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“Oh, my God!” I cry out in a pained wail as I hover over the commode. I wrap my arms around my waist as I dry heave, the acid burning from my gut to my esophagus.
“Shit,” Quinn mumbles. He has my hair gathered at the back of my neck with one hand while he rubs my back with the other. When I think I’ve expelled every last drop of fluid from my body, Quinn flushes, and then guides me on shaky legs to the sink. He lifts me, having me sit on the bathroom counter. I watch as he makes fast work of setting out mouth rinse for me, and then wets a rag with cold water.
My hands tremble as I bring the mouthwash to my lips. I feel so empty inside, both literally and figuratively. When I’m finished rinsing, he steps between my legs to place the cool rag at the base of my neck.
Why did he show me Adam? Why did he give me news that would further turn my life upside-down? I shake my head, refusing to believe what I just saw. “It’s a lie. He wouldn’t do that,” I hiss out in denial. It has to be a lie.
Quinn drops the rag on the counter and steadies me by holding onto my shoulders. “It’s true. It was all right there in black and white.”
Love is blind, isn’t it? And I begin to wonder if he really ever loved me to begin with. Then another thought crosses my mind, one in which I don’t like at all. What if he had been cheating on me the entire time we were together, and kept that woman on the side? He had ample opportunity to live a double life since I was attending college, and living in a dorm. I cover my mouth with my hand, feeling my stomach lurch, and I gag.
Quinn cups my cheeks, searching my eyes. “I know what you’re thinking.”
I look at him, astounded, through my blurry eyes as I wipe a tear off my cheek. Anger builds, and my breathing quickens. How dare he try to assume what’s going on in my mind. “How could you even begin to understand what I’m thinking?” I hiss.
I try to push against his broad chest to get down, but he doesn’t budge. He’s determined to have his say. “It’s my job to read people, and women are not as complicated as the world seems to think,” he says adamantly. “It’s easy to tap into the female psyche. Right now, you’re probably asking yourself why he didn’t fight for you, or maybe you’re thinking you must not have meant that much to him in the first place if he could’ve up and married someone else so quickly. Maybe he had someone on the side…because, let’s face it. How can someone who was engaged one minute, turn around and marry someone else in such a short period of time, especially when you were head-over-heels in love?”
My upper lip curls into a snarl. It makes me even madder he thinks he knows it all. “Why keep tabs on Adam at all then? What’s the point?” I cry out.
“It’s our job to keep tabs on everything concerning you.”
“Whose job?” I ask, incensed. “Who besides Nick just has to know in finite detail every aspect of my life?” I spit out with full-on anger, beginning to hyperventilate. Never before have I felt so violated in my personal life by so many people all at once.
“Calm down, blue eyes,” he says placidly, as if I’m getting myself all in a tizzy over nothing. The strength of his character emits a certain confidence, combined with an arrogant pompousness, as he purposely doesn’t answer my question.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” I bark angrily, challenging him.
He gives a slight shake of his head. “Nope.” Then he smacks his lips together in a matter-of-fact, haughty manner.
“My God! Who are you people? Part of the mafia?” I spit out venomously. They must be, because how else can they get all of this information? A new horror of knowledge washes over me, and I forget about Adam for a brief second as I think about who these men are actually associated with. “No wonder you guys have a bunker.”
Quinn throws his head back and laughs, finding both my questions of alarm and statement amusing. I seriously don’t find my questions funny, not at all, and it pisses me off all the more that he has the audacity to find humor at a time like this.
“We’ve been known to associate with them a time or two,” he says, half-chuckling. I’m flabbergasted, and when he sees my mouth gaping open in shock, he adds, “Now c’mon, having a bunker is actually the norm nowadays. You’d be surprised how many preppers are out there who do that shit, but those who are military, especially those who served in Special Forces and saw action…now they come back from overseas all bat-shit-crazy.”
