Page 146 of The Wright Man

And then his mouth—his mouth. His tongue on mine, claiming everything he'd been holding back. My legs around his waist like they'd been waiting for this moment all my life.

Because they had.

And that kiss?

That kiss broke something open in me.

I didn't even try to lie to myself about it. Not anymore.

It felt like coming home. Like opening a door I'd been pounding on for years, only to realize I had the key the whole time.

It was soft and desperate and deep and hungry. It tasted like closure and beginning and something holy.

And it was a fucking mistake.

I knew it. Even as it was happening. Even as my hands clung to him like lifelines. Even as I let my grief pour out of me and into him, needing his kiss more than I needed air.

Because I'd just blown up my friendship. I'd just blown up my marriage. I'd just become a cheater.

This wasn't me. I wasn't this woman.

I was a good wife—even when Gavin wasn't a good husband. Even when he talked to me like I was a burden. Even when he treated me like a broken thing and dared me to call it love.

I never stepped out. Not when I wanted to. Not when I had the chance. Not even when I caught him texting other women, and he gaslit me into apologizing.

But today?

Today I went lower.

I gave another man—it didn't even matter that he was better, that he was everything Gavin wasn't—I gave him what I was only supposed to give my husband.

And the worst part? How right it felt.

How natural. How effortless.

Like my mouth was made to fit his. Like my body knew its way around his without instructions. Like everything I'd spent the last four years repressing was just lying in wait, biding its time.

And when it finally came out—it exploded.

That kiss felt like the first time I could breathe since Maleeka. That kiss felt like healing.

And still... it was a mistake.

Because I made a choice. And so did Maleek.

We'd stood on it. Stood on it like it wasn't crumbling underneath us. Like we weren't both bleeding from the weight of pretending we were fine.

And then we crossed the line anyway.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

"What the fuck did you do, Angie?" I whispered into the silence, my voice hoarse.

I was crying. I didn't remember when it started. Didn't know if it ever really stopped.