Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Hey there,” he says, smiling and coming over to me. “There she is, the birthday girl.” He squats down in front of me and leans up to kiss my lips, and I let him. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
I take in his brown eyes that look almost black, eyes I’ve stared into for over two years now. Eyes that promised me the world. “I was thinking,” I say softly, and he grabs one of my hands and brings it to his mouth.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he says, and I take a mental picture of him, not that I need to. “Stuff came up.”
“You mean your wife,” I tell him, and it suddenly hits me. I mean, it hit me four months into the relationship when I found out he had a wife. But he promised me he was leaving her. She was his high school love, and it would take time, but he loved me. And only me. It. Was. All. A. Lie.
He continued to woo me with exotic vacations when he knew I was fed up, but I can’t blame him. I have to take the blame myself.
“Mon amour.” My love. He uses my nickname, and I shake my head. “You know I’m working on it.”
“Really?” I ask him. “From the looks of it, she’s about eight months pregnant, so you must really be working on something,” I tell him. The color drains from his face, and I laugh bitterly. “I mean, the writing was on the wall really.”
“I can explain,” he says. I push him away from me and stand. Going to the window, I look out, refusing to show him how much he just hurt me. I won’t give him that. I blink it away and push it down, then turn to look at him. He stands there with his hands in his pockets, wearing his gold Rolex—a birthday present from me—on his wrist. I wonder how he explained that to her, or maybe he didn’t have to.
“What can you explain?” I ask him but then just continue talking. “How, for the past eighteen months, you strung me along by saying you were leaving her?” My voice rises a bit. “How, for the past fucking eight months, she was pregnant with your child, and you didn’t bother to mention it? Nothing!” I shout the last part. “I waited for you and believed you.”
“I love you, Vivienne, with every—” He starts to talk, but I stop him.
“Would you just cut the bullshit?” I finally snap angrily. “For once, why don’t you just admit it? Just admit I was your mistress.”
“You know you’re more than that,” he says. “You have to know.”
“I’ve been sitting here for the past four hours thinking about what excuse you must be giving her. Wondering if she suspects that you’re a liar and a cheater, or are you just that good?” I put my hands up. “I mean, I believed you every single time you walked away saying it was almost over.”
“She got pregnant by accident,” he says, and I suddenly see how fucking stupid he sounds.
“By accident, you mean your dick fell into her vagina or what …?” I shake my head.
“You know that isn’t what I mean,” he says. “I was going to leave her, you know that, and then she got pregnant, and I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“So you lied to protect me?” I rub my face. “Then how long would it be before you told me?”
“I was going to tell you.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, for sure. Happy Birthday and oh, by the way, I’m a father.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Get out.”
“You don’t mean that,” he says, trying to come to me, and I walk away from him to the other side of the room. “We can talk about this.”
“The only thing I want you to tell me is where to send all your shit,” I tell him. “Holy shit, we were partially living with each other. What could you have possibly told her that she believed?” He opens his mouth to answer. “You know what? I don’t care. It isn’t my problem anymore.”
“Why don’t we talk tomorrow?” he says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He turns to walk away.
“You can try, but you won’t get through.” He stops and then turns back to look at me. “After tonight, you will no longer be welcome here. You will never see me again, not even in passing.”
“Baby,” he says softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I need you.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You need to go back to your wife and your child.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” I tell him. “Get out.” I walk toward my bedroom, slamming the door behind me and locking it. I fall back onto the door and slowly slide down, listening to him walk to the front door. Only when the door closes and I count to one hundred do I allow the first tear to fall, but then it is like a dam opening and the sobs rip through me. I don’t know how long I sit here, but my whole body feels like it got run over by a truck. The only thing I know is I will never, ever let myself fall in love again.