Page 46

Chapter Forty-Five

Austen

The rain is steady, my windshield wipers clearing the drops only just in time for more to spread.

I’ve been driving for hours, unsure of where I’m going. Cam kept calling, so I shut my phone off because I was too tempted to pick it up. I can’t deal with him right now.

He lied to me. What else has he lied to me about?

Were we… were we a lie, too? Was the best eleven days of my life a lie?

I don’t want to think so. My heart aches not to think so, but I just don’t know anything right now. My mind is swimming, viciously tainting all those perfect memories.

I should have left sooner, I know that. I was only supposed to stay for a few days, but I kept up the ruse, too. I didn’t want to leave and come home to my wife because I knew I’d have to go back to my life.

To my wife who hates me and has fucking cheated on me.

All I ever wanted was the same things everyone else wanted for me.

So why does it feel like everything I wanted is a lie?

Because it is, I realize.

I’ve spent so many years trying to be the perfect husband, trying to have the perfect life. But I don’t fit the role. And neither does Savannah.

At least I tried, right? That has to count for something.

I pursued her. I stowed my desires and wants and needs, in favor of making her happy.

And she cheated on me. God, I really am a fool.

The singer on the radio croons on about loving someone who’s a losing game, and I can’t help but feel like it hits a little close to the chest.

So I change the station, but that stupid Celine Dion Titanic song comes on and the tears threaten to fall all over again. I’d just stopped sobbing after four hours. Fucking hell.

What was I thinking?

Clearly, I wasn’t. I’d shown up on Cam’s doorstep, upset and a mess, and he took advantage of the situation. Again.

That’s what my self-preservation tells me. It’s the same code it was last time.

Except… it’s not the same code, and I know Cam didn’t take advantage of me. He didn’t all those years ago, despite what I said. He kissed me in his bedroom, yes, despite knowing my wife was cheating on me. But I could have stopped it there. I could have pushed him away. But I didn’t. I kissed him back, and I. Kept. Coming. Back. For more.

Would I have done so if I knew?

The fact I can’t say no…

I stare out the window as the truth unravels itself.

I took advantage of him that night in Vegas. Kissed him because I wanted to know if it was true—if he loved me like Mack said he did.

Because I was so starved for love, drowning in isolation and he was a life raft.

He was my best friend, and he loved me. But not in the way he was supposed to.

He loved me.

And at the first test of that love, I failed.

I failed miserably, and the last seven years have been my doing because I failed him.

And then somehow I got the exact thing I wanted back—my best friend. And now we’re broken again. Because he couldn’t be honest with me when I needed it the most. I think I knew on some instinctual level that this was inevitable. The crash, the burn. We were never going to work—how could we? I should have known this wouldn’t work.

But God, I wanted it to.

Why do we keep hurting each other like this? I wish I knew.

The rain picks up as I turn off the exit towards Ashbourne.

Savannah will be asleep, and for that I’m glad. I’m not sure I have it in me to deal with her right now, but I’ll have to. I can’t pretend anymore, now that I know the truth.

My wife is cheating on me.

I wish I could say I didn’t care, but that’s just not how it works. Of course, I fucking care. What does this asshole have that I don’t? Is it about the sex? Or is it something… more? I don’t know which is worse.

I’ve done everything. I chose her over him . I made a vow, and she shattered it.

But so did I.

I’m not innocent. Not by a long shot.

Yeah, I’m a hypocrite, I know. How can I be angry at my wife for cheating on me when I’ve been doing the same thing to her for the last two weeks?

Except with Cam it wasn’t just about the sex. It wasn’t some early life crisis affair. And I tried in my marriage. I really did.

I love Cameron.

I love him so fucking much it hurts. I don’t know if I have it in me to endure another round of this.

Last time was hard enough, and we’d barely scratched the surface of what we were. What we could have been.

And now it’s so much worse. Because I do know what we looked like. I do know what we could have been, and that is the deepest cut of all.

My phone stares at me from its spot on the passenger seat, a blank, black abyss.

Though I can still see the light of the screen, hear his ringtone. See his texts flashing through with those three little letters. Hey.

I shut my phone off because if I picked it up, I’d just start crying like a baby if I heard him.

My marriage has been hanging by a thread for years, I’m not stupid. But regardless of how bad things were, I had hope they’d get better. They had to get better, right?

Wrong. Apparently I’m just a sucker for believing in love that can withstand all the storms in its path.

Maybe I’m just a sucker for believing in love, period. Because clearly it’s not something I can have.

The memory of Cam’s mouth on my neck, his tongue in my mouth, leg between mine resurfaces.

His shaky breath as he kissed me while he…

I hit my steering wheel, trying to force the memory away. I don’t want to think about it.

I can’t.

Like everything else, when it comes to Cam, I have to bury it. I won’t survive the fallout again, if I don’t. And I barely survived last time.

I pull up to my driveway, noticing the porch lights still on.

One glance at the clock tells me it’s nearly two a.m. They should be off by now, but maybe Savannah forgot to shut them off, or maybe she was working late and just didn’t remember.

I stare at the house, my heart in my throat.

