Page 48 of Infidelity Rules

“Julian. Quick,” I hiss. “That’s Marcus’s wife. Do I pretend I don’t know her? What do I do?”

“Oh boy,” he says, his hazel eyes suddenly turning a deep, dark, forest green. “I would go with honesty here. But you had better decide quick.”

I watch as Juliette scans the restaurant. I can feel my pulse galloping and sweat trickling between my breasts. Fantastic. I’m so happy I chose tonight, the night I come face-to-face with Juliette, to whip off my bra and go swinging free.

I take a deep breath. You know what? She’s in my restaurant. In my space. She’s going to have to come to me.

Maybe she’ll chicken out and leave.

Quinn, I reprimand myself. Get a grip. She threw Marcus away and now he wants you. He chose YOU.

Juliette locks eyes with me from across the room.

Here we go.

“Quinn?” she asks as she approaches the bar.

I nod. “Juliette.”

She looks surprised that I know who she is. Damn, she’s even lovelier up close. She has high cheekbones and full lips and wide-set, brown eyes the color of toffee. I am gearing up for a fight until I notice her lips are trembling. I was hoping for angry, spurned wife, not weepy wife.

“You’re the one sleeping with my husband,” she says quietly. “He left me for you.”

I decide to employ the Alex-Julian technique and just shut up. I have nothing to say. And I really need to stop thinking of her as his wife. This woman is Juliette. And she didn’t take care of her man.

And now he’s mine. MINE.

She stares at me with those melted toffee eyeballs.

Nope. I am not backing down. I have nothing to say.

“What kind of person messes with another woman’s marriage?” she asks. “Why would you do that? Isn’t there some kind of code?”

I continue to look Juliette in the eye. It’s getting a bit weird.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks, her voice starting to rise. “Marcus is MY husband. My man. Get. Your. Own.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave now,” I say calmly. “The restaurant is closing.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not going anywhere. Not until I get some answers. You owe me that much.”

“I don’t owe you a damn thing,” I say, glaring at her. “Marcus has left. You two are over and we are in love. If you have any other questions, I suggest you take it up with him.”

“We are not over,” she says, practically growling at me. “I didn’t even get a chance to fight.”

I take a few deep breaths as I don’t want this to escalate. Juliette needs to calm down. I need to calm down. I can see Julian keeping tabs on us from behind the bar. I swear, it’s only his steady, soothing presence that’s keeping me from totally wigging out right now.

“You never gave me the chance,” she says, scowling at me. “One day we were celebrating our anniversary and practically the next, he’s gone. He’s already filed for divorce.”

Divorce? Divorce? Did she just say he officially filed for divorce? I feel the wind knocked out of me. Relax Quinn. Calm down. You knew this was coming. You’re good. You can power through this.

I take a sip from my water glass and try to gather my jumble of thoughts.

“You need to back off,” she says, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders.

I shake my head. “I can’t do that. It’s too late.”

“Yes, you can,” she says fiercely now, almost spitting at me. “He’s mine.”

“Not anymore,” I say, drawing myself up to my full height and looking down at her. I will take this woman out . Good god what is wrong with me?

“Stay away from my husband,” she shouts. “Please. Just go away.”

“You bailed out a long time ago,” I say quietly.

“You did that. You turned your back on him.” As I say this, I really don’t know how much of it is true.

I believe what Marcus told me about Jett and Juliette’s subsequent downward spiral, but I also know there are two people in a marriage. Two sides to every story.

I’m not stupid. Just very much in love.

“You’re right, I did,” says Juliette, her pretty face crumpling. It’s like all the air rushing out of a balloon, she simply collapses and deflates. “I drove him away,” she whispers. “I did that.”

I sigh. “Juliette ...”

“No. Stop,” she says, cutting me off. “I take some responsibility here, but I don’t want to lose my husband. We have a long history together and I deserve the chance to win him back. I do.”

I don’t know what to say. I am not backing down and I am not handing over Marcus. No way. And unless she’s totally clueless about him, she knows this will not fly with Marcus. He does what he wants.

And he doesn’t want her. He wants me. And I now know I want him too. And everything that comes along with that. Wow. Oh wow. I am ready to fight for my man.

I am ready to rumble.

Juliette starts to cry. Not just sniffling tears, but gasping, little-girl sobs. She puts her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking as the tears stream down her cheeks and drip onto the marble bar.

“Please, Quinn,” she whispers, grasping at my hands. “I am begging you. Woman to woman. Please stay away from my husband.”

Okay. I’ve had enough of this nonsense. I feel bad. I do. But Marcus doesn’t want to be married to her anymore. And I’m certainly not going to bow to her demands.

“Marcus left you, Juliette. I’m sorry, but it’s true. I did not take him away. He left.”

Juliette is quiet, spent. Her face is pale and streaked with tears.

“Why do you even want him back?”

She ignores my question. “May I use the bathroom before I leave?” she asks, her voice barely audible.

I nod and point towards the restrooms. This just plain sucks. I know I have a role to play in all of this, but it’s not like we’re sneaking around anymore. Marcus came clean and moved out and lives near me now. He loves me .

It’s just too late for Juliette. And I think she needs to hear it from him.

“Hey, Q, you okay?” asks Julian, rubbing my shoulders. “You handled that as well as could be expected, I think.”

“Thanks,” I say, smiling weakly. “That was hell. But hearing you say that helps. There is no manual for this.”

“Is she coming back? Do you need me to do anything?”

“I don’t know,” I say, keeping an eye on the bathroom door. “Just being here is enough Julian, thank you.”

We both watch as Juliette starts heading back toward us. I blow out a sigh. Really? I can’t take anymore tonight.

“I’m leaving,” she says quietly. “But I think you should know that I’m pregnant.”

I stare at her, my jaw falling open.

“It’s a miracle, really,” she says, placing a hand on her still-flat stomach. “But I am. And I want to give this baby a chance at a family.”

Anniversary sex, I think. God damn that anniversary sex.

I feel woozy. The room is spinning as if I just drank a half bottle of wine with zero food.

“And before you even ask, yes. Yes, he knows,” says Juliette, her toffee-colored eyes huge and brimming with tears. “He knows. And he wants a divorce anyway.”

I can’t speak. I can’t think straight. I’m afraid if I stand up I might pitch forward onto the floor, arms and legs akimbo.

Once again, I feel like a giant ass. A dinosaur ass, if you will.

“You don’t have to say anything,” says Juliette softly. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but then, well ... I don’t know. I’m desperate I guess,” she says, her eyes pleading.

“Oh Juliette,” I say, sucking in a deep breath.

“Don’t. Please don’t say anything,” she says. “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

I stay quiet. I know what she’s asking and I don’t want to hear it. I want to clamp my hands over my ears like a toddler and scream.

“Think about letting him go,” she says, turning to leave. “Please. Think about giving this baby a father. Giving this baby a real family.”