Page 32 of Dirty Rotten Cheating Husband

Grayson was a train-sized asshole with a crew cut who barely grinned, let alone laughed.

I was so much better off now.

Liam bent to kiss me hello as he always did, and I made sure to lean into it, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him deeply, teasing him with my tongue so he’d kiss me hard back.

Grayson looked like he wanted to vomit or throttle Liam, while my boyfriend seemed totally impervious as he went to put his beer in the cold fridge.

“There is no way you are seriously about that gurgling dickhead,” he said incredulously.

I enjoyed the grim set look to Grayson’s jaw.

“If you don’t like who I invite over, you’re free to go,” I reminded him.

“I’m not leaving you,” he reminded me.

What the fuck. What was it going to take?

Liam was a local musician, very sweet and easygoing.

“And who is this?” he asked, sticking his hand out to Grayson as he came back in the room.

Liam was not the jealous type, unlike my ex, who looked sick with envy, and he had a friendly interest in the news that there was an FBI agent living in-house.

“FBI, eh?” he asked. “Nice to meet you, man. Damn, what a kick to get free protection, baby! And is this the first time you two have met?

Grayson’s eyes sharpened as he glared at me.

“You haven’t told him you have an ex-husband?” he asked me sternly.

“I don’t have an ex-husband,” I shot back. “The wedding was fake, remember? It wasn’t legal.”

“Seems like the kind of thing you should disclose in a serious relationship,” Grayson countered, like he had scored a point.

“Liam, this is the FBI agent who stalked me for two years and is back to stalking me now,” I said in a tight voice.

That should shut Grayson up.

“Shhiiiittt,” Liam said in his leisurely way. “It’s like a fucking Lifetime movie, babe.”

Grayson’s face looked like chipped granite, and I could feel him fighting to keep his eyebrows down from his hairline.

“Ah well, no hard feelings,” Liam continued cheerfully.

Plenty of hard feelings, I thought angrily, but didn’t say anything, biting back the retort that he didn’t get it.

Liam was just like that. A real freewheeling sweetheart.

Sometimes too much of a freewheeler. We’d been dating for over two years now, after meeting at one of the first plays I had been involved in, with no indication he had any interest in getting married and having kids. He was perfectly happy still to live in his tiny apartment above the coffee shop, playing Friday night concerts here and sometimes with his band the Friskitones in the city.

My tentative attempts to bring up babies had been rather vaguely brushed past.

Still, he was a good boyfriend. Kind and attentive, supportive and uncomplicated.

Exactly what I needed after Grayson’s shattering betrayal.

For a few years after the trial, I didn’t think I was going to make it, living in leaky basement apartments and delivering pizzas in the shitty part of town. I’d almost been robbed twice, was sick of the smell of pizza, but I finished my graduate costume design project, and miraculously it was good enough to get noticed by the big city theaters.

But I didn’t want to live in the big city. First of all, it was way too goddamn close to the courthouse I’d gone to every single day of Dad’s trial. I didn’t want to see the reminder of Grayson’s betrayal every day for work.

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