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Hunter may suspect something is wrong, but he doesn’t realize how wrong it is. For now, I prefer to keep it that way.
The time I’ve spent in my office the last two days hasn’t been for nothing. I’ve used the time to type up all the feelings I’ve felt since discovering the panties. I have over five pages filled.
That’s what I’m doing when I feel his presence enter the room. Stealing myself, I look across the room at the door. Hunter stands there, leaning against the door frame. His expression is intense, as if he’s thinking about something important.
“I have to go to Slate to take care of something,” he says, moving away from the door and walking toward me. He rounds my desk and slides a hand through my hair to the back of my head, gently pulling it back. “I’ll be gone a couple of hours.”
He’s lying. As good as Hunter knows me, I know him just as well.
“Okay,” I reply, trying hard not to reveal the boulder in my throat.
He’s going to see her.
Scarlett.
He’s leaving me to sleep with another woman. I recognize the look on his face. It’s filled with guilt.
He bends over and gently presses his lips against mine. I close my eyes. Nausea rolls in my stomach, knowing he’ll soon be using those same lips onher.
“I love you.”
I don’t know how I do it, but I manage to repeat his words without breaking down. “I love you.”
His beautiful gaze, with a frown between them, lingers on me a moment longer before he turns and leaves the room.
My eyes sting and my throat convulses, threatening to drag me into a dark hole I’ll never escape. I force myself out of my chair. I feel numb as I walk out of my office. I rush to grab my purse and keys as soon as the front door closes. I’m in such a hurry, I almost forget to disengage the alarm system. That would be just my luck. Getting caught by the alarm going off when I’m trying to be sneaky and follow my husband to his lover’s house to confront them both.
After Hunter pulls out of the driveway, I rush to my car.
I must be stupid to do this. I’m asking for my heart to be shredded and handed to me on a platter by following him. I’m hoping against all hope that I’m wrong. That he really does have a legitimate excuse for having another woman’s panties in his pocket.
If he heads to Slate as he said, I’ll turn around and leave and wait for him to come home to ask about the panties. But if he goes somewhere else like I believe he is, then I need to see for myself. Maybe I’m a closeted masochist, wanting to feel the pain of seeing him with another woman. Maybe seeing it will turn that pain into anger, and I won’t hurt anymore. If I see it first hand, there’s no way he can explain it away.
I creep along behind Hunter’s SUV, staying far enough back that he won’t see me. My hands shake as I grip the steering wheel. When he makes a left at a green light instead of a right, my stomach drops. A right turn would have taken him to Slate.
I blink back tears and ignore the hollow sensation in my chest. After a few minutes, Hunter pulls up in front of a two-story home. I stop a few houses away and watch him as he gets out of the vehicle. He doesn’t even look around as he walks out of view, heading into the house.
I bite the inside of my cheek until the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth. I take a deep breath of courage and let it go as I step out of my car. Besides Hunter’s black SUV, there are no other vehicles in the driveway.
As I walk up the steps, my whole body shakes.
I’m a glutton for punishment as I go to the front door and check the doorknob, half hoping it won’t turn, and I’ll be forced to leave. I’m not sure whether luck is on my side or against me when it turns.
I stand there for a solid minute, the brass knob in my hand, but not pushing the door open.
Can I really do this? Do I really want to see the woman who may have broken up my marriage and stolen my husband? Do I want to witness Hunter touching someone other than me? To take the chance of walking in while they are in the middle of….
I close my eyes and shake my head. I have to do this. Ineedto. This is the only way I can be sure I’m getting the truth.
I cringe as I slowly open the door, thankful it doesn’t make a sound. I close it just as quietly behind me and turn to face the room. It’s not really a room, but a small entryway with a wall directly in front of me. I keep my steps silent when I round the wall and step into the living room. Surprise flickers through me when I notice the sparse furnishings. There is only one coffee table and one loveseat against one wall of the large room.
Leaving the room, I walk out through a double doorway. There’s another hallway to the right, which appears to lead to the dining room and kitchen. On the left are stairs. My feet instinctively lead me to the stairs, knowing Hunter and Scarlett will be found on the second floor.
Halfway up the stairs, I force my legs to keep moving forward rather than running back out the front door. I don’t want to be here. I want to rewind back to three days ago when I thought my life with Hunter was perfect.
No sound comes from the second floor, which I find intimidating and worrisome. As I reach the top of the stairs, I turn right, again, something compels me to go that way. There are no windows in the hall and the lights are off, so it’s quite dark. At the end of the hall a door is cracked open, leaving a strip of light on the hardwood floor.
Despite not making a sound, I half expect Hunter to come barreling out of the room because my screams to leave seem so loud in my head.
