Page 59 of Wes

On the screen, a video shows this woman blowing a dark-haired man as Wes fucks her from behind. I blink the tears away and my heart sighs in relief.

“Good try.” I smirk, handing her the phone. “This is old. Logan’s hair was still long, and Wes’s was way short.”

She ignores my hand and sneers. “Keep going.”

I slide the video to the left and the next photos squeeze my heart until it stutters.

“We reconnected in Boston, before their last concert. These were taken last week here in San Francisco. See what he’s wearing?”

Fuck! Wes smiles into the camera, an arm draped around the brunette’s neck. He had on the fucking jacket I bought for him in Brazil. The colorful macaw logo screams at me from the screen and my soul wails.

20

WES

The restroom door flies open, hitting the wall with a bang. A distraught Maria rushes past me like a whirlwind, or like all hounds from hell are at her heels.

I take off after her, catching up at the sidewalk. I hold her wrist, “Hey, what happened in there?”

She yanks her arm free; her eyes scorch me with their flaming rage. “Keep your paws off me, you cheating son of a bitch.”

If a ten-wheeler ran me over, I would probably feel less squashed than I do now. I take a step back as my brain runs different scenarios, trying to understand what has set her off.

Someone has obviously gotten to her with some bullshit about me just to get this exact reaction from her. I shove both hands into my hair, pressing the sides of my skull, watching her fumble with her purse. My mind flips an imaginary Rolodex of former sex partners trying to find a viable suspect.

“Fuck!” I mumble under my breath. There’s just too many to pinpoint one, or a dozen.

This is going nowhere, and Maria has found her cell phone. Camera flashes go off around us, the bright lights bounce off the black sequins of her long-sleeve top. She shoves the phone into the back pocket of her jeans and crosses the lapels of her white wool coat in front of her, hugging her waist.

Drooping her shoulders as if to protect herself from the icy breeze, she pierces me with a hard stare. “How could you do that to me, to us?” Her voice breaks, shattering my heart. She shakes her head multiple times and when I open my mouth to ask what she means, she raises a hand in the air. “Don’t insult my intelligence. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

I slap my thighs as desperation grips my chest squeezing it until I can’t breathe. I scoff, glancing around as if I could find the key to her riddle somewhere other than us. Bystanders hold their phones pointed at us. I don’t give a rat’s ass if they record the whole thing and publish all over the place. My only focus is getting some sense into Maria’s head without ticking her further.

I raise my hands in surrender and try to reason with her. “I get it. Someone showed you something that looked bad.”

“You think?” She retrieves her phone and unlocks the screen. Eyes glued to whatever she’s texting, she adds, “Don’t ever use that patronizing tone with me again, asshole. I’m not a toddler you have to convince to eat their veggies.”

As her chest heaves, I realize her rage is growing. I can’t argue my case without knowing what the hell it was that she saw. And what in fuck’s name she thinks she knows.

I take a couple of deep breaths to calm my own demons down. I need to think clearly here.

“Maria, what exactly did you see?”

She drops her phone inside her designer purse, wrapping her fingers around the golden chain hanging from her shoulder, she juts her chin up. Despite the defiance in that gesture, it’s the profound disappointment in her blue eyes that razes me.

“Ms. Claire Williams was so kind to show me a video and some pictures on her phone.” She pauses as if for effect, but the hard swallow bobbing in her throat tells me otherwise. “You star in all of them. The ones from last week really caught my attention because you two were snuggling up against the cold weather of San Francisco.”

Relief washes over me. “That’s a stinking pile of horse manure.” Holding the little finger of my left hand, I list my reasons. “One, I’ve got no clue who this person is. I have to be honest, I might have met her at some point in my life but I don’t know her.” I stress the last two words to get my meaning across.

Epic fail.

Maria huffs. “I’ve no doubt it’s hard for you to keep track of all of your women, huh?”

Her sarcastic remark punched me in the gut. I gasp for air.

She hugs her midriff tighter and looks over my shoulder at some spot up the street as if searching for someone. She must have summoned her driver with that text. I’m running out of time.

“Two, and really the most important point I’m trying to make, I haven’t cheated on you.” I enunciate each word as if they slashed me because they do. Just the thought that she believes I’m capable of doing that makes my stomach churn. I shake my head to get rid of the queasiness as well as to deny her allegations. “They were old pictures for sure. There’s no other explanation.”

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