Page 17

Now it's just me, a massive hangover, and a cheating ex-boyfriend to evict.

CHAPTER 8

SUMNER

I cut the engine of my truck. The hour-long drive from St. Pete to Lakeland gave my body plenty of time to stiffen up. My dick is sore, my back aches, and I don’t have a single regret. I stare at the front door of my house, hoping like hell my cum did its job and I left a baby growing inside Goldie.

Then my gaze shifts to the white SUV parked in the driveway.

Delia’s home.

The second I see my wife’s car, my hand tightens around the steering wheel.

I spent the last year thinking I was the problem. Taking vitamins, reading every stupid article I could find online, stressing over timing and trying to stay positive every month it didn’t happen while my wife stood there and fed me straight bullshit.

Yesterday, finding out what she’d done fucked me up. I thought I’d wake up today feeling even worse.

Then I spent the night with Goldie.

Now I’m sitting in my driveway with her sweet scent still clinging to my skin, and all I have left for the woman inside this house is disgust.

Knowing I can’t put it off any longer, I grab my keys and head inside. The air conditioning makes goosebumps lift along my skin, and the same overly floral scent of whatever expensive diffuser Delia buys sits heavily in the air. The whole house looks like a showroom. White furniture, glass surfaces, everything exactly where Delia likes it. For the first time, I notice how little of me is anywhere in here.

How did I never notice before?

She’s in the kitchen, leaning against the island, scrolling on her phone. Her blonde hair is styled in perfect waves, her makeup flawless even on a Sunday afternoon. When she hears my footsteps, she sets her phone down, crosses her arms, and levels me with a glare.

"Where were you?" she demands, her tone sharp. "You didn't come home last night and you’ve been ignoring my calls."

I just stare at her. The audacity of this woman acting like she has any right to demand a damn thing from me. I don’t even know who she is anymore. Maybe I never did.

A harsh, humorless laugh scrapes out of my throat. I drop my keys on the counter, and they land with a loud clink.

"You want to know where I was?"

I open the cupboard, grab a glass, and fill it from the pitcher in the fridge before I look at her again.

"I spent the night trying to get another woman pregnant."

Her mouth falls open.

"A complete stranger," I add. "She wants a baby, so I gave her what you spent the last year pretending you wanted."

Her arms drop from where they’re crossed over her chest, and for once, she has nothing to say.

I take a drink of water. "You can probably still smell her on me."

That does it.

Color floods her face, climbing fast under her makeup as her fingers curl against the edge of the island.

"Are you insane?" she snaps, her voice shrill. "You cheated on me?"

I set the glass down on the counter. "You ended this marriage the second you had surgery behind my back to make sure I could never get you pregnant."

"I never wanted kids! I thought you'd grow out of it. I thought once we got married, you'd realize we were enough!"

"You thought you could change my mind." I stare at her, trying to wrap my head around the fact that she can say this shit out loud and still think she’s the one who got screwed over. "And when that didn’t work, you decided it was easier to lie to me than admit you never wanted the same life I did."