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When Liam recovered from the attack, he joined me. “Anna, let’s talk about this.”
“No.” I pulled the strap over my shoulder and faced him. He blocked the doorway so I couldn’t get out. I was cornered like a rat. “Move.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” Emotion flooded his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry. They didn’t mean anything to me—”
“They?” My blood boiled. “Get the hell out of my way, Liam.”
“You said he didn’t mean anything to you when you said his name. Well, they didn’t mean anything to me.”
“But he does mean something to me,” I snapped. “I still love him, and I rejected him so many times because I was committed to you. So, there’s no excuse you can make to justify what you did. You can’t pin this on me. Now, move, or I’ll scratch your eyes out.”
His feet were rooted to the spot.
“Keeping me here isn’t going to change anything, Liam. Making me your prisoner won’t make me forgive you. It won’t fix this. If you wanted to fix this, you could have stayed home and screamed at me until you lost your voice. You could have demolished this entire house. You could have done anything you wanted. But you chose to leave. Now, let me leave.”
His eyes started to gloss with tears. His large arms stayed by his sides, and he made fists with both hands, like he wanted to fight until his last breath. But defeat was in his veins. He knew there was nothing he could do to stop this. Love wouldn’t be enough to fix this…not this time. He finally stepped to the side.
When the pathway was clear, I moved forward. I marched down the hallway, ready to leave that house and move on with my life. It used to be full of so many memories, but now those memories had been torched by his betrayal. I used to believe there was so much here, that we had something special, but now I realized that was all a lie.
We were never special.
I got a room at the Tuscan Rose and camped out there for a few days. I didn’t go to work, but I didn’t need to explain why. Sofia must have learned everything from Damien because she texted me.
Take all the time you need. Your desk will be here when you’re ready.
I was so lucky to have a boss like her.
But I wasn’t lucky to be me right now.
I ordered room service for all my meals and charged everything to Liam’s account. He left me alone for the first few days, but then his impatience got to him and he started to text me.
Baby, please talk to me.
Anna?
I know I fucked up…but we can fix it.
I got so angry about that last message I blocked his number altogether. I didn’t have a concrete plan at the moment. I’d have to find a divorce lawyer to finalize the paperwork. Then I’d have to find a place to live and figure out the financial situation with Liam. But for now, I’d rather watch movies and cry into a pile of tissues.
Sometimes, I was so heartbroken by what he did that I got lost in my tears. At other times, I told myself that he wasn’t worth my tears, that he only deserved my hostility and indifference. But then the cycle would repeat over and over.
A knock sounded at my door.
Liam was too stupid to figure out where I was, so I suspected it was Damien. I’d expected him to come sooner, but he probably understood I needed my space, that there was nothing he could do for me right now.
In sweats and a t-shirt with a tear-stained face, I opened the door without even looking who was on the other side.
It was Damien. In a black t-shirt and jeans, he stood with his hands in his pockets, his eyes focused on mine like they had a story to tell. They shifted back and forth as they continued to examine me, wanting to see me smile rather than frown.
Wordlessly, I walked to the couch near the TV and took a seat. I pulled my knees to my chest and watched the screen even though I hadn’t been watching it minutes ago. My arms circled my knees.
Damien stared at me for a while before he joined me on the couch. He kept his distance by allowing a few feet to remain between us. He glanced at the TV. “What are you watching?”
“Not sure. I haven’t been paying attention.”
He watched it for a few minutes. “This is that new film with Robert De Niro.” He snapped his fingers. “Can’t remember what it’s called…the Scotsman?”
“The Irishman,” I corrected.
He nodded. “I’ve been meaning to see it.” With one arm on the armrest, he watched the screen casually, like he hadn’t told me my husband had cheated just a few days ago.
