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He folds his arms across his chest. “I’m not trying to stir up shit. I simply want my wife back.”
“It’s funny how you only want me now that someone else has me.”
Rolling his eyes, he mutters, “I didn’t even know you two were together, Presley.”
“Well, we are together, so you should just leave and never come back. I’m going through with this divorce, and I’m committed to Jett. You need to listen to me and hear what I’m saying.” My voice is as firm as I can make it and I hope like hell he’s listening.
He shifts on his feet but doesn’t move from his spot, his arms still folded across his chest. “Tell me, baby, what do you think will be different between you and Jett to you and me? He lives the same lifestyle I do so nothing will change there, and you’ll still have groupies to deal with.”
I ignore his use of the word ‘baby’. It’s unlikely he’ll listen to me if I tell him again not to use it. Lennon does what Lennon wants to do. “Jett knows I won’t put up with the same kind of behaviour I put up with from you.”
His brows rise. “What fucking behaviour? I didn’t cheat on you, I didn’t abuse you . . . what the fuck did I do to you?”
My skin pricks with anger and disappointment. I loved him once, and we could have had it all, but he has no idea how to love someone. “Sometimes not doing anything to someone is just as bad as doing something to th
em.”
The look of confusion written across his face is clear. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I wanted you to want me; I wanted you to spend time with me, to have fun with me, to do silly things with me, to fight with me. Instead, you ignored me and hardly included me in your life. That’s what the difference with Jett is – he does all those things with me.”
Understanding dawns for him and he softens his voice. “I can change. I can do those things with you.”
I take a step away from him. “No, it’s too late for us.” I put my hand out again. “So give me the key and please leave.” My voice has turned cold because I realise that might be the only way to make him see we’re done.
His stare causes me to shiver, and the ugliness in his voice when he speaks cuts to the bone. He throws the key at my feet and spits out, “Have it your way, Presley, but I fucking guarantee you that you’re making the wrong choice here. Jett’s a player, and I’ve seen him in action. It won’t be long until he grows bored with you and goes back to his whores.”
I hug my arms to my body and fight like hell to hold myself together. Breaking down in front of my asshole husband is not something I will allow. “Get out,” I order, glaring at him.
He returns my glare for a moment before turning on his heel and stalking out of my apartment.
I wait to hear the door shut and when I do, I sink to the ground and let the tears fall. It hurts to know I gave my heart and soul to that man, that I planned my life around his and wanted children with him. And I feel like an idiot for not seeing him for the man he really is for so long. The sun fucking rose and set around him, and that pisses me off.
The tears flow freely and I don’t try to stop them. I need to let them out so I can finally let him go and move forward. The only saving grace in all this is that I’m much stronger from everything I’ve been through. And from now on, I’ll always put myself first.
Lennon may have broken my heart but he taught me something.
He taught me to own my story and to love myself regardless of any parts that need editing.
I’m over my meltdown when Jett arrives at my apartment later that afternoon. Lennon’s a distant memory as I look at the man standing in front of me now. He’s smiling as if he’s won the lottery and I cock my head and ask, “Why are you so happy today?”
His hands slide around my waist and I’m pulled into his embrace. “What would you say if I told you I had two full days off?”
“I’d say you should spend those two days in bed with me.”
He chuckles and kisses me. “That’s why you’re my woman; we think the same way. But I’ve got an even better suggestion.”
“What?” I can’t wait to hear it.
“Two days in bed at a resort where we have our own private beach and spa.” He nuzzles my neck and murmurs, “I can fuck you on the beach, in the spa, on the bed . . . any-fucking-where you want.”
Oh God.
I’m sold.
“Let’s go.”
He smacks my ass. “Pack your bag, baby, we leave in an hour.”
