Page 78 of Cursing My Cheating Husband

A wine glass on the open shelving across the kitchen exploded.

“You think there’s any apology in the world that could fix what you’ve done to me?” Another glass blew up.

“I know there isn’t.”

“Look at how crazy you’ve made me! I don’t know what to believe anymore!” I was screaming at the top of my lungs. An entire row of wine glasses detonated in sequence like dominoes. Maddox was standing far enough away, but the glass showered his elaborate meal prep. So much for overnight crème brûlée French toast.

“I wish there was something I could do to fix what I’ve done.” His eyes were watering, which made me even more enraged.

“Oh, fuck off. There’s no fixing this! How am I going to trust anyone after what you’ve done to me? Years of lies! Years! Years of you fucking every woman that crossed your path, and then coming home and telling me you loved me. And I had no idea!”

The mixing bowl shattered, sending custard pouring onto the floor.

“Do you know how many of those guys this summer could have been something? How many of them wanted more? But as soon as they did, I pulled the plug.” Rage built in my voice. “I can’t put myself back in the position you put me in! I can’t give someone that power over me again.”

The kitchen had gone quiet. I shook my head.

“This was my greatest fear, the solitary witch life. I knew I didn’t want that for myself. I knew I wanted a husband, and not only a coven.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “But now I get it. I thought I knew better, but those witches knew how to live. Men just for flings, and nothing more. It’s not sad. It’s smart. It’s protection.”

Maddox’s knees hit the floor.

It happened so fast I almost didn’t process it. One moment he was standing, the next he was kneeling at my feet, looking up at me with a beseeching expression.

“Please,” he said. “Please don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? Protect myself?”

“Don’t give up on love.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“Not with me. I know it can’t be with me.” He was talking fast now. “But someone. Please, give someone a chance.”

This felt like a hallucination. “Are you seriously kneeling in glass right now begging me to get with another man?”

“The most important thing to me—” His voice broke. He swallowed hard and tried again. “The only important thing to me now is that you find love again. Real love, with someone who deserves you. Please, don’t let what I did turn you into someone you’re not.”

“I don’t want to be the doormat you married,” I snarled.

“You wanted love. Real partnership. You deserve it, and you can give it, because you gave it to me. Don’t give up on that because I was too broken to return it to you.” He looked up at me with those wet hazel eyes. “Other men aren’t like me. Don’t turn on all of them because of how rotten I am. Please.”

The kitchen was silent except for my own ragged breathing and the occasional soft tink of settling glass.

“And what, you figured all this out in therapy?” The words came out sharp and mocking. “Had some big breakthrough about love and trust?”

“Yes.” He said it simply. “That’s exactly where I figured it out.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” I glared at him. “How am I supposed to believe any of this?”

“Do you want to use the memory magic again? Would that help?”

Everything in me went quiet. I hadn’t expected that.

He locked his eyes on mine. “Total access. Not just therapy. Anything you need to see, anywhere in my mind.”

I should have said no. The memory magic was too intense, too overwhelming. And I desired separation from Maddox now, not going deeper.

I should have told him I didn’t need to see inside his head, that I didn’t care what he did in therapy, that nothing he could show me would change anything.