Page 16 of Sins and Secrets

Uri’s right, I don’t have forever to waste on Adam. I need to fix this mistake and if I’m being honest, I don’t know how happy Adam is either. So boom. Decision made. I’m doing this for him, fixing a mistake. And it’s for my own good because there’s no real future for me with Adam. I’ve never imagined marrying him, or having kids with him. Hell, I don’t even want to get a pet with him because his plant care skills are dubious at best.

It’s the right decision, but it feels gross.

I need to leave Adam. It's only a few weeks until the wedding. The last thing I want to do is ruin the most important day of Angie’s life with extra drama. No, we can have one last nice night and then while Angie’s on her honeymoon, I’ll break up with her twin brother. Moving him out is going to be a nightmare. Ugh, but I better get labels so he doesn’t try to take something that’s mine.

The little planner in me loves this.

On the drive home, I swing by Target to get some labels for packing, plus a few necessary candles, candy and a little stuffed cow I got in the clearance section. I’m doing grown up shit- I deserve a treat.

For the first time in a while, I feel free and focused.

With a plastic Target bag around my wrist, I walk into my two story condo, and I instantly feel like something’s off. Very off.

The shower’s running and there are muffled voices coming from that direction. Maybe Adam’s listening to a podcast or something.I open my mouth to call out, but shut it quickly.

Rule one to survival: never announce your arrival.

My blood runs cold when I notice my last sparkling black cherry water sitting on the table. And next to it is last season’s Michael Kors purse.

It's a cute one I've had my eye on.

But it's not mine.

Peeking inside, I find a wallet, a cell phone, a plethora of receipts, and car keys.

Also not mine.

The muffled voices become moans, drifting to my ears from upstairs. Adam's grunts are added to a second voice, female, crying out, “Yes!”

That's not me. I am definitely standing in my kitchen.

I don’t know who she is, but I already hate the bitch. Although, since she's fucking Adam, maybe the punishment fits the crime?

Nope.

I take her cellphone and place it on the table before I pour the rest ofmyblack cherry water into her purse. I'm not a monster.

I AM pissed as hell.

My family always said I walked up the stairs like I was wearing elephants on my feet. I still don’t understand the image at all, because now I’m stalking like a ninja. Three years of mediocre sex and ever growing self doubt comes crashing in.

Her bra lays on the floor—teal with a little bow. It would be cute if it wasn’t onmyfloor.

I pound on the bathroom door. “Hey, Babe!”

There’s a flurry of activity, definitely some sliding on the tile, a fumble, and a crash. He whispers, “Shit.” It’s taking longer than it should. Of course, he is trying to hide his little fuck bunny.

A few seconds later, he opens the door wide enough to pop his head out, his wet hair flat against his skull. “Hey! You’re home early.” He’s all fake smiles.

“Why don’t you come out here?” I ask. He swallows and nods before shutting the door. A minute later, he exits the bathroom, leaving the least amount of space possible for him to slide out. At least he’s wrapped himself in a towel.

“What’s up, hon?” He grabs my wrists, holding them low and dangerously close to the opening of the towel.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?” I ask, no hint of amusement or anger. One opportunity for the truth.

He squeezes my wrists and flashes me his ‘baby, I love you’ smile. “I’m happy to see you.”

“Uh huh. Who’s bra is that?” My eyes drift to the teal cups on the floor.

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