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He rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not. She’s not good for me. Obviously.” He gestures at his chin, which is already starting to swell.
“Do you want me to get you something for that?”
When he shakes his head, I sigh. “If it’s any consolation, I also love a woman who’s not good for me.”
He stares at me for a long moment. “Your wife.”
I nod, and he frowns.
“Why do you do it?” he asks. He doesn’t have to say any more. I know exactly what he means. Why do I constantly seek solace in the arms of other women when that perfect woman is my wife?
“Like I told Lauren,” I say, “my relationship with my wife is complicated. Whitney knows I see other women.”
He narrows his eyes on my face. “Does she see other men?”
Ice shoots through my veins as Jason’s pretty face flashes in my mind. How could that spineless piece of shit hold my wife’s heart? The day I showed up on his doorstep and knocked him to the ground with one punch told me everything I needed to know about him. He said he was so sorry, that he’d never meant to hurt anyone. When I made him promise never to go near her again, he consented readily.
What a twat. If I had Whitney’s love, I’d never let a jealous husband stand in my way, however murderous he was. I’d die to keep her.
“Not anymore,” I say. “But she did.”
“I see.” Camden smirks. “Men your age are strange. Why don’t you just divorce her?”
I huff. “It’s not men my age. It’s me. I should divorce her, but…” I exhale a heavy breath. “But I can’t. I can’t let her go.”
He nods slowly. “I understand. I really do… Fuck.” He flinches. “This can’t go on forever. I have to get over this.”
“I wish I had good news for you, but I was about your age when I met Whitney.”
He shakes his head. “It’s been much longer for me. I’ve been obsessed with Lauren since I was a kid.”
A chuckle erupts from my chest. “You’re definitely fucked.”
“Probably.” He stares unseeing at the calendar on my desk. “I don’t even know why I cared so much about what she did with you. What difference does it make if she’s fucking a married man? I sometimes just…lose my mind when it comes to her.”
“I know what you mean,” I say. “I know I should stop fucking twenty-two-year-old women. I’ve been punishing my wife for so long…” I shake my head. “It’s honestly pathetic.”
Camden frowns and stares at me for a long moment. “You can’t stop thinking about it, huh?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“You can’t stop thinking about…what she did.”
The memory washes over me. Its effects are sensory at first. That tingling heat over my skin and coldness in my gut. Then the words drift into my mind.
My love for you has never wavered.
Nothing she could do could ever be enough. Her pain could never match mine, no matter how many years I keep doing this.
“No,” I say. “I can’t.”
Camden leaves shortly after, and that dull warmth of whiskey makes my hands itch to pull out that printed-out email hidden in my desk. I open the drawer, and in a moment, it’s unfolded in front of me.
I have a confession to make. I shouldn’t be saying this. This whole exchange is wrong. I’m married. I shouldn’t be rekindling a friendship with the man who broke my heart.
But since we’ve reconnected, it’s on my mind. In some of our phone conversations, I’ve felt myself on the verge of saying it. What does it matter now if I tell you? I’ve already betrayed Mark. I already hate myself. So here it goes…
Jason, I’ve thought about you every day for the last six years. Even in the moments when I’ve been happiest with Mark, I couldn’t help but wonder how it would have been with you. What kind of father would you be? What would it be like to grow old with you?
