtains draw back.

Light spilled in through the growing gap, stinging my eyes. The grounds were tinged gray, thanks to winter dormancy and the overcast sky, but I rose from bed, grabbed my water jug, and stood in front of the window, getting the natural light in my eyes to help my circadian rhythm while I drank my water.

I stood there until my water was gone and then padded to the bathroom, changing out of my sleep clothes and into my swim trunks. Slippers kept my feet warm from the tile floor, but nothing could help the brisk air that hit me outside.

Tendrils of steam wafted from my heated pool, like fingers inviting me closer. I kicked off my slippers and dipped into the warm waters. As I worked through my physical therapy routine, the ache in my hip subsided. This weather wasn’t helping the matter.

Then I swam my laps, going back and forth across the pool, the sound of my breath and disrupted water my only company.

Only after my swim did I check my phone for messages while waiting for the shower water to heat up. There were a few questions from the controller about the end-of-year progress report that I answered quickly.

Setting my phone aside, I stepped into the waterfall shower head, relishing the warmth as it sluiced over my body. With my eyes closed, Rei instantly came to mind. That short skirt, tight leggings clinging to thick thighs...

I shuddered, taking my length in my hand.

The way her perfect lips had parted when I walked in behind her as she cleaned my office...

Thinking of her was hotter than any photo, any video I could find, and I took my time imagining just what I would do to her, how her curvaceous body would react to every touch... Fuck, I was done for. She wouldn’t come to this date if she knew exactly how bad I had it. The way my body reacted to the mere thought of her.

The water washed away the proof of my arousal as I soaped the rest of my body. Out of the shower, I moisturized, shaved, and dressed until I was ready for the day. I wouldn’t be going to the office, so I dressed casually in a white button-down with a loose knit sweater and paired it with black pants and suede sneakers.

There were hours yet until my date with Rei—if she showed up—so I got in my car and drove to the hospital. I didn’t often drive, instead using transit time to complete work duties or make calls, so the car still smelled brand new. It had hardly been used at all, with less than a hundred miles on the odometer.

At the hospital, I let the valet take my car to the garage and walked inside. The smell instantly hit my nose, along with a tightness in my chest. The doctor told Bryce that Simon was responding well to treatment, but how long would that last with Simon’s kids in the know? I was sure they had been the ones behind his attack, no matter how devastated Aleyna acted on social media.

My jaw clenched as I continued toward the intermediate care unit. The nurse at the front desk was the same guy as when I first visited. “Does Simon have visitors?” I asked him.

He shook his head, confused. “Is he supposed to?”

I shrugged. I couldn’t imagine my mom or dad being in the hospital for a day without my brother or me visiting, even with our busy schedules.

My footsteps slowed the closer I got to Simon’s room, not sure what I’d see. His feet came into view first, or at least, the shape of them under crisp white linens.

I knocked on the door, softly so I wouldn’t wake him if he was sleeping, but giving him privacy if he was awake and wanted it.

“Come in,” Simon said. “A popsicle sounds really good right now.”

“I don’t have one of those,” I murmured as I entered.

Simon gave me a tired smile, and my heart sank. This is what responding well to treatment looked like?

Red and yellow sores covered his arms and wound up his neck. Patches of gauze covered what I assumed to be the worst of them. There was even one at the corner of his mouth that could have been a giant cold sore if I hadn’t known better. Dark circles were under his eyes, and his whole face was puffy, whether from the IV, side effects of Prussian blue, his chronic heart failure, or a combination of the three, I didn’t know.