Page 100 of Insta Bride

Carefully, as if scared I was going to bolt out of the apartment, Kye pulled out his phone. He curled up next to me so I could see the screen as he sorted through folders of photos.

“Shit, I’ve got a lot of shit here.”

Kye pulled out his laptop and started sorting through the photos that had been saved to the cloud.

“I knew Zac sent me a copy.”

Eventually, after I’d gotten out of bed, reheated the croissants, returned and we’d eaten, Kye found the photo.

“That’s her.”

Kye had been telling the truth. The photo was of a dozen people crammed together on the edge of the pool.His hand was over the girl’s breast. His other hand was over a guy’s crotch.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, as his phone beeped with a message.

“I guess they could have posted the photo of your other hand.”

“Zac wants to talk to you,” Kye said, showing me his phone.

I dialled the number, noting nothing in their recent call history. Kye hadn’t planned this call. “Zac, it’s Elena.”

“It wasn’t Kye.” Trust Zac to get straight to the point.

“You don’t have to lie for him, I saw the photo.”

“No, I mean Kye didn’t give any woman the best night of her life that weekend. He got too plastered and fell asleep on the bathroom floor. I’ve got photos.”

“But the girl?”

“Any time you want to trade your hubby in for a guy who can apparently give a girl the best night of her life, let me know.”

Zac hung up, still laughing while I fell into the shoulder of my husband.

Who hadn’t cheated on me.

He hadn’t even slept with the woman who was making money out of a cropped photo.

Still, when was my public humiliation going to end?

How long would I wait for my husband to love me?

In a few short weeks, my first marriage would be over and after the media interest died down, I’d return to the same person I used to be.

I would spend the rest of my life turning up to my friends liquid lunches. I’d celebrate their dating triumphs and catastrophes and I’d have a damn good reason not to be coaxed back into the dating pool.

I’d never love anyone as much as Kye.

And no man was ever going to be able to hurt me as much as Kye hurt me every day he didn’t love me back.

I hated knowing the truth.

But, even though he’d upped his romantic efforts since the interviews, and tried to show me how much he cared, he’d never said the words.

I love you.

Three little words.

How hard could it be to tell me three little words?