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He takes us through the kitchen until we reach an office with a desk covered with two large computer monitors. Reality strikes me when Cohen sits in the chair by the desk.
Cohen is showing me the evidence of Devin cheating.
I’m not prepared for this.
I stay in the doorway, watching Cohen punch a few buttons on the keyboard and turn to Maliki, a curious look on his face.
“You sure she wants to see this?” he asks.
“She needs to,” Maliki replies.
I hold up my hand. “Uh,sheis standing right here.”
Cohen only nods and puts his attention back to the computer.
Maliki curls his arm over my shoulders and steers me to stand behind Cohen. I gulp and resist the urge to shut my eyes.
This has to happen.
When Cohen pulls up the bar’s camera footage, I immediately spot Devin. My belly knots with panic while I watch him take shots with friends. Then, he’s talking to a woman at the bar, and he buys her a drink. My hands curl and press against my stomach. I recite two quick prayers—the first that I’m not about to see my husband cheat and the other that I don’t vomit on Cohen’s head.
I grip the back of the chair and tense when Devin turns stupid.
Oh, this motherfucker.
He grabs the woman’s hand and takes her to the restroom. Even though Cohen speeds up the time, I’m aware of how much has passed. Fifteen minutes later, I watch my husband exit the restroom, buckling his pants, with the woman lagging behind him.
“That motherfucking asshole,” I bite out. “And that two-faced tramp.”
Cohen drops his head back to look at me. “You know her?”
“She was a sorority sister. Louise.” My attention shifts to Maliki. “The bitch who asked you for Buttery Nipples on my birthday.”
“Never trust a chick who drinks Buttery Nipples,” Cohen comments.
I never got along with Louise. One night, Devin drunkenly confessed she’d slid into his DMs during one of ourbreaksbut swore he’d ignored it. I doubt that now.
I bury my face in my hands. “Well, if this isn’t humiliating.”
“For him,” Maliki says, gently squeezing my shoulders. “Not you.”
I twist out of his hold to face him. “Why?” My voice shakes. “Why did you show me this?”
I move when Cohen wheels his chair away from the desk and springs to his feet.
“I’ll leave you two to do whatever,” he says.
I wait until Cohen disappears through the doorway before speaking.
My chin trembles.
Don’t cry.
Don’t you dare cry.
“Why?” I ask again, fighting to keep my voice calm.
Maliki raises his hands next to his head in a mind-blown motion. “Are you shitting me? What did you expect me to do? Sit back in my chair at the back of the bar and let him fuck around on you?”
