Page 92 of His Third Wife

“Then don’t.” Peter paused as he moved in close, still trying to nuzzle his body next to hers. He leaned into her, giving her shoulder a light kiss. “C’mon, lay back down with me.”

Alexandria ignored his coaxing; instead, she slowly stood to her feet as she spoke. “It’s not you. It’s me,” she told him, knowing how off-putting and clichéd her response, albeit truthful, sounded. She could feel thick tension rise in the air as soon as the words left her mouth, so she tried to speak in a gentle tone. “There’s a lot going on in my life right now. Things that have nothing to do with you, Peter.”

“I don’t believe this.” Peter reluctantly reached for his boxers as Alexandria pulled her sundress over her head and then slid it down the length of her curvaceous body. “So where does this leave me?” he asked.

She wanted to tell him, How the hell do I know? I can’t even figure out what’s going on in my own life, let alone yours. But she knew this wasn’t the time for such declarations, so she leavened her tone, inserting a measure of compassion in her voice. “I need to be alone tonight so I can think.”

“Think? . . . Think about what, Alexandria?”

“Life, and what I’m supposed to do with mine. Like I said, there’s so much going on right now. I hope you can understand.”

Peter shook his head in dismay. “I’ve been trying hard to understand you, especially over the last couple weeks. I’ve been patient when you zone out on me, and I’ve tried to be understanding when you say you have a lot going on, like now, even though you never give a clue about exactly what the problem is.”

Alexandria looked into Peter’s dark brown eyes and nodded, knowing he deserved to hear the full truth: She was so scared about what was happening to her that she didn’t have time to focus on their relationship. But at the same time, she knew Peter’s primary focus was really on himself and his feelings—because not once had he asked her what kinds of things were bothering her.

She’d met Peter two years ago while working as a summer intern at Johnson, Taylor, and Associates, one of the largest law firms in the Atlanta Metro area. She’d been in her last year of law school at UPenn, and somewhat ambivalent about pursuing a career in the legal field. Peter had just graduated from Yale University School of Law, was an ambitious first-year associate at the firm, and was already rumored to be a rising star within the ranks. Although he was a bit uptight and a little too formal in his attitude than what Alexandria liked, Peter’s tall, muscular physique, smooth dark chocolate skin, and handsome face had all attracted her to him. They had spotted each other during the first day of new employee orientation and had gone out for drinks during happy hour a week later.

They’d both been seeing other people at the time, but neither had been seriously involved. Their casual lunches and long dinners slowly turned into much more. They kept in touch after she returned to law school for her senior year, and they saw each other whenever time permitted, which wasn’t often. Once she graduated the next summer they started dating exclusively, and had been together ever since.

“Who is he?” Peter asked.

“What?”

“Please, Alexandria,” Peter said, looking at her with an accusatory glare. “Don’t play me for a fool. If you’re seeing someone else, I’d appreciate you being up front with me instead of feeding me excuses.”

“Oh, like you and Monica?”

Peter let out an exasperated sigh. “I told you, that was nothing.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I can’t help it if the woman showed up on my doorstep out the blue.”

“Excuse me, but it makes a difference when the woman you’re referring to, just happened to be your ex-girlfriend! And for someone who mysteriously showed up unwelcome, you sure did make her feel at home,” Alexandria said, returning his accusing stare. “I got here and found you two drinking wine and laughing, acting all cozy.”

“Number one, we weren’t cozy. We were simply talking,” Peter said in a direct tone. “She was depressed because the guy she was seeing had just dumped her. She needed someone to talk to and—”

“And you were the first person she went running to,” Alexandria countered. “I think that’s very strange, especially given the fact that you dumped her, too. So why on earth would she come to you for a shoulder to cry on? It didn’t make sense then, and it still doesn’t make sense now.”

Until last month when Alexandria had caught Peter and his ex in that precarious situation, he hadn’t given her much reason to question his fidelity. He was a pragmatist who preferred diplomacy over drama, and he avoided the latter at all costs. Having extra women on the side only upped the ante for chaos, and Peter wasn’t one for the kind of trouble that fooling around could bring. He was the dependable type, almost to the point of being predictably annoying. Because of his anal manner, a small part of Alexandria believed that even if Peter wanted to stray, it would be challenging for him, given the fact that he also spent most of his time at the office.

Peter routinely worked twelve- and fourteen-hour days, sometimes six days a week, all in his self-imposed race to climb the ladder of success, following in his mother’s large and looming footsteps. She was a circuit court judge and was currently being courted to run for one of Georgia’s congressional seats. She was a demanding overachiever, and Peter wanted to make her proud, which meant working insanely long hours and forfeiting a social life beyond networking functions, where he could make business connections. When he wasn’t at the office—which was hardly ever—he was either working from home, working out at the gym, or spending what little time he had left over with Alexandria.

But Alexandria also knew that just because Peter was a busy, regimented man, that didn’t mean there weren’t opportunities for him to cheat, or that he wasn’t capable. Experience had taught her that regardless of one’s work schedule and personal demands, a man or a woman could make time to do anything he or she really wanted. The only reason she hadn’t followed up on the suspicions lurking in the back of her mind was because of the voice that had been penetrating her thoughts, forcing her to come to grips with a part of her life she’d been trying to avoid since she was five years old.

“I know it doesn’t make

sense to you,” Peter said, “but that’s exactly what happened when Monica came over here. Nothing more, nothing less. I’m telling you the truth.”

Alexandria shrugged. “Whose truth?”

“If I wanted to sleep with her, I could’ve done that a long time ago.”

“And that’s another thing. Why do you still keep in contact with your ex-girlfriend?”

Peter let out another frustrated sigh. “We only talk once in a blue moon, like at the holidays, just to wish each other well.”

“And why is that even necessary?”

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