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“I’m sorry, Chelsea,” I said, sitting down on the bed.
Chelsea looked shocked, her fake lashes blinking rapidly. “What are you apologizing for?”
“This fucking mess of a marriage,” I said sadly.
Chelsea crawled over to me, but she didn’t try touching me. For once, she seemed off balance. “That’s why my attorney suggested counseling—”
I looked at her. Really looked at her. She was selfish and shallow and downright cruel. But that didn’t mean she deserved all of my ire. I was just as responsible for the situation as she was. “You never loved me, Chelsea. Don’t pretend you did. This marriage has never been about love. It’s been about convenience. You wanted an image, and I wanted someone to help me forget.”
Chelsea frowned and pursed her lips. “I loved you, Adam. I do love you.”
“You love my money. And that’s cool. Just be honest with yourself,” I countered. Chelsea looked away, not denying it. The silence was the most honest thing she ever said.
“It was tiring trying to compete with her all the time, you know,” Chelsea said finally. Her voice had lost its affected trill. She wasn’t trying to seduce me or manipulate me. It was a nice change.
“I didn’t realize you felt you were competing with anyone,” I said truthfully.
Chelsea snorted inelegantly. “Come on. You think I didn’t know that you always wanted Two-Backed—” I glared at her, and she grimaced. “Sorry, Meghan. The two of you were ridiculous. Everyone knew that you two were into each other, except you two.”
“So why did you want to be with me?” I asked, confused.
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Because you’re Adam Ducate. Every girl wanted you. I wanted what they couldn’t have. It’s a hell of an ego boost to lay claim to the boy everyone thought was unattainable.”
I didn’t know whether to be insulted or not. I chose not to be. It didn’t matter.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. It felt like the only thing I could say.
Chelsea shrugged. “I knew the bed I was lying in. And we had some good times, didn’t we?” She sounded so young, so vulnerable. I didn’t know this Chelsea. She wasn’t completely horrible.
“We did,” I agreed because she was right. It wasn’t all bad. Just most of it.
We sat there together, neither of us talking, taking a moment to process the ending of a decade together.
“No counseling, Chelsea. We both need to move on. You can have the timeshare in Aspen, but the lake house is mine.”
Chelsea wiped her eyes. “No counseling. I’ll sign the papers in the morning.” She stood up and puffed up her hair, putting a hand on her hip. “I don’t need to hold onto a man that doesn’t want me. There’s bigger and better fish than Adam Ducate.”
I smiled, and she smiled back. I didn’t take offense at her statement. We were past that.
“You’ll land a fucking whale, no doubt.” I laughed, and she laughed too.
I followed her downstairs and handed her the coat she had left draped over the couch. I had to turn off the Beiber before I started throwing things.
Chelsea slung her designer bag over her shoulders and paused by the door. “I should let you know that Meg came by.”
I drew up short, every muscle freezing. “What?”
Chelsea winced. “I answered the door—”
“Dressed like that?” I demanded.
Chelsea nodded. “She wasn’t happy.” I could only imagine what she thought. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “I’m sorry for messing it up for you, Adam.” For the first time, she sounded sincere. It was a strange look on her.
I sighed and grabbed my keys. “If things are messed up, it’s not about you, Chelsea.” And it was true. The issues between Meg and me were deeper than that. Trust was a hard thing to rebuild once it had been broken. I only hoped Meg would let me try to put it back together.
I stepped out onto the porch and saw two bottles of champagne propped against the side of the house. A piece of paper stuck out beneath one of the bottles.
I picked it up and read the words, my blood running cold.
It’s never going to be you and me. Thank you for showing me the truth.
Meg
It was too late.
God, it was too late.
I felt my world crumble into a thousand pieces.
**
It had been two days since everything fell apart. Meg wouldn’t speak to me, and I had given up trying to make her. We had been on the cusp of something great, and she threw it all away over a misunderstanding. But could I honestly pretend that Chelsea was the source of the problem? No. It went deeper than that. And the only one who could fix it was Meghan.
I missed her. I ached for her. I felt fucking incomplete without her. I picked up my phone a hundred times to text her, to call her. I was going half out of my mind.
