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With that, I walk away and leave him standing there to watch me have what he never will.
He’s pissed off.Why? I have no idea. But he’s been walking around here like he’s constantly on edge. At first, I thought it had something to do with the double date the other night, but Mali helped me realize he was fine that night. It wasn’t until the next morning that he started acting strangely. And every time I ask him about it, he claims he’s fine.
Long story short; my husband has become a PMS-ing preteen.
I’m standing in the bathroom, curling my hair, when he comes into the bedroom. He stops and lets his eyes rake over me, but the part of me that hopes he likes it gets crushed as he huffs, shaking his head.
“What’s your problem lately?” I ask, finally having enough of his attitude.
He leans against the doorway. “I don’t know, Lai. Why don’t you tell me where you got the dress?”
Oh, this should be fun.“It was sent over.”
“Moneybags is buying you shit now?”
“No,” I say sternly. “This is from the designer and will go back to them after the gala tonight. I’m essentially a walking billboard. I mentioned in our group chat that I had nothing to wear, and Monty connected me with someone who arranges for outfits to be modeled at these events.”
He scoffs. “You’re in a group chat with your best friend and her boyfriend? And you don’t find that weird?”
“Maybe, if I had met him because she’s dating him, but it was created long before they became a thing.”
There’s clearly no reasoning with him as he turns around and goes to lie on our bed—though calling it that right now might be a bit of a stretch. Lately, he’s been avoiding me by working on the bar so late that I’m asleep by the time he gets home.
My brows furrow as I look at the time, noting we have to leave in thirty minutes, and he isn’t even showered yet.
“Aren’t you going to get ready?” I question.
He doesn’t look up from his phone. “No, because I’m not going.”
My jaw drops. “Seriously?”
“Don’t act like you’re surprised,” he tells me. “You’ve known all week I wasn’t going to end up going to that hoity-toity bullshit.”
“No, I didn’t, because you haven’t talked to me in days. Not really, anyway.” I feel like I’m on the verge of breaking. “Why aren’t you coming?”
“Because it’s not my world! And it’s not yours either, no matter how much you may want it to be.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He tosses his phone on the bed. “Oh, don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t!” I shout.
“You don’t.” He repeats sarcastically. “Really? That’s hilarious, because you couldn’t seem to stop talking about the fact that we got married, but magically, the one person in all of Calder fucking Bay who didn’t know was Monty.”
This can’t be happening. If I had known he was going to freak out over who knows about our wedding and who doesn’t, I would’ve screamed it from the rooftops. Had it written in the damn sky, even. But I never thought he was the kind of person to worry about that—not after he keptmea secret for the first couple months.
It’s not even like I intentionally didn’t tell Monty. The only time I’ve been around him since our wedding was the day I found out about him and Mali. Needless to say, that was a little distracting. But before I can tell him that, he smirks like his next words are meant to cause pain.
And they do.
“Why didn’t you tell him, Lai?” He presses. “Wanted to keep your options open?”
It feels like he just punched me full force in the stomach. Then again, that would probably be preferable. It would hurt less. Tears spring to my eyes. I don’t know who the guy standing in front of me is, but it’s not the Hayes that I married.
“Fuck you,” I hiss.
If he still thinks that he’s not the only guy I’ve basicallyeverwanted, that’s his problem. I’m not about to stand here and let him berate me over it. I turn around and head for the door.
