Page 69 of The Awful Truth

“Toni, I’ll end it tomorrow morning. Or right now, if you want. I can just go back to her room and tell her it’s over.”

“It’s too late.”

“No, it can’t be,” he said, standing up and walking over to her. “I screwed up, yes. And I promise I can do the work to fix this. You’re right about everything. I was pathetic and weak and…a ridiculous cliché. But I can fix it. I can. I love you and I want to be there for you and with you, until you stop feeling the shame of my choices. What do you want me to do? I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

She pushed off the counter and walked away from him, returning to the desk. “Stop. Just stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

He sucked in a shaky breath, knowing he was about to lose everything. When he spoke, it came out as a whisper. “Please, Toni. Please don’t do this. Think of the kids—they’ll be devastated.”

“They’re adults. They’ll survive.”

“But the staff. We’ve got hundreds of people relying on us so they can pay their mortgages.”

“Yes, you should’ve thought about them before you screwed her in the stairwell at the St. Regis while I was waiting in the car.” She smirked at the shocked look on his face. “That’s right. I know everything. But don’t worry about the staff. They’ll still have work. Because I realized something right around the time you were letting her fall asleep in your arms—she probably deserves to fall asleep in your arms, doesn’t she? Because she doesn’t get to wake up with you every morning?”

He let out an involuntary oof, the remaining bit of air in his lungs escaping him.

“Yes, of course she does. Poor, sweet girl. Only she truly understands you, right? But I digress. What was I saying?” She knew exactly what she had been saying. She was toying with him just for the fun of it, and he damn well knew it. “Oh yes, I was about to tell you about the realization I came to earlier.” She gave him a nasty smile. “I get to decide everything from now on. Because if you even try to say no to me, I’ll ruin you. So this is what we’re going to do: say nothing about this to anyone. My lawyer is drawing up a contract for you and if you meet my demands, you can save your reputation. We sign another deal with Summit. We give Charlotte a quiet severance package. A few months into the new contract, you announce you’re stepping back for health reasons. I carry on with the show. Then, after a while, we announce that we’re parting ways amicably. If I want, I’ll write a book about how to survive life after divorce. And you fade into the sunset.”

She was taking everything. Everything he built. It was too much to hear. Ted’s skin felt suddenly hot and he clenched his fists. For the first time in his entire life, he wanted to hit her. Unleash a fury of punches to stop her awful mouth from running. Not another word. Not one more word.

Nodding, she said, “Yeah, take it in, Ted. Take it all in. You’ve been fucking our assistant, and now I get to fuck you. There’s something very poetic about the whole thing, when you really think about it.”

She walked over to the closet and opened it, getting out her nightshirt. “I think I’ll go shower while you make up a bed for yourself on the couch. We have another day of pretending everything is wonderful for Travis tomorrow.”

“Toni, please. I am so⁠—”

“Nope. You don’t get to apologize for fucking up both our lives and our careers. You get to shut up now.”

THE DAY OF THE INCIDENT

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves." ~ William Shakespeare

3:37 A.M. — WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12

WINSLOW

Winslow sat in the armchair in the corner of the room, near the foot of the bed. His eyes grew heavy as he gazed at Miguel, who was fast asleep on his back, his lips slightly parted. He wanted to drink in the sight of that beautiful man for as long as possible, but he knew it would only be another minute or two now. If he waited much longer, he’d lose his battle and drift off.

His mind wandered to his last conversation with Miguel, when they were wrapped in each other’s arms. “I can’t believe you forgave me so quickly. I am the luckiest man to ever have lived.”

“Not really. If I keep forgiving you, you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

“Good, because that’s what I want.” Miguel’s smile faded, and he turned onto his side to face Winslow. “We can make it work, right? When I’m in Canada?”

“Of course. So long as you don’t fall for some burly lumberjack with maple syrup for cologne.”

Chuckling, Miguel said, “All those empty carbs? Never.”

“Says the man who devoured an entire plate of truffles three nights ago.”

“I’m only human, man. They were Knipschildt's.”

Winslow laughed. “I’ll concede the point.”

Miguel put on a formal British accent. “You’ll concede, will you?”

Doing a terrible Cuban American accent, Winslow said, “Yes, I will.”