Page 32

A week ago, I had to pick out my husband’s casket and was barely able to keep my grief under control or what my life was about to become. Now look at me. At a bar, with his mistress, and drinking tequila like it’s fucking water.
“Where’d Remi go?” Sadie takes the shot in her hand, tips her head back, and downs it.
“I don’t know.” I sigh, nervousness working through me. I down the shot in front of me, too, having no idea who brought them to us and then slam it back down onto the wooden table. It makes a ping against my wedding ring. It’s then I realize I haven’t taken the damn thing off. “You know the worst part?” I stare at the ring as if I’m talking to it and then lift my eyes to Sadie and Nahla.
“Are you talking to us or your ring?” Nahla giggles. She’s a giggly drunk. Laughs at everything. It’s such a change from her usual hard demeanor that I always wonder what her true personality is. My dad once told me you can tell a lot about a person when they’re drunk because it takes down their shield they have up.
“I can’t ask him anything. I’ll never get to look him in the eye and make him tell me why the life we built together meant so little to him that he had to fuck another woman. For a year! That’s not even a ‘whoops, sorry, honey, it just happened. I was drunk one night, and she fell into my lap. My dick sprung up into her vagina. I had no choice.’”
“I’m sure that’s not how it happens,” Nahla points out. “Ever.”
“Whatever.” I wave my hand around, smack Nahla in the face in the process, and continue my rant. “They had a relationship. That shit was intentional. It’s worse than him not paying our bills. I’m… sick. Physically fucking sick that I didn’t see it and let that man manipulate me for ten years.”
Sadie throws her arm around me. “I could have told you he was a manipulative asshole when he wouldn’t let me live with you. He didn’t want me knowing what the fuck was up with him because you bet your ass I would have uncovered it.”
Nahla leans forward, her tits pressed against the table and her shot of tequila on her white blouse. She missed her mouth. “It’s weird that Remi came with us, isn’t it?”
I slap my hand on the table again. “What’s weird is that you know her.” I point at Sadie. “And didn’t realize she was fucking Collin.”
“Okay, hold up.” Her posture straightens, and her brows pull together. “Don’t blame me. I barely go to that class, and I’ve seen her maybe a handful of times. And Ineverhad a conversation with her.”
My shoulders slump forward, and I have to adjust the waistband of my jeans because they’re digging into my belly button. “How did she know where we lived?”
Sadie leans in, trying to talk over the live music. “She said her friend Audrey told her.”
“Audrey Hanley?” My breath catches, and I stare beady-eyed at my sister. Of all the fucking fucks.
“I don’t know….” Her voice trails off, and the realization hits her too.
“Your nanny?” Nahla asks, joining the conversation.
“You mean my ex-nanny. She quit last month, remember?”
Sadie slurps a drink a guy handed her. No question as to what’s in it. Just thanks the dude and starts drinking it. Children. “Oh my God. What if Collin was fucking her too?”
Nahla takes the drink from Sadie. “You don’t even know what’s in that. And stop talking like that. I’m sure he wasn’t fucking the nanny too.”
“Well, you don’t know.” Sadie attempts to retrieve her drink. My sister, she’s completely enthralled with drama. “We didn’t know he was humping Remi until she showed up.”
Sadie’s a psychology major but always wanted to be a detective. Seeing how she never attends class and has very little motivation outside of a drummer’s cock, my little blue-haired sister is stuck investigating the lives of others. Which, to her defense, is probably exactly why Collin wouldn’t let her move into the room above our garage. He didn’t want her knowing his shady as shit schedule.
“He could have a string of women we don’t know about.” Sadie gasps at her profound discovery. “And they’re just going to keep showing up at your door.”
“Okay, stop.” Nahla covers Sadie’s mouth. “You’re freaking her out even more.”
Nausea rolls through me. I can’t hear any more of this. I need to be drunk—black-out drunk. Most women might want to get even after they find out their husband had been cheating on them. I didn’t want to even the score, but I do want to get drunk and forget.
“I’m going to get a drink.”