It looks exactly the same as when I left it.

The windshield wipers squeak and I turn them off, staring out the window.

This is my home, and I should feel happy to see it, but I don’t.

It’s not my home. Not anymore.

It’s been tainted, too.

I push the door open, but I don’t bother to grab my suitcase. I’ll grab it tomorrow.

My muscles are tense from the drive, and I’m sore all over.

Including places I wish I wasn’t, right now, because it’s just another reminder of all the ways I’ve been hurt. It’s just another reminder of him.

I push the memory away, running a hand through my hair as I walk up the steps. I just want to crash in my bed. Wake up and realize this was all some dream…

The flowers are starting to brown, the grass high and full of weeds.

Of course, I wasn’t here to mow the lawn and tend to the weeds, and Savannah wouldn’t be caught dead pushing a lawn mower unless it was for a photoshoot.

I make a mental note to take care of it tomorrow, before I realize what I’m doing.

Slipping back into the role I’ve been playing for years. Fuck the grass. Fuck it all to hell.

I open the door, noting the hallway lights are on.

The door shuts and I hear her laugh. I stop dead in my tracks.

I can’t remember the last time I heard Savannah laugh.

But her voice isn’t the only one I hear. She rounds the bend, and everything moves in slow motion.

She’s dressed in some black lacey bra and panties, a short kimono robe wrapped loosely around her.

I watch as some man chases her down, picking her up like a damn ragdoll and throwing her on the counter. My kitchen counter. Where I fucking cook us dinner.

I watch as she grabs his hair, arching her back, pulling him to her breasts as she wraps her legs around his cut, defined waist.

“Honey, I’m home,” I bite, my voice so dark I don’t even think I recognize it.

“Fuck!” she screeches, scrambling off the counter. Her hand shoves his bare chest away from her and I realize he’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.

“Austen, what the hell are you—”

“I could ask you the same question, Savannah.”

I take two steps forward, noting the surprise and worry on her face.

But it’s soon replaced with a look I’ve come to know well.

“I—”

“What did you think you could just—”

“You were gone, what was I supposed to do?” She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t think you were coming home.”

“And you didn’t even call,” I snap.

“I was respecting your space,” she huffs.

“Respecting my space?” I laugh. I actually laugh. “Is this what respecting my space looks like? You with your legs wrapped around some guy who isn’t your husband?”

She gasps, affronted by my outburst like I’ve just told her pink is so last season.

“You didn’t call me either, Austen, don’t try to act like this is all my fault. It’s not. You—”

“Do not blame me,” I hiss as I step closer. Savannah flinches, stepping back, and for a moment I think she actually cares. But that moment is fleeting because she steps up to me, all five foot four of her, and yells back at me.

“I hope your trip with Cam was nice,” she says, her voice full of venom. “That is where you were, right?” she asks smugly.

Just hearing his name is enough to make me want to crumble, but I can’t.

I can’t let Savannah of all people see me fall apart, see me weak and hurt.

“How long?” I growl. Anger festers in me like a hurricane.

“Austen…”

“How long?” I yell, my voice echoing off the walls. “How long have you been cheating on me?”

My wife’s boyfriend or fuckboy or whatever he is comes at me, clearly not liking my tone, and I grab his arm and twist it. He cries out and Savannah yells, pushing me. The motion dislodges my hand. Her hair flies around her face, her cheeks flushed, her gaze full of anger. No, not anger. Hatred.

“Does it matter?” she huffs.

“It matters to me,” I say through gritted teeth. “We made a vow!”

“You never wanted to marry me, Austen. You only did because I told you I was pregnant. Don’t act like you were in love with me. We both know you weren’t.”

Her words strike me hard.

Because she’s right. All those times I told her I loved her, I never felt it. Not like I felt it in my damn soul when I told Cam I loved him.

I try to fight the memory, I can’t let it infiltrate my thoughts, my heart. Not now, and possibly not ever again if I make it out of this alive.

A horrible thought pushes through and the words fall out of my mouth with anger. Because I think I know the answer.

“Were you ever really pregnant?” I ask, my voice cold.

Savannah raises an eyebrow. “I thought I was, but I wasn’t. But the opportunity for this—” She waves to our house, her lips pursed into a thin line.

“You used me,” I say, shaking my head. “You manipulated me and you used me, for what?”

And suddenly I see everything I didn’t see before.

I see the truth, and it stains my memories like ink.

Her boyfriend or whatever stands there staring at me with a look of equal judgment and fucking sympathy.

I don’t need sympathy. I need…

“Did you ever love me?” I ask, my voice dark, full of pain.

Savannah looks me up and down, the tension between us thick.

And I know her answer. Her hesitation and her judgmental gaze, her indifference, her not even bothering to call me.

Of course not. You don’t manipulate people you love. You don’t betray them the way Savannah betrayed me.

Maybe I was just a means to an end for her but I can’t deny she was a means to an end for me, too. I knew it then, and I know it now. The only difference between us is I tried my fucking hardest to make us something. But Savannah didn’t want us to work, that is clear now.

