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Chloe hesitated. After almost two hours with Pamela Lang, she still wasn’t sure what she wanted or what she was going to do. “I just wanted to know my options.”

“You wanted to know what’s in it for you,” he corrected. “How you can suck me dry.”

“No,” she insisted. “But Idohave rights.”

“As do I. Especially where my children are concerned.”

“So, are you saying that if we get a divorce, you’re going to fight me for custody?”

“Are we getting divorced, Chloe? Is that what you really want? Because it’s not what I want,” he said before she could answer. “God knows it’s the last thing in the world thatIwant.”

“Whatdoyou want?”

“I want this silly misunderstanding to be over. I’ve been trying to give you some space, give you time to calm down, but I want to come home. I want to be a father to our kids. I want my life back. I wantyou.I wantus.” He pushed his hair away from his forehead in a gesture that Chloe had always found unbearably sexy.

She swallowed the renewed threat of tears. Could she do it? Could she pretend this was all somesilly misunderstanding? “You asked me before what I really want…”

“Tell me.”

“I want the truth,” Chloe said. Did she? Or did she just want her husband to be more convincing in his lies?

Matt said nothing for several long seconds. “These women,” he finally conceded. “I swear. They meantnothingto me.”

Chloe no longer fought to keep her tears at bay. “Well, they mean something tome,” she cried, making no attempt to wipe those tears away.

He was on his feet, moving toward her. “I see that now. And I’m so sorry I hurt you. I promise to do better…”

“How many women have there been, Matt?”

He froze. “Oh, God. Do we really have to?”

“How many?”

He sank back down. “What good will talking about this do?”

“How many?” she repeated.

“I don’t know.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Half a dozen, maybe.”

“Half a dozen,” she repeated, silently doubling that number. Matt had always manipulated figures, exaggerating or underplaying them to his advantage, even when there was no need. A four-hour plane ride became five; he’d paid two hundred dollars for a sweater, not three; he’d won fifty dollars on a bet, not five or ten, depending on whom he was talking to.

He’d cheated on her with half a dozen women, not twelve. Or fifteen. Or twenty.

She’d been turning a blind eye to his infidelities—to his casual cruelty—for as long as she’d known him. He wasn’t going to change. This is who he was, who he’d always been. The only question now was, who was she?

“I think you should go now,” she said, surprised by the calmness in her voice when her heart was beating so fast it felt as if it was about to burst from her chest. “Thanks for coming over this afternoon. I appreciate it. I really do.” She stood up, glancing toward the front door.

He looked confused. “What? I’m being dismissed?”

“I’ll call you.”

“You’llcallme? Like this is all up to you?” He rose slowly, even menacingly, to his feet.

“I think we’ve said everything…”

“So, I tell you the truth and you punish me for it? That’s how this works?”

“I need time to think.”

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