“No,” Quinn replies. “I think it’s a great idea, actually. Leave town. Get away for a week or two. Get some distance and mental clarity.”
“Yes,” Skylar agrees. “I think it’ll be good for you, honestly. I’d give anything to get out of March in Boston and go to Las Vegas, then a Mexican resort. You’ll have a few drinks, relax by the pool and the beach, read some books, eat some amazing food, and chill out with Roman.”
When she puts it like that… “You’re right. I’m way overthinking this.”
“Then don’t,” Quinn retorts. “Just go with it and enjoy it. Have fun. Live a little.”
I smile, thinking about that. I deserve a little fun.
“I gotta go,” Quinn says. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you both.”
“Yes,” Skylar jumps in. “Same. Night, Brae. You’re going to be just fine.”
They disconnect the call, and I sit here alone, staring out at the sparkling lights beyond the windows. My phone rings and I hit the green button without looking, wanting to get this overwith. If I’m turning the page and starting a new chapter, I can’t leave myself on a perpetual cliffhanger. I have to end the scene once and for all.
I put the phone back to my ear, but I can’t make myself say anything. Not hi or hello or even go fuck yourself.
“Brae? You there?”
I make a noise.
“Where are you? I went everywhere searching for you.”
I snort out a laugh. “Not everywhere. You know where I am. Why you bothered going to Sky’s and Quinn’s is beyond me.”
“I was hopeful.”
My eyes close, and I bite my bottom lip to the point where I taste blood. “How long?” I ask, needing to know. I rest the side of my face on my knees and put the phone on speaker.
“It doesn’t matter?—”
“How. Long?” I grit out. “Just be a man and tell me. The truth,” I tack on.
He blows out a heavy breath and his voice drops to just above a whisper. “Three weeks.”
I close my eyes. It’s actually not as bad as I thought, and that’s a fucked-up thought to even have.
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he admits in a low tone. “The wedding was coming on fast, and she… she came on to me. Actually, she had been for a year, but I’d never reciprocated anything. I knew once we were married, I’d never sleep with anyone else again, and it just kind of happened that first time.”
“And after that?”
“After that, each time I said it was going to be my last. I did. I fucking hated myself for it. I felt gross and dirty and like the lowest son of a bitch on the planet. But then she’d make a move on me, and it felt like the last breath of freedom. I was weak to it.”
“How many times did you fuck her in our bed?”
“That was the first. We were going to go to a hotel, but the room wasn’t ready, and she suggested my place instead.”
My eyes close at the pain slicing through my chest. “Did you think about me? When you brought her into our home? When you saw my phone charger on the nightstand and my sleep shirt still on the floor? Did you even care or think about me, or was your stupid dick too hard?”
“I fucked up,” he says weakly. “I did. I know I did. And I’m so, so sorry. So eternally sorry. But it truly was just sex. I don’t have feelings for her. This wasn’t emotional. I love you. I want to marry you. I just… I needed one last time before it was only ever you.”
“Except that marriage would have been built on lies. On secrets. I would have come home and gotten into that bed beside you after you were with another woman in it. Think about that. Think about how fucking gross and horrible that is. Try to imagine the reverse. What if I had done what you did? What if I had been out fucking someone else because the thought of one dick for the rest of my life scared me? How would you feel about that?”
“I’d hate it,” he answers quickly. “I’d fucking hate it.” His voice cracks.
“Think of me as Braelyn, your friend, for a moment. What would you do if the guy I was with did to me what you did? What would you tell me?”