Page 33 of Before We Were Us
Suddenly it's like my entire body weighs a few tons. I can’t move, my feet feel as though they’ve been concreted to the pavement. My heart is racing and the pressure on my chest is making it hard to breathe.
I have to be imagining things. Right?
There is no way this woman said what I think she said.
“Hello.” The gorgeous, stacked blonde goddess reaches out. “I’m Chrissy, this guy's wife.” She is perfect, every part of her is flawless.
My throat feels like it's closing up.
“And you are?”
Jensen’s hand flexes around mine and I am reminded of where I am and with who. I attempt to pull my hand from his. “Leaving,” I say in a hoarse whisper as I give my hand one strong tug and walk in the opposite direction. I hear my name being called out but my feet move faster. I feel like I’m in a tunnel, everything hazy and unclear around me. I’m breathing fast, my stomach churning as I fight the urge to be sick.
His wife?
“Brynn.” Again my name echoes as I step up to the curb and wave my hand trying my best to hail a cab.
“Baby, wait.” A hand covers mine and I jerk away.
Turning around I find Jensen standing behind me and on instinct I slap him. The contact sounds loud and immediately I cover my mouth. He stares back at me, and I wish more than anything that I’d wake up. This has to all be a lie.
“You’re married?”
“Yes, but let me ex?—”
“Oh my God!” I scream and it's amplified as it bounces off the tall buildings around us. “How could you put me in this situation? I am not a homewrecker!” I shove against his chest, but he doesn’t move.
Instead he takes my hand in his own, trying to hold me close only I tug against him. “Babe my home was wrecked long before you came along.”
I yank my hands away from his.
“Can you just give me a minute to explain?” He takes a step toward me and I hold one arm up while I again wave for a cab.
“The time to explain would have been before you and I ever,” I pause remembering the things I allowed him to do to me. “I’m a whore,” I mumble.
“What the fuck did you just say?” He sounds angry.
“You made me into a whore, the kind of woman that sleeps with a married man.” My stomach twists and angrily I attempt once again to wave down a cab. This time one sweeps in and slows next to the curb.
“This is not me,” I insist. “I would never—.” My heart literally hurts in my chest. Tears pool in my eyes and anger rushes through me. How could he put me in this situation? How could he not tell me that… oh my God!
“Brynn let me drive you home and we can talk.”
“No.” I open the cab door. “Do not follow me.” He looks torn as he fights the urge to reach out and stop me from going. “I can’t believe this.” I laugh, because I don’t want to cry. “How could you put me in this position?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“You’re fucking married,” I scream at him. “It’s exactly what I think.”
Then I turn and I climb inside the cab, slamming the door to cut off contact. Leaning back against the seat I tell the driver my address and for the next eight blocks I fight against the need to cry.
Feeling my phone vibrating with message after message in my purse I choose to ignore them all.
Nothing he has to say can make this okay.
When I reach my apartment building I numbly pull out money and pass it to the driver. It could have been a one-hundred-dollar bill for all I know as I climb out and close the door behind me. Looking up at the building I’ve lived in for several years reality sets in and I start toward the front door.
Perry, the night doorman, greets me and I continue past him, unable to respond. The ride upstairs takes forever or so it seems.