Page 107 of Insta Bride

“If I called in sick every day Kye and I have a fight, I’d be looking for a new job as well as a new husband.”

“Do you believe him?” Oliva asked, squeezing in between Tash and me. My voice of romantic reason wasn’t going to let Tash and Jess become my only sounding board. “Kye rang Hunter last night after you fell asleep.”

“Lucky Hunter.”

“Unlucky Hunter. By the time he finished talking to your husband, my husband had lost the part of him that makes him husbandly.”

“Ewe—gross. Can’t you two dial it down now you’re married?”

“Really? Did you?” Oliva licked the butter off a middle piece of garlic bread. “Did you kiss your husband more or less after you married him?”

“We got married after a couple of weeks.”

“My point is, I have needs. My husband knows my needs and was about to take care of them before your husband called. Doesn’t he have friends of his own?”

“He does, but they keep threatening to be my second marriage. He doesn’t get relationship advice from them that doesn’t involve me dumping his ass.”

“For what it’s worth, Kye asked Hunter a thousand questions about you and Maddox last night.”

“Like?”

“Were you happy when you were together? Did you seem like you both wanted the same things? Did he treat you right?”

“He screwed around on me.”

“Other than that—Kye didn’t just accept yes, no or maybe style answers. Your man wanted deets. He wanted to know everything.”

“Like?”

“Whether there might be a part of you that still loves Maddox. Whether the reason you took so long to move on and didn’t date was because you secretly wanted Maddox to come to his senses and crawl back to you.”

“Oh.”

My friends expected a denial, any type of answer. Even I had to admit, Oh, was not an answer. I guess, my answer had changed over time. At first, I’d wanted him to come crawling back and beg my forgiveness—before I used his body and tossed him to the curb. At other times, I wanted him to beg me for a second chance and twenty years later we’d still be celebrating our life together.

But recently, I’d stopped thinking of Maddox as anything other than a lucky escape. Which made me wonder about Kye. If he was Maddox 2.0, then was I better off letting him go, now?

“At least we were trending on all platforms.” I tried to change the subject—none of my friends could ignore my social media profile. “We kicked #KenzLovesBenz and #BenziIsLove off all platforms.”

“Good for you. Which tag did it? #TornBetween2Lovers or #FeelingLikeAFool?” Tash gave up the couch to sit on the floor—closest to the open bottle of wine.

“Biatch!” Jess held out her glass for a refill. “I think we can get #ElenaUpgraded or a tagline war between #Elena&Maddox or #Kye4Ever.”

“Oh, no. How about #KyeXOXO.”

“I love it, but please stop!” I slopped my drink and lost my pizza to Kye’s beige carpet. Of course, it landed tomato base side down.

“The point is, do you believe your husband?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. He doesn’t give me any reason not to trust him, but—”

“You love him and that means he can hurt you.” Olivia said, flatly. Waiting until I nodded before enveloping me into a hug. “Oh, babe, if he doesn’t love you already, he’s well on his way.”

“But all the photos. I don’t know where the fake stops and the truth starts.”

“What does he tell you?”

“He tells me when the woman is a client and the photo has been cropped to pieces. He makes sure he takes photos of groups when he goes out for work, just so he can show me who else is there.”

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