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I didn’t want her there when I faced Francesca. She did not deserve to see that ugly side of me.
“For how long?” Sterling grinned, flinging dresses and stockings into the open suitcase on her bed.
As far as she was concerned, everything was still dandy between me and my wife. She probably thought we were planning a fuck-fest over every surface of the house.
I glanced at my Rolex.
Two, maybe three years.
“A couple of days. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
Whenever my lawful wife takes her head out of her ass.
“Wonderful! You have fun, lovebirds.”
“Count on it.”
Calling her when she was with her lover in a hotel room would be redundant. And hysterical. No. I sat on my wife’s bed the remainder of the afternoon, replaying last night in my head.
Aunt Flo my ass. She didn’t get her period. She didn’t want my dick inside her body, probably because she was too busy nurturing an affair with her college buddy.
I was consumed by guilt and self-hatred after the night I’d taken her here, on this bed, thinking that she’d spread her legs to Angelo.
But really, my only error was chronological. Because she might have been a virgin when I took her that first time, but that public kiss she had shared with him?
It was as real as ours, if not more.
She cheated on me with the man she’d loved since she was in diapers.
And I was the idiot who kept on taking her after all their discriminating evidence.
The Bishop’s wedding.
The engagement party.
The kiss.
No more.
I heard the door downstairs open some hours after I arrived. My wife always took off her shoes and arranged them neatly by the door before taking a glass of water from the kitchen and going upstairs.
Today was no different. With the exception that when she climbed up the stairs and got into her bedroom, she found me sitting on her bed, holding my phone in my hand, the screen lit and showcasing her kissing Angelo.
Her glass slipped from between her fingers, hitting the floor. She turned around, about to run away.
I stood up.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Nemesis.” My voice dripped ice and menace.
She stopped in her tracks, her back to me, her shoulders sagging, but her head was still high.
“Do what?” she asked.
“Turn your back on me when I’m in my current state.”
“And why is that? Are you going to stab me?” She twisted on her heel, her azure eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
She was brave, but she was emotional. I mistook all her tears for weakness. No more. Francesca was definitely in the habit of going for what she wanted in life.
