Page 76 of The Devious Husband

I pull my legs up underneath me as I continue to read about the projects he stole from me, and the way he’d let me get away with things when I genuinely thought I had the upper hand. I gasp when I read about the way I nearly got caught breaking into his house that very first time. Thinking back, those were moments that I held so dear. You have no idea how many times I’ve rewatched videos of you breaking into any of my properties, just to see you smile as you wreaked havoc. It was after that very first time, when you’d nearly gotten caught spraying graffiti on the side of my brand new office that I created the Mrs. Kingston Protocol — a security protocol that allowed you to do absolutely anything you wanted at any Kingston property, at any time. All of our security staff was trained to recognize you on the cameras that you never knew existed, and every time they spotted you, they’d follow your actions, ensuring you never set off an alarm and were never caught. The protocol only failed twice in over seven years, once because Valentina had been with you, and she didn’t have the same clearance you do, and once because a guard had already been on patrol by the time you activated the protocol, and you’d caught him by surprise. It was hubris, to name the protocol that, and I knew it, but even back then, I just couldn’t help myself when it came to you. It wasn’t anything I thought you’d ever learn about, so there was no harm in it, right?

The hours pass as I continue to read about him sneaking into poker nights and hiding it from me, so I couldn’t force my brothers to un-invite him and thereby cut off his source of inside information on me. I smirk when I read about the first time we danced the tango together, and eventually the way he felt we begun to drift apart involuntarily when Valeria returned home, his focus on her safety and wiping out any threats to her. I’d remembered then, that I wasn’t the kind of guy you would ever be with, but I kept pretending, kept deluding myself into thinking that I could be. He never even suspected that I was jealous. It didn’t even occur to him at all, judging by the several pages he wrote about trying to figure out what he’d done to deserve a stink bomb being sent to his office after the first I’d seen him with Valeria, and the way he tried to keep me from distancing myself, only to eventually decide that it’d be for the best.

My heart hammers in my chest as I read about the way he approached my grandmother, and eventually our marriage. It’s so special to read about the way he couldn’t quite believe it when I’d begun to fall for him. It’s an unreal experience, and it makes it hurt so much more to read about the fears he couldn’t shake off after I was taken, the endless nightmares, and the way he couldn’t pull himself out of his head when he woke up, fear reeling him in throughout the day, even when I told him he was breaking my heart. His writing makes it clear he tried his best to control his mind, only to continuously feel like it was failing him. It hurts to read how much he was suffering, and how his nightmares made him unable to look at me without feeling like he was slowly suffocating me, my life draining away because of him. I knew it wasn’t true, that it was all in my head, but I was too scared and ashamed to tell you just how bad things had gotten, because I was just so sure that if I did, I’d lose you forever. I thought I’d get better eventually, and it’d be like things had never changed. Ironic, isn’t it, that it was that exact thought process that led us here? As if that wasn’t bad enough, I’d once again become scared to say the wrong thing and put you at risk like I’d done with Valeria, because that wasn’t just an irrational fear anymore, it was a likely possibility, and your life wasn’t something I’d ever risk.

I inhale shakily and try my best not to cry as I continue to read about his struggles, and my grandmother’s funeral, the divorce papers, the way he’d begun to come to my house every day in hopes that we’d work things out, fighting his own fears every single day, until eventually, I find myself reading about today, and the way he felt during the meeting. I’d been trying so hard not to look at him that I couldn’t focus, and I hadn’t even been looking at Graham. I’d been trying to stare at the screen behind him. I think back to the guilt he thought he saw on my face, and I sigh when I realize what happened. His note had reminded me of the day he’d mentioned, when Graham wanted go to a bistro nearby and Xavier’d gotten jealous. I’d been been worried my husband would find out about my dinner plans, and he’d misunderstand, which he did.

I’m oddly scared when I finally get to the last page, not wanting the story to end and unsure what I’ll find. This story… it’s one I was certain would end in the words, ‘and they lived happily ever after’, but instead, you’ll always be the one that got away. The thing is, I should’ve tried harder, should never have given up on the only woman I’ve ever loved… but what else could I do when you’d begun to look at another man the way you used to look at me? Your happiness is all I’ve ever wanted, even if it’s at the cost of mine. You deserve to be happy with the man of your own choosing, and I should never have gotten in your way. My selfishness cost you so much, and there’s nothing I can do to make that right, but this I can do — I’ll let you go, even if it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, even if I’ll regret it for a million years and a day.

I love you, Sierra. Thank you for allowing me to experience real happiness for the first time in my life, even if it didn’t last. I’ll never regret you, Kitten. You will always be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Sixty-Eight

Xavier

I sigh when I hear heels clicking behind me, expecting my mother to walk into my living room like she’s done every day for the last week, just to scold me until I showered and ate. “Saved you the hassle,” I say, refusing to get up and face her. “I showered not long ago, and I ate something sometime today. I don’t remember what, but I remember doing it, so please, just leave me be today.” I’ve been sitting here ever since I got out the shower, somehow just not having had the energy to get dressed or do anything else.

Everything in my house reminds me of Sierra — especially my soap, and it’d just been too much. I’d stood there as I remembered the times she’d get in the shower with me, and I’d soap up her body, touching her suggestively as I pretended to clean her body thoroughly. She’s giggle, until her laughter turned into moans, and then she’d breathe my name in the moments before she’d come. Knowing I’d never get the experience that again was too much to bear, and I’d walked out of the shower and sat down on the sofa with nothing but my towel on, my body still dripping wet.