She only wanted what my name would provide her, and nothing else.

And strangely, knowing the truth, it feels like a relief. Like someone’s been standing on my chest for years and finally they’ve let up.

“You know what, I don’t care,” I say as I turn around, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

“Where are you going?” she asks, following after me.

“I have nothing left to say to you,” I tell her as I move toward the front door.

“Are you going back to him?” she calls out, her voice panicked.

I turn around, frowning at her.

“Why do you care what I do, Savannah?” I ask, defeated. There’s nothing left in me to give her. Or anyone else for that matter. I’m just… done.

She purses her lips, putting her hands on her hips.

“I just wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she says.

I huff out a disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding me? What does it matter to you?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter to me at all, Austen. But it’ll matter to you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I throw my arms up.

“It means Cameron knew about me and Matteo.”

It takes a moment, but I can’t help but smile. This girl really is something else. And here I was worried Cam was saving this to throw it in my face. The whole time, Savannah was saving it to use as a weapon when I finally found out about her being unfaithful.

“Well, aren’t you so fucking kind for telling me, Savannah. Seriously, I cannot thank you enough.” My words drip with sarcasm and she frowns at me, clearly disappointed at my lack of hurting. Maybe if she knew that I already knew that, she’d understand why I’m not freaking out. So I turn on my heel, and move out the front door.

Savannah screeches something, but it’s white noise. I get in the driver’s seat as her boyfriend shouts something incoherent.

I pull out of the driveway, rolling my window down, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, robe hanging off of her, while she stands out in the rain in her lingerie. Like a bad soap opera my mom used to watch. The neighbors are turning their lights on, and I can’t help but smile because pretty soon the whole town will know what happened here, and she’ll never get away from it.

I glance up at her boyfriend, raising an eyebrow.

“Good luck, asshole,” I tell him as I whip out of the driveway.

I bang on my brother’s door not once, not twice, but three times. Given it’s nearly three in the morning, I’m sure he is sleeping, and I half consider turning around to stay at a hotel right before he opens the door.

To say he’s surprised to see me is an understatement.

“Austen, hey… what are you doing here? I thought you were in New York.”

My stomach churns hearing the words, but I manage to stand up straight, my fingers clutching my suitcase.

“I need a place to crash. And I’m not going to mom and dad’s.” They’d have a coronary if I showed up on their porch at three am with a suitcase.

My parents don’t do well with that sort of thing.

“Uh, so you wanna stay here?”

“I’m not here selling cookies, Alex.”

He glances over his shoulder, then sighs. “Yeah, okay. Come in,” he says, opening the door wider. His hair is a mess, but he doesn’t sound like he just woke up.

Sounds like he’s been up for hours. I notice he’s not wearing his knee brace, which he’s supposed to be wearing at all times while he recovers.

“Alex, who is—”

I turn the corner to see Mack, who looks like he definitely just woke up.

Of course, he and my brother must have been hanging out, drinking probably.

“Oh, if you don’t have the room—”

Alex scoffs. “I have four bedrooms, kid. Pick one.”

Mack shoots me a raised eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything. I make my way down the hall into a room, crashing on the bed, which feels too good at this point. I’m tired, sore, and just over this fucking day.

Mack and my brother stand in the doorway.

“Everything okay?” Mack asks, his voice strangely concerned. Like he actually gives a shit.

I sit up, my hands in my lap and then I see it. The gold catches the light.

My wedding band.

I don’t think twice about removing it. It doesn’t mean anything. It never did, apparently.

“Uh, Alex,” I start, not able to look at either of them.

“Yeah?” My brother’s voice is laced with concern, too. I’m sure my showing up here is pretty concerning, to say the least.

“You think…” I set my ring down on the end table, running a hand through my hair. “Your lawyer…” The words are jumbled in my throat, not coming out in the proper order, and they make me feel shaky.

“What about my lawyer?” he asks.

“Do you think I could get his number?”

Alex pushes off the door frame and limps over to me. He really needs to be better about wearing his brace…

“Yeah, sure, but uh, what do you need it for? You’re not in trouble, are ya?”

The wave of sadness, guilt, and pain hit me all at once and it’s no use fighting it. A choked sob escapes my throat.

“I need divorce papers drawn up.”

Alex sits next to me as Mack curses.

“Okay. We’ll talk about it in the morning, kid.” He wraps his arm around me and I lose it.

I let my brother pull me close and I cry. Like a fucking baby, I cry.

But his arms aren’t the ones I want. Though they’ll do, I suppose. He hugs me, and it only makes me cry more.

I can’t have what I want now, because what I want is states away, and he hurt me too. But my entire being wants him still. Wants him to make this better.

Cameron always made things better.

“You should get some rest,” Mack says, strangely soft.

“Okay,” I say as Alex lets go of me. He struggles to get up and I stand to help him, but Mack’s there in a flash.

Neither of them say anything as they leave the room.

I curl my legs up and lay on top of the covers, not bothering to change. And as I drift to sleep, I reach across the empty space for him, even though I know he’s not here.

But in my dreams he will be, and that will have to be enough.

For now.