Page 46 of Playing With Love

When she didn’t react, I asked another question. The question that she’d never answered.

“Why do you blame me for Boyer cheating on you?”

“I don’t, not really.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“I already admitted I said a lot of things I didn’t mean.”

She was right, she had. But this was different. This wasn’t her speaking out of turn, pushing me away. Deep down she blamed me for her ex stepping out on their marriage.

“Please, for the love of God, woman, stop with the shit and tell me the truth.”

She tipped her eyes up and determination flashed.

The Liza I knew was back.

My Liza.

Cheater.

The pain of that radiated.

“I knew when he asked me to marry him I was in love with you. I knew when I married him I was still in love with you. I knew a month into my marriage I loved you in a way that would never die. I knew it was wrong. I’d never love him but I thought I was justified because he didn’t love me either. That wasn’t what we had, yet I was carrying on a one-sided emotional affair. Arnie knew it. He felt it. He even called me out on it. I can’t say I was totally honest with him about my feelings for you, but I couldn’t hide I felt deeply for you. I actually think that’s why he asked me to marry him. He wouldn’t have to worry about having his wife fall in love with him and he could carry on doing what he wanted, all the while looking like a proper husband for the press.” Liza paused long enough to take a deep breath then quickly rushed out the rest. “I don’t blame you, not in the sense that it’s your fault. I blame my feelings for you and not being able to stop loving you, for my life spiraling out of control.”

That was what she considered cheating?

What the fuck?

If two years ago someone told me I’d be furious to learn Liza loved me, I would’ve laughed—gut-busting, steal-your-breath hilarity. The kind that brought a tear to your eye and to your side a stitch. But right then, hearing Liza admit she loved me, had loved me two years ago, had loved me before she married her ex, had me seeing red.

Furious didn’t fucking touch the emotion coursing through me.

What I was feeling was so far past anger there were no words to describe it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Her bravado multiplied tenfold.

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding?”

No, she looked like she was squaring up for a fight.

“Check the attitude, Lizzy.”

That earned me big eyes and another jerk of her chin.

“Now, you’re the one fucking kidding.”

“No, baby, I don’t find a goddamn thing funny about finding out we lost out on a fuckton of time because neither of us could be honest. In an effort to rectify that I’m gonna make it crystal clear—if you think to bolt I’ll track your ass down, and when I find you, you won’t like the consequences.”

Liza’s eyes narrowed then dropped to her mostly unzipped suitcase that looked like a five-year-old had thrown shit in a case with no regard.

When her eyes made the slow trek back to me they were still full of hostility, still narrowed, still full of fire and fight.

“I need to go to Tennessee.”

“No. You need to figure out how you’re gonna zip up that suitcase, then I’m gonna carry it out to my SUV, then we’re headed back to TC. After that we’re talking.”