Page 33 of This Could Be Us
I’ve been so stupid. All the nights I wondered why he didn’t want to sleep with me, and he was fucking someone else. The irony of me practically begging him to make love to me the night of the Christmas party. Now I understand his comments about vaginal rejuvenation weren’t just simple cruelty. He was redirecting; distracting me from his duplicity by making me feel inadequate, deliberately planting seeds of insecurity so I focused on me and not on the shit he was up to. My paranoia that sprang from his odd behavior the last two years wasn’t paranoia at all, but intuition. Instinct I was too afraid to follow to its natural conclusion.
It’s not even the infection itself that makes me feel dirty. It’s his betrayal. I feel stained not by what he has given me, but by what he has taken away. What he withheld from me when I held nothing back from him and gave everything to the life we promised we’d build together.
The hurt settles like sediment, sinking all the way to the bottom of me, and solidifies into rage. Not only has he put our financial security at risk, left the girls and me completely vulnerable, but he has violated me in the most egregious way. Not just breaking our vows, but defiling what was supposed to be sacred between our bodies and our hearts.
Or did he ever even see it that way? Was he ever the great guy I thought I married right out of college? The one who made me the envy of every girl in our class? When did he change into this monster who steals millions of dollars and has unprotected sex with other people? Or has he spent the last twenty years hiding behind a grotesque mask?
Only one way to find out. I dial Brunson and don’t even wait for him to speak.
“Hey, I do want you to make sure I’m on Edward’s visitors’ list today after all.”
“Okay. Did something change?”
“Yeah.” I sniff and brush the last of my tears away. “Everything.”
CHAPTER NINE
SOLEDAD
Irushed to get to the prison, and now I can’t make myself move from the parking lot. Sitting here, staring at the building, I swallow the tide of emotion that keeps rising in my throat, threatening to flood my eyes. Edward doesn’t get any more of my tears. He’s not worthy.
I check my reflection in the rearview mirror. I’m wearing very little makeup, a simple sweater and jeans. The guidelines Brunson sent indicated modest clothing. I wish I could show up wearing sackcloth and ashes, mourning the death of my illusions, of my marriage, of the world as I knew it. I’m climbing out of my truck when I spot a blond woman exiting the prison. She looks familiar, and as she draws closer, I know exactly who she is.
“Oh, my God.” I hop back into the Rover and dip down in my seat, pushing my head up just enough to see her unlock a black Porsche convertible.
Amber.
All my suspicions about her come rushing back. Actually they never left. I just filed them away because Edward always had an answer, and I could never catch him in a lie. He always had an excuse.
Until now.
There is no excuse he can offer this time because the proof of his infidelity, of his perfidy, I carry in my body.
I’m parked at the opposite end of the parking lot, so she doesn’t see me. I lie flat in my seat for a few minutes, allowing time for her to leave.I slowly raise my head to make sure her car is gone. Exhaling my fears, my uncertainties, my hurt, I breathe in indignation and resentment like noxious fumes that, instead of weakening me, make me stronger. Strong enough to get through this confrontation. As I store my purse in a locker and walk through the metal detector, I rehearse the wrongs Edward has done to me, to our family, nursing my rage. Keeping it barely checked and growling at the surface to unleash on my pathetic excuse for a husband.
Fortunately, when I enter the visitors’ room, there aren’t many people there. It’s not a private space, but inmates and their visitors are spread out, and the conversations are low-voiced, for the most part. Edward stands from the cheap couch as soon as he sees me, arms outstretched. I stop a few feet shy of his touch and pour all my fury into the glare I send him. His arms drop slowly to his sides, a frown knitting between his dark blond brows.
“Soledad,” he says, but it sounds more like a question, one he dares to pair with a small smile. “Glad you changed your mind. Brunson said you had to take Lottie to a meet but might make it tomorrow. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Is that why Amber was rushing off?”
His smile petrifies, and I see the moment he realizes I’ve caught his ass. His eyes glint with calculation before he blanks his face.
“What do you mean? You saw Amber? Talked to her?”
I place my hands on my hips and stare up at him with lifted brows. “She is the one you’re fucking, right? The one you got chlamydia from?”
He looks around furtively, embarrassment burning his face bright red. “Have you lost your mind? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Oh, I guess you’re not showing symptoms yet either, or maybe you forgot you recently deigned to fuck your wife and could have passed it on to her. Your girlfriend isn’t justyours, Edward. She’s spreading her shit elsewhere, and thanks to you, it’s spread to me.”
He pulls in a long breath, the muscles along his jaw bunched. “The notion of me being unfaithful to you is ridiculous. If you have the clap, I’m asking whoyou’vebeen with.”
“Do you expect this to work?” I fold my arms across my chest and narrow my eyes, seeing him more clearly maybe than I ever have. “That you can bravado your way out of this? That you can flash your Whitestrips smile and I’ll be so dazzled I’ll forget you cheated on me?”
“Shut up,” he hisses, glancing around. “We cannot have this conversation here. It’s too dangerous.”
“What was dangerous was you having unprotected sex with Amber and then fucking me.”