Page 101 of The Contract Marriage

That afternoon, I leave work early and hit the pool hard, trying to sluice away the filth Brielle left in my mind. But no matter how fast I move in the water, it lingers.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to forget the pictures, but they’re etched in my memory. The soft look in my wife’s eyes as she gazed at Simon. The way she walked out of the lobby with him. How he smoothed her hair as it came undone.

It might’ve been nothing. She might’ve had a meeting there.

But my imagination runs wild. A thousand scenarios, none of them good, sprout like weeds after a rain. I stop at the end of a lap and run my hands over my face. This type of reaction is exactly what Brielle wants. She’s trying to damage my relationship with Olivia, to ensure my wife has nobody on her side.

If I want to make our marriage real, I need to trust her. Be the kind of husband she deserves. I expel a rough breath. Come on. Don’t let trash like Brielle ruin the good thing you have. You have the love of your life by your side.

Olivia comes home on time, climbing out of Simon’s car. He rushes over to escort her, but I’m faster.

“Welcome home, wife.” I paste on a smile that hurts my cheeks.

“What a sight.” She hugs me. “You feel damp. Did you just come out of the pool?”

“Yeah. Needed to clear my head.”

“Problem at work?”

“Just some stuff. Nothing I can’t handle.”

She nods. “If you want to bounce some ideas around, I’m here.” Her hand rests right over my heart. It responds, racing helplessly at her touch, even as my head chills. Did she touch him there too in that restaurant?

She turns to Simon. “Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow.”

He nods and waves. “See you, Olivia.”

The fucker doesn’t even acknowledge me, but then his feelings aren’t any friendlier than mine.

Would he have blown her a kiss if I wasn’t around?

He gets behind the wheel. I dip my head and kiss her hard, knowing he’s watching. My tongue slips into her mouth, and she loops her arms around my neck. She sucks my tongue, then pushes hers in.

I should trust my wife. Brielle is a viper. The photos and the video keep playing in my head like a slideshow even as I deepen the kiss.

You should’ve taken them off her phone. Checked to see if they’re real or not.

Now it’s too late to ask. It’ll look like I believe that bitch over my wife, and that won’t do. Brielle’s hurt her so much over the years. I’ll never let Brielle manipulate me into hurting Olivia.

Despite my resolve, the vise around my chest only tightens as the evening progresses.

“That crystallized ginger you brought today is amazing. It’s so much mellower, not at all sharp. I never really liked ginger much, but…” Olivia gives me a bright smile.

I smile back because it’s expected, but the pain in my chest doesn’t ease. My morning triumph turned to ashes hours ago.

That night, holding Olivia in my arms, I lie awake as my mind unfurls a reel of Simon kissing my wife at the Ritz-Carlton in an endless loop. When sleep finally finds me, I dream of a baby girl with black hair and dark eyes.

Chapter Forty-Two

Olivia

“Is everything okay?” I ask over breakfast at the counter the next day. Well, more like honey and lemon tea for me while Liam is munching on an English muffin and Silas’s jam.

“Yeah, why?” His voice lacks his usual bright energy.

“You look like you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Did I keep you up?” He runs a hand over his face with a small apologetic smile, his eyes troubled.