Page 29 of Alfie: Part One

West and I had hosted our reception at their country club.

I’d been too blissed out to give a fuck about the food and lack of good music, and in retrospect, I should’ve gotten more involved.

To be fair, West hadn’t been very involved either. His mother and two of his sisters had planned it all.

I remembered watching Ma introduce her parents to West’s parents.

Talk about night and day.

My nana had made an assortment of cakes and pastries, and Lucille had been a fucking cunt about it. She’d gestured to the kitchen and been all, “Perhaps the caterers will know what to do with this.”

How the fuck had I stayed silent?

I could only blame so much on my emotional state. Like, I’d been over the fucking moon in love, with all my focus trained on West and how he’d insisted on keeping me close. Kissing my neck, whispering how he couldn’t wait to get me alone, and then when we’d shared our first dance and he’d whispered “my husband” into a slow kiss…

I finished my smoke and tossed it in my empty to-go cup.

Fuck my life, West was right.

I kept insisting I hadn’t changed; I’d only modified my behavior.

What fucking rotten bullshit was that?

Ihadchanged, and I hated it.

I’d deceived myself, my family, and my husband.

In my quest to fit in everywhere, I’d become three different people. Maybe more. I didn’t even know, because shit had started small. Like, don’t bring up certain topics at dinner with West’s parents. Maybe don’t swear so much. And then…oh, dinner with my folks. Time to be loud and fun again. Then we had kids, and obviously, there were traits I didn’t wanna pass on to my son and daughter.

I scratched my forehead, finally seeing my exit up ahead.

At the end of the day, only West saw all of me, and I couldn’t imagine how I’d made his head spin.

I had no defense for that. I hadn’t seen my own actions from his perspective.

I wasn’t willing to shoulder all the guilt for the unraveling of our relationship, but I had no choice but to own up to a very large part of it. I mean, imagine attending a fancy brunch with your husband, and he’s giving off strong WASP vibes. He pretends to laugh at their dull-ass sense of humor, consisting of golf jokes and whatnot.

I hadn’t laughed, but I remembered plastering a grin on my face when West’s brother-in-law once joked about his tip sending the waitress’s kid to college. Like, who the fuck said that?

Pompous douchebags.

I also remembered West sighing and shaking his head at the “joke.”

Then he’d seen his husband acting amused…?

After a brunch like that, it wouldn’t be rare for us to continue to the next place. An outing with the kids, then dinner with my folks. My lies about trying to find work, when in reality, I was hiding bundles of cash because I was already working for the Sons.

Jesus Christ.

In the span of one day, he could see multiple sides of me—and when he confronted me about it, I got defensive.

“Clarity, you fucking cunt.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, and the traffic eased up a bit. I sped up and reached my exit, wondering how I should even act in front of West now.

I’d been gearing up to tell him off for talking to Ma about my brand-new cousin.

Instead, I drove closer and closer, feeling nothing but disgust aimed at myself.

How fucking poetic. In the hopes of having everything, I’d lost it all.