Page 32 of His Infatuated Wife

So trust him!

But I still need distracting, and so I spend the next hour preparing my surprise for Jacques. I want our first night in his home to be special.

Mm.

I order two dozen red roses and start scattering the petals all over his apartment. It's such a clichéd thing to do, but I love it, and I hope he---

Huh?

Another round of text messages has flooded my inbox, and all of it has images attached to them.

What's happening?

I click on the first one, and my heart drops to my stomach.

It's my husband and Eva having dinner.

I trust him, I trust him, I trust him.

And I do trust him still, but it hurts.

Oh God, it hurts so, so much.

Why is he letting another woman hold his hand?

Am I being unreasonable to feel hurt over this?

I know she's his friend, but is that reason enough?

The longer I stare at the photo, the harder it is for me to breathe.

I trust him, I trust him, I trust him.

And it's at that moment I hear the apartment door open.

I spin around just as my husband strides in, and when I see him look straight at me---

Oh God, no.

He doesn't even see the rose petals strewn all over the floor, and so I know right away.

"What's wrong?" I whisper.

"You tell me."

It's so, so hard to breathe, God.

The harshness of his tone cuts me to the quick, and I can't help but wonder if he's ever spoken to Eva like this.

"All I want is the truth."

The way he says the words seems to imply that I've been lying to him all this time, and all I can do is look at him in confusion. "I've never lied---"

"Then why didn't you ever tell me about your boyfriend?"

"Whose boy---"

"Stop lying, dammit."

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