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Physically, they were identical, but they could not be more different as far as their personalities were concerned.
Allison was egotistic and obnoxious. She was flirty and loud, dressing sexy in clothes that left nothing to the imagination.
Addison was quiet and giving. She was soft-spoken and caring. She had worn the sweetest sundress in Bora Bora and had been super uncomfortable in a bikini on the beach.
Then I remembered the cotton panties. Allison would have never worn them, but Addison was sweet and made for cotton instead of silk and lace. My mind flashed back through all the times we had slept together, and I was sure it had been with Addison every time. With the exception of the one time Allison had been there and asked me to wear a condom.
I knew it.
I knew all of it.
Had I married Addison instead of Allison?
I was sure it had been Allison at the wedding, but I really had no way to know. I thought back to our wedding day and her shaking hands in mine when we said our vows. I thought of her quiet contentment at the reception. She had even danced with my cousin who was known to talk too much and annoy the hell out of everyone else. Not Addison. She had smiled up at him and patiently listened as he stumbled over his words.
It had even been her at the wedding. I was sure of it.
Leaving the bedroom, I went to my office and opened the safe where I kept my valuables. Inside was an envelope and inside that envelope was our marriage license. I opened it and pulled the license out, and when I looked down at our two signatures, I gasped when I saw the name Addison had written in perfect cursive across the signature line.
She had signed her own name.
I was married to Addison, not Allison.
The realization was like a ton of bricks on my chest. I fell onto the couch in my office and put my head between my knees in an attempt to stop the dizziness.
How could I have been so blind?
Even though rage was slowly building inside me, I let her sleep. I was unsure of how I was going to tell her I knew the truth, but the longer I sat and stewed, the angrier I got. I found myself cleaning and trying to find things to do to keep myself busy. When my stomach started to rumble with hunger, I stopped and started making breakfast for us.
I was turning off the stove and making our plates when she came into the kitchen with a worried look on her face.
“Someone slept well last night,” I said, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.
She stepped up to the center island and put her head down as if she couldn’t bear to look at me. I wanted to scream at her—ask her why and make her tell me everything—but I swallowed down my rage and let my patience take its place.
“I didn’t mean to sleep that hard. Your bed … our bed is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in.”
I chuckled sarcastically, hearing her slip. How many times had she slipped up around me, and I was just too fucking stupid to notice?
“Yeah, I’m sure you meant to sneak out before I woke like last time.”
Her eyes flashed in my direction, and I could see the spark of anger igniting behind her blue eyes. Still, she remained calm. She was probably trying to think of a way to get out of there without being rude. I imagined her little brain smoking as she tried to think of the reason she needed to run out real quick.
“Exactly how many times are you planning on sneaking into my house and fucking me, Addison?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that. I just ….” She paused, and I saw the moment realization hit her.
Her eyes went wide, and her breath halted.
I had said her name, and she realized she was as good as caught.
She looked so timid and insecure, but I no longer knew if she was playing me or not. Was it all a ruse? She backed away from the island, and my eyes dipped to her tiny bump of a belly.
Was the baby mine?
Had she been with other people?
A wave of possession rolled over me, and again anger roared through me. I tossed my spatula in the sink and turned to face her with my hands on my hips.
