Page 37 of Before We Were Us

“Maybe I know something.” She sits opposite me. “But I prefer to hear the full story from you.”

“There is not much to say. I met a guy, thought he was good. He wasn’t and I found this out when I was standing face to face with his wife.” I half expect her to snarl, but she holds my stare without showing even a minimal reaction. “A wife I had no clue he had.”

“So, he’s married?”

“Yes, Mother, your daughter is a homewrecker.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” She reaches out to open the bag, and tips it sideways, dumping everything out. Individually wrapped caramels and chocolate scatter over the edge of my desk and immediately my eyes shift in their direction.

“Well, believe it,” I say to her but can’t seem to shift my eyes away from the temptation.

“Have you spoken with him?”

“No.” Without another wasted second I reach out and grab a caramel. Slowly I unwrap the yumminess. “I don’t have a reason to talk to him.” I hate that I miss his smile and the random text messages he’d send me throughout the day. I kept those details to myself.

Silence settles over the room and I place the caramel in my mouth, looking up to find my mother watching me.

“What? You think I should call him up?” I grab another caramel and immediately start to unwrap it. My mother knows the way to my heart or conscience, she knows them both well. “Should I say, ‘Hey Jensen, how are things, so how did you meet your wife? How long have you been married? What color were the flowers at your wedding?’” I know I am being snarky. But I also know that my mom won’t take any of it to heart. She is breaking through my barrier. The wall I’ve built around the hurt I feel. The one that gives off the idea that I am completely unaffected by what’s happened. I am unbreakable, truth, and my mother knows well, I am being held together by duct tape at this point.

“Maybe, you could just go with, why didn’t you tell me you were married?” I’ve noticed I’ve now tackled the caramels with not even an ounce of shame and she’s not touched one.

“Does it matter?” I shrug, trying to fight the slight ache in my chest. “I know now. Going back to the what-ifs and whys won’t change that.”

“No, but it may give you a better understanding of why he chose to withhold that information.” My mother leans forward pushing a few of the stray pieces of candy in my direction. “Maybe there is more to the story.”

I hold her stare, I know what she’s doing. It’s what she always does, finds the good in every situation. Even when it looks like there could be no possible good, she digs it out of the darkest situation. “I don’t care if there is. It doesn’t change the outcome. It all ends the same. Me, looking like I’m the whore that slept with a married man.”

“You’re angry and bitter.”

“Yep.” There is no reason to argue. Why would I? It’s true. “I am.”

twenty-three

. . .

Jensen

“Hey Steele.” I look up from my desk to find McConnell standing in the doorway with one hand resting on the jam. “You got a visitor.”

My heart rate spikes and I start to stand as he moves over and there a few feet behind him stands Sebastian Webster. Disappointment fills me and I sit back in my chair and brace myself. There’s only one reason he’d drive across town to visit me.

“Not who you were expecting?” He moves closer, his lip curling upward at the side. “The wrong Webster?”

I don’t know him well, but it doesn’t take much effort on my part to pick up on the fact that he’s pissed.

Stepping into my office, he turns to look back over his shoulder and I give McConnell a nod that it’s all good. I could be signing my own death warrant but I’m willing to take the chance.

With my office door closed and no one in the room to hear, Sebastian doesn’t hold back. “Did you enjoy playing with her? Messing with her fucking head, getting a little piece on the side while your wife waited at home?”

I could say so many things, and yeah I probably should. But the arrogant prick isn’t the one that I owe an explanation to.

“Do you have nothing to say?”

“I have plenty to say,” I assure him. “But you aren’t the person I want to say them to.”

Sebastian crosses his arms over his chest. His scowl deepens. “I can guarantee that you won’t be saying them to Brynn.” He squares his shoulders, narrowing his eyes at me. “You’ve fucked with her head enough.”

“So, did you drive all the way here to tell me to stay away?”

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