Page 45 of Playing Dirty

The desk was still vibrating faintly from where I’d slapped it when the memory snuck up on me.

It came in soft at first—like the scent of something warm drifting through a half-open window. The kind of moment that didn’t hurt until you realized it never meant what you thought it did.

He’d come home late. That part I remembered clearly.

The porch light had already timed itself off, and I was sitting on the couch in an old sweatshirt, half-watching something forgettable on TV and wondering whether I should just go to bed. Then the door opened, and there he was—grinning, worn out, holding a bouquet of daisies in one hand and his keys in the other.

Daisies. My favorite.

“Picked these up at a little flower stand near the Montana border,” he said, crossing the room like he couldn’t get to me fast enough. “I missed you.”

I’d taken the flowers and buried my face in them, already melting. He always knew when to show up just right. When to be sweet. When to disarm me.

He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, leaned in, and kissed my forehead.

“I hated being away,” he murmured. “I couldn’t wait to get back to you.”

And I had believed him.

Every word.

I’d set the daisies in a mason jar on the kitchen counter and fallen asleep that night after making love. Feeling wanted. Safe. Like love was still something I could count on, even if it had a habit of showing up late with road dust on its shoes.

But now, sitting in that office with the truth pressing down on me like a second spine, I could see it for what it really was.

A performance.

A moment borrowed from someone else’s story. Undoubtedly from some other woman. Some other life.

He hadn’t hated being away. He had just hated the idea of being caught.

I stared down at my phone, Rhett’s name glowing on the screen like it might offer something—guidance, reassurance, a voice that didn’t lie.

I hitcall.

It rang twice. Then straight to voicemail.

I didn’t leave a message.

What could I even say?Hey, I figured it out. He’s been lying. Again. And I think I already knew.Also—I think I need to see you.

I let the screen go dark and held the phone in my hand a second longer, thumb pressed against the edge like I might change my mind and try again.

But I didn’t.

There was no more room for doubt. No more space for waiting. No more pretending I needed permission to move on from someone who’d already moved on from me.

I was done.

I stood and grabbed my purse as I walked through the store. At the front, I found Madison—the head cashier—and gave her a quick nod.

“Can you close up tonight?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

She blinked at me in surprise. “Of course. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just need to step out.”

She didn’t press, and I didn’t offer anything else.