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Chelsea got off on admiration the way some people got off on drugs, or porn, or alcohol. She was addicted to making people want her. And it wasn’t hard; she was a man’s wet dream with lips that were full and perfect, particularly wrapped around a cock, and an hourglass frame that was all soft sensual curves and slim lines.
But she was a selfish woman, and when I had wanted to start a family, she had promised to go off her birth control and really try for a baby. I thought she had finally matured, that she was becoming the woman I had convinced myself she could be.
I was a complete moron.
Because of course, she lied. It was second nature to a woman like Chelsea. As natural as breathing. She had no intention of getting pregnant. It would have ruined her carefully crafted figure, after all. Instead of going off the pill, she had gotten the Depo-Provero shot, ensuring we couldn’t become parents, and she had played the disappointment card convincingly every month when she took another test that came up negative. I’d console her as the tears dripped artfully down her cheeks. I’d hold her as she sobbed in my arms, thinking that maybe having a son or daughter wasn’t meant to be.
All the while, she was sleeping with most of the men in the neighborhood—excluding old Mr. Winston, who at eighty-six could barely walk. Though I honestly wouldn’t have put it past Chelsea to give it the good ol’ college try.
The worst part was that I hadn’t been particularly surprised. I had been angry, sure, but any hurt I would have felt faded along with any semblance of genuine affection I had for her. Deep down, I had always known what sort of woman I had married. Even when she played the part of dutiful wife and loving partner, I had seen through the facade. I had just gotten entirely too adept at ignoring my better judgment because a huge part of me had held onto the dream of two point four kids and the white picket fence all the while she spent my money and made me look like the world’s most idiotic husband.
It was my own fault for being so stubbornly blind to her many faults. I should have known better—hell, Ididknow better—but I had been told my entire life that I only saw the best in people. It was one of my more annoying traits. But that ship had sailed when it came to Chelsea. There wasn’t much good about the woman I had sworn to love for better or for worse.
I climbed off the bed and pulled on the pair of pajama bottoms I had thrown on the floor that morning. I hadn’t planned to screw my manipulative wife when I woke up. I was irritated with myself for how easily I fell back into self-destructive patterns where she was concerned.
She had shown up just as I was leaving for work, saying she wanted to talk with tears in her eyes and her full lower lip jutting out in a miserable pout.
I shouldn’t have let her in. I should have told her to call instead of simply showing up at my doorstep.
I had to stop listening to my dick. He was the biggest dumbass on the planet.
“You need to leave, Chels. I’m late for work, and I have a meeting in thirty minutes.” I couldn’t look at her, mostly because after the sex haze had dissipated, the sight of her turned my stomach.
Chelsea got up on her knees, crawling across the bed until she was in front of me. She slithered her hand into my pants, gripping me tightly. I was mortified by the automatic twinge that signified the beginning of a hard-on. “Don’t be like that, baby. Call in sick, come back to bed. I can make it worth your while.” She kissed my chest, sliding her tongue downward before taking the hem of my pants between her teeth and giving them a tug.
I gripped her upper arms and pulled her upright, gently pushing her away from me. She landed on her bottom, her eyes widening in surprise. She wasn’t used to being denied anything. “You need to go, Chelsea. This was a mistake that definitely won’t happen again. Call it a lapse in judgment. If you want to get your rocks off, go call Eddie, or Miles, or whatever other poor, pitiful schmuck you’ve seduced into your bed this week.”
I turned away from her and headed to the walk-in closet, pulling a new shirt and trousers off hangers now that the ones I had been wearing were in a crumpled heap on the floor.
Of course, she didn’t leave. That would require her to do something thoughtful for someone else, which was simply not coded into her DNA.
I heard her follow me into the closet and tensed when she snaked her arms around my waist, pressing the length of her naked body against me. “Adam, don’t be like this. I said I was sorry. What more do you want?”
I moved deftly out of her embrace, recoiling at the touch of her skin on mine. I turned to face her, glaring into her large, blue eyes that were the result of contacts, not genetics. Everything about her was carefully manufactured. From her thin, straight nose, to her sculpted chin. She had hacked and tucked so much that it was hard to remember what she had looked like before.
“I’d like to go back in time and stop myself from ever leaving the Homecoming dance with you in the first place,” I spat at her hatefully, meaning every single word.
A normal person would have been hurt by my deliberate low blow. Not Chelsea. It slid off her like water off a duck’s back. She was never bothered by the emotions or feelings of other people. She was the kind that got by on looks alone. I was infinitely disappointed in myself at how easily I fell into her void, how I thought having mind-blowing sex was all it took to create a lasting relationship. It was a classic example of teenage decision-making at its worst.
Inexperienced lust was a very dangerous thing.
“Don’t be so testy, Adam. I know you miss me.” She rubbed me through the thin material of my pajamas, cupping my balls. Stroking me with expert fingers. And damned if a part of me didn’t want to give in. To bend her over and bury myself deep inside her, I was a guy after all. And my healthy sex drive was proving cumbersome at the moment.
Like I said, fucking was the easy part.
It was the bullshit that came afterward that I wasn’t prepared to deal with any longer.
I moved away from her, forcing her to release me. “Leave, Chelsea. If you have something you need to talk about, text me. Don’t stop by for unannounced visits. Better yet, if you need something face to face, call the office, and Lena will set up an appointment.” I gathered her clothes off the floor and all but threw them at her. “Now get dressed and get the hell out of my house.”
Because it wasmyhouse. Not Chelsea’s. I had designed it my goddamn self. I made sure she would never be allowed to enjoy the fruits of my hard-earned labor.
Chelsea, finally realizing she couldn’t beguile me with her hands and mouth, switched the script. Tears filled her eyes as she hastily pulled her dress down over her head. She looked up at me through her thick, very fake lashes. She was a damn good actress; I’d give her that. Anyone else would have thought her heart was broken.
But I knew that was impossible. The bitch didn’t have a heart.
“I just want to make this right, Adam. I love you. You love me. We’ve built a life together. How can you throw all that away as if it means nothing?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Her audaciousness was hysterical. I gripped her arm, careful not to hurt her—I didn’t abuse women; I wasn’t a monster—and walked her out of my bedroom, down the long, winding staircase, and to the front door. She sniffed dramatically the entire way, wiping tears from her eyes as if they meant something.
I reached down and picked up the high heels she had kicked off when she arrived, handed them to her, and opened the front door, maneuvering her out onto the porch.
“Aren’t you going to say something, Adam?” she demanded angrily when I wouldn’t respond.
I looked my soon to be ex-wife in the eye and thanked God that I had woken up. There was nothing genuine about her. Not her tears. Not her words. Not even her body. Everything was molded and shaped to seduce and machinate. Why had it taken me so long to see it?
Meg warned me. They all had. Why hadn’t I listened?
Suddenly I was so very tired. I couldn’t summon the energy to even be angry. “Goodbye, Chelsea,” I said and shut the door in her face before she could say anything else.