“I can… I can come back another day if now isn’t a good time. I’m sorry, I should’ve called.”

I rise to my feet in a rush and turn around, certain my mind is playing tricks on me. “Sierra.”

She smiles shakily, her gaze roaming over my body as she takes in how wet my skin still is, her cheeks flushing. I stand there, frozen as her eyes follow a drop of water running down from my neck, to my chest and abs, until it disappears against my towel.

My wife walks around the sofa, and my eyes drop to the book she’s holding, the one I wrote for her. “I came to return this,” she says, looking down at it.

My heart wrenches painfully, and I swallow hard as I follow her gaze. There’s one part of the story I omitted — just one. I’d started writing it because I’d planned to propose again on our one year wedding anniversary. The last few pages were meant to be all about how I’d give her the book and I’d watch her read it, mentally documenting all her smiles and little squeals as she reads, something I’ve really come to love doing. I’d sit with her in our library, until she got to the part where she’s reading all about how I got down on one knee in our front of her, and she’d have frowned, knowing that never happened, and then she’d have gasped when I do it in real life. I’d tell her, ‘the way this story currently ends is fictional, but I want nothing more than to make it our reality. I know I don’t compare to the heroes you read about, but I will never stop trying to make your wildest dreams come true’. I had it all memorized, spent months working on what I’d say. This was supposed to become her new favorite book, our story her favorite of all. Now it’s one she doesn’t even want to hold on to.

I reach for it wordlessly, but she pulls it to her chest, keeping it out of my reach. “The ending sucked,” she tells me, and my eyes meet hers. “So I rewrote it.”

“What?”

Her hands tremble as she hands it to me, and I stare at it for a few seconds, scared of what I’ll find. I’m tempted to stretch out this moment, desperately wishing I could stay here forever, in the unknown, where I don’t have to acknowledge that we’re truly over. “Read it,” she whispers.

I reluctantly flip the book open and navigate to the last few pages, the ones I’d left blank. Underneath my last sentence, in her handwriting, it reads: this isn’t how The Story of Us ends. It’s just one arc of our lives, the first real hardship we had to overcome as a couple. We nearly failed, you and I. We failed to understand each other, failed to communicate despite the promises we made, but we’ll learn from it, won’t we? This book is proof of it, of how far you and I had come together, before we let our efforts go to waste.

So here I am, offering you an alternate ending. Our story has veered off course, but what if we just rewrite it together? I still love you, Xavier Kingston, and you’re still the only man I’ve ever wanted, the only one I’ve ever loved. That kind of love is worth fighting for, so here I am, asking you if you’re willing to be vulnerable with me, to acknowledge the pain we’ve both caused and start healing with me.

After all, ‘Happily Ever After’ isn’t a moment, it’s a choice, one we must make over and over again, every single day. It’s a commitment to each other, a promise to keep working toward happiness, to never take it for granted or forsake it in favor of our fears and insecurities. Let’s uphold our vows, Xavier. Let’s honor the promises we made. Let’s rewrite this ending, together.

“I left some space at the end,” she says, her voice breaking. “Maybe someday, we can add a few sentences.” My wife looks at me with so much hope in her eyes, and my eyes never leave hers as I put the book down and reach for her.

Her breath hitches when I thread my hand through her hair and pull her closer, my forehead dropping to hers, her arms moving around my neck. “There is nothing I won’t do to rewrite our ending,” I tell her, my voice breaking. “I love you so much, Sierra. There’s nothing I won’t do for another chance with you.”

Her hand moves up my nape, into my hair, and then her lips come crashing against mine. I groan as I pull her against me, savoring her taste, and the feel of her. I’ll never take this for granted again. I’ll never forsake her. “I’ll never let you go again,” I whisper against her lips, grateful to have her here in my arms. There’s nothing I won’t do to ensure her happiness, nothing I won’t do to make sure she turns out to be right, and this’ll be just one arc in our story, one we’ll learn from and never repeat.

Sixty-Nine

Sierra

I lean back in my car as I wait for Xavier to finish his therapy session, my eyes glued to my e-reader. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I went to his house with The Story of Us in hand. Having read his words, I knew we deserved one more chance, but I wasn’t sure what it’d mean in practice. Would it be one of those things we say and promise, but don’t deliver on? Would things be okay for a little while, only for time to cast its wicked curse, making us forget all about our commitments as we slipped back into our comfort zones?

I’d been scared to trust, and Xavier proved all of my fears wrong. I thought he’d been committed to me before, but the way he’s been behaving from the moment I came home has exceeded all of my expectations. He decided to go to therapy to overcome some of the scars from his past, and I’ve been driving him there once a week, enjoying sitting in the car with my book for an hour, after which he takes me out for lunch.

Though he can’t be fully honest during his sessions, therapy has been working better for him than I could’ve hoped, and it helped him not spiral when Elijah nearly failed to foil an attack on Valeria last month. She stopped hiding after Grandma’s funeral, where she was photographed extensively, and as expected, it resulted in an increased amount of attempted violence toward us all. I didn’t know until recently, but in the years she stayed hidden, Valeria wiped out every criminal organization she’d learned about during her time in captivity, leaving behind a Queen of Spades playing card every time. Her list of enemies is longer than those of all her brothers combined, but she seems entirely unfazed by it.

My phone rings, and I look up in surprise when I see Valeria’s name flash across my screen. “I was just thinking about you,” I tell her, grinning to myself.

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