Page 70 of What He Doesn't Know

She had kissed me, too. She had touched me, had moaned my name, had pressed her nails into my skin like she wanted to make a permanent mark.

And she had.

She didn’t get to just walk away from me now.

“You know what?” I said, bending to meet her eyes with mine. I pressed my hands flat on her desk, forcing her to look at me. “I’m not sorry. Not even a little bit. I’ve wanted you for years.Decades. And did I ever think I’d have you? No. But then life brought me here, back to you, and you were fucking miserable the day I came back. You still are. You can open that pretty mouth of yours and tell me every lie you’ve told yourself but I’ll never believe them. Iseeyou, Charlie.”

I pushed off the desk to stand again as two tears slipped from her eyes, falling in parallel lines down to her jaw.

“You can push me away, and you can tell yourself you feel nothing for me, but I know it’s bullshit. And you do, too.”

I held her gaze for a moment, hammering that point home before I turned and made my way out the door at the same speed I’d made my way in. My stomach churned, the voice inside me calling me an asshole like I didn’t already know. But I didn’t regret a single thing I’d said.

It was all true — every word of it.

And if I had to lose sleep at night drowning in the truth of it all, then she would, too.

Charlie

The first day of March fell on a Saturday, a little less than a week after my night with Reese. It was that day that we received the first warnings of a possible blizzard that week, of more snow than we’d had all year.

It wasn’t that the forecast calling for snow was a big deal in Pennsylvania — we’d had plenty of it already. Some days it would fall and melt away just as fast, other days it would stick on the ground for a while, but up until that point, we hadn’t had any reason to think we would have any chance at a snow day, much less a blizzard that could close the school for multiple days.

It usually took at least five inches for the school board in the Pittsburgh area to even bat an eye at the possibility, and we hadn’t come close. If the plow trucks could get through and the roads were kept in a drivable condition, there really was no reason to call a snow day.

But that Saturday, they predicted at least eight inches to fall Monday night, and that meant there was a chance.

It was also that Saturday that Cameron decided to make up for our anniversary.

“This is nice,” he said that afternoon when we were cuddled up on the couch under one of my favorite blankets. I was tucked comfortably under his arm, his fingers drawing circles on my shoulder as we settled in for the third movie in our marathon.

He’d made breakfast for us that morning, cinnamon French toast, but for some reason it hadn’t tasted the same to me. The toast had a burnt taste to it, the cinnamon too strong, making my mouth dryer with every bite.

Still, I’d cleaned my plate, and then Cameron had given me a full body massage during our first movie. He’d held me close all day, kissing me sweetly, and for all intents and purposes, it should have felt perfect to me.

But I didn’t feel anything at all.

I was staring at the television screen pretending to watch the movie when he repeated himself.

“Right? This is nice.”

I blinked, snapping myself back into the moment and cuddling closer to him. “Mm-hmm, you know movie days are my favorite.”

“We don’t get to have them very often.”

“That’s why they’re my favorite.”

It was true. There were very few days in the ten years we’d been together that we’d ever had the time to just lounge around and watch movies. We were both always so busy in college, and once we were married, we filled every weekend with house projects, trips, and exploring Pittsburgh. If there ever was a day when I had the time to watch movies, it was usually when Cameron was stuck working in his office.

“I know I keep saying it,” he said, sweeping my hair back from my forehead to plant a kiss there. “But I’m truly sorry for missing our anniversary. I hope this helps make up for it a little bit, but I know it doesn’t make everything better.”

“It’s okay.”

Cameron sat up straighter then, pulling me back away from him until our eyes met. “It’s not. Look… I know things have been…” He swallowed. We both knew he didn’t have to finish that sentence for me to know how things had been. “I haven’t been a good husband to you lately, and I’m sorry. You deserve more than that.”

My heart ached so powerfully I pressed a hand to my chest to soothe it. Cameron was looking at me with absolute agony in his eyes, likehewas the disappointing one.

It was me who kissed another man less than a week before.