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I love you, Bailey. With all my heart.
I’m making us dinner. What do you want?
I love you and I’m so sorry I hurt you.
Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, and in a fit of frustration, powered down my phone. I’ve gone from hardly ever hearing from him to this constant barrage, and I just needed a minute to think.
I’ve been forced to become used to an empty apartment when I come home, and now that it’s not, I’m annoyed. No, annoyed is not a strong enough word for how I’m feeling.
I craved coming home to my husband and having a normal evening of cooking dinner together and settling down in front of the TV. Mundane things, things that should be normal for a couple. But now that he’s here, I want him gone.
I feel his eyes on me the moment I step through the door. I take my time putting my bag and keys down and taking off my shoes. It’s only once I’ve straightened that I meet his eyes, and once again, it’s like looking at a stranger. He looks a little less wrecked than this morning. He must have pulled a brush through his hair at some stage, and his business suit has been replaced by jeans and a T-shirt.
He must have gone out at some point because there’s a bouquet of my favorite flowers—a mixture of lavender lilies and carnations—on the counter, next to a bottle of wine.White wine.
I wonder if he bought his girlfriend flowers to apologize. Maybe some buy-one-get-one-free kind of deal.
Smells of garlic drift through the air, and knowing Quinn’s limited cooking skills, I know it’s pasta of some sort.
All I’m interested in is his words. Not flowers, wine, or whatever he’s prepared for dinner.
“So…” I say, sitting in the stuffed chair, leaving him no option but to settle on the couch. Space from him and what he’s about to say is what I need right now. “You wanted to talk, so talk,” I say, my voice calm. I’m exhausted, and it’s as if all that anger and pain I felt last night and this morning has fizzled into nothing, leaving me numb.
He sits down and blows out a deep breath.
“I don’t know where to start,” he says.
“The beginning would be a good place.”
“Before I do, I just want you to know that I love you and only you.”
“Yes. I really felt your love last night. When you were having a meal with another woman on our anniversary.”
“I’m so sorry I forgot,” he mumbles, misery coating every word.
“Quinn, just tell me. Who is she?”
“She…” He hesitates, searching for the right words, so I help him out.
“Justine.”
“Yeah. She’s an intern who joined my team a few months ago.”
“I remember you mentioning her. She messaged you one morning,” I add when he looks confused. “You were upset that Phillip hired her. I guess you didn’t stay that way for long, huh?”
“It’s not what you think, Bailey.”
“You’ve said that. What is it then that I’m thinking?”
“I’m not having an affair with her.”
I lift my brow because how stupid does he think I am? Naive, yes, a thousand times, yes, but stupid. No.
“I’m not,” he denies hotly, leaning forward as if he needs not only his words but his whole body to convince me of his words.
“Okay then.” I laugh, standing up. “I’m so glad you cleared that up for me,” I say, sarcasm dripping off my every word.
“Bailey, you said you’ll let me talk.”
