Page 103 of Whispers of Obsession

I try to speak again, but my voice fails me.

Instead, a sob wracks my whole body, and Slater’s expression immediately softens. He holds his arms wide, and I fly into them, grabbing hold of him like he’s my lifeline and crying into his shoulder.

“Sssh, I’m here now, Cora. I came back.”

He rubs soothing circles on my back, but it just makes me cry harder. I don’t deserve his kindness, his comfort. I fucked up. I deserve his wrath.

“Cora, it’s okay.”

“N-n-no it’s not!” I wail, completely falling apart in his arms. “I’m no better thanher.”

“Cora,” he says firmly, giving me a little shake and moving his hands to my shoulders so he can peel me off him and hold me at arms’ length. “You arenothinglike her. Don’t ever say that.Don’t even think it. Is that what you’ve been doing all week? Comparing yourself to her and beating yourself up?”

I don’t answer, but guilt has me chewing the inside of my cheek as I try to avoid his gaze.

“You made a mistake, okay. I needed some time…to process everything, but I’m here now.” I nod sadly, not believing that he’s truly back to stay. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

My heart thunders at his question. This is it. My chance to tell him. To confess my sins and those of the masked man. My throat tightens with nerves as I try to work up the courage to tell him.

“Cora?” His expression is patient, but his gaze is probing.

I can’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I called the bar and told them you were sick and couldn’t go in tonight. I just wanted us to have time to talk.”

Shame, twofold, washes over me. For manipulating him again by taking away his choice to work or not, and for sitting on my secret.

“I see.” Slater’s expression is tight, there’s a hardness in his eyes too. I look away, wrapping my arms around myself for comfort that he won’t give.

Slater sighs. “Did you even eat? You look so slim. Too slim.”

I consider his words, my head tilting to the side. I had a handful of dry cereal earlier, right out of the box, but I feel like confessing this to Slater will have the opposite effect of appeasing him. Beyond that…I can’t recall. WhendidI last eat a proper meal?

I shrug.

“Alright,” Slater says, disappointment clear in his tone. “That’s not healthy.” He takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen. “We’re going to cook something, then you’re going to eat, okay?”

I nod, feeling embarrassed by my lack of self-care. “I cooked for you today.” I open my mouth to tell him that I don’t like cooking for one, for myself, but then close it again. He’ll only lecture me, and besides, my stomach has been too knotted up with worry and regret to have much of an appetite.

As we plate up the simple dish I made for us and eat, the atmosphere is still heavy with tension, but there’s a different kind of energy in the air. It’s like we’re both acknowledging the hurt and betrayal, but also the love we still have for each other. The love isn’t damaged, it’s the trust that’s gone.

Once we’ve finished eating, I clean up and do the dishes. Slater tries to stop me, but I insist. It’s stupid, but my guilt is telling me I can prove to him how sorry I am by just doing everything and making myself his slave. When it comes to flight or fight response, in this case I’m defaulting to option three: fawn. If I bend over backward to make him happy, maybe we can get back to where we were.

Tears prick at my eyes as I scrub each dish, and I can feel Slater watching me. He doesn’t say anything, just stands in the kitchen doorway, observing me. I can feel his gaze on my back, and I want to crawl out of my skin under the weight of his expectations and my own wrongdoings.

Finally, he steps forward and wraps his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Cora. It’s just going to take some time,” he murmurs softly. “We’ll get through this, I promise.”

I nod against his chest, letting out a shaky breath. For the first time in what feels like ages, I believe him. Somehow, I know that we will make it through this, and I’m thankful that Slater is willing to give me another chance.

I decide to run a bath for Slater, like he did for me. I use some bath salts and even light some candles. I’m thinking when he’s done, maybe I can give him a massage or rub his feet orsomething. I don’t know. I don’t know how to apologize to a guy. All the books I read have the guys doing the grovelling, and I’m at a loss what I can do for him that doesn’t involve sex. Clearly, we’re not going to be doingthatfor a long time.

While Slater’s relaxing in the tub - he didn’t invite me to join him or stay, and I didn’t ask or offer - I find his duffle bag in the hallway. I should ask him where he’s been, but I don’t think I could bear the pain of hearing he’s been with another woman. I prefer to live in hypocritical denial.

Instead, I decide to do his laundry for him. Crouching down, I unzip the bag, and my heart sinks at the sight before me. There, lying on top of his neatly folded clothes, is the last thing I expected to see.

My hands shake as I pick it up, examining it closer.

This isn’t happening.

I should never have opened his bag.

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