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“You act like I’m not going to the celebration. I’m just going to be a little late. Why are you tripping?” Journey’s phone vibrated, and she glanced at the screen. “Okay, Prentice is outside. After I say bye to Arielle I—”
“You spend an awful lot of time with your investigator. Are you fucking him?”
Journey reared back as if she’d been slapped. Her wide eyes and shocked expression quickly turned into anger as she got in Laz’s face. He towered over her by several inches, but she was one person who wasn’t intimidated by him. His little spitfire never took shit from him, one of many things he loved about her.
“Are you seriously asking me that?” She glowered at him. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under without her even having to lay a finger on him.
Laz didn’t respond. He hated that he even went there, but the words left his mouth before he could stop them. He knew Journey would never step out on him. Not because he’d kill any man who dared put his hands on her, but because deep down, he knew she loved him.
At least that’s what he wanted to believe.
Laz released a long breath and brushed his hand over his mouth and beard.
“You know what? Do whatever the hell you want.”
Journey placed her hands on his chest before he could walk away, and a lightning bolt of electricity shot through him from his head to his feet. It never failed. She had such a visceral effect on him, even when he was pissed at her.
“Babe, what has gotten into you?” she asked, concern and confusion flashing in her dark, pretty eyes. “I know I’ve been flaking on you lately, but it won’t always be like this. You know that.”
Laz stepped out of her reach and leaned against the counter. “Jay, there’s going to always be a case that you need to pour your all into, and I understand that—to a point. If it’s like this now, how is it going to be if you become DA? I’m not going to keep waiting on the sideline until you decide to put Arielle and me first.”
“What are you saying?” she asked, and her voice held a slight tremble.
Laz had never loved another human being the way he loved her, and he believed in his heart that the feelings were mutual. But at what point should he say enough?
“Just once, I’d love for you to put me first.” He headed out of the kitchen. “Have fun at work.”
“Laz, please….”
He walked out of the room without looking back. Part of him wanted to fight for his marriage and do whatever was necessary to make things right between them. But the other part of him wanted to just sayfuck it—and move on.
Right now, he wasn’t sure which part of him would win.
