Page 2 of Ruthless Love

One thing I haven't done? Take Cain off my friend's list. Maybe I should, but I'm not ready to let go. Which probably says more about how I feel regarding the situation he and I find ourselves in than anything else. Just when I think I'm ready to let go, something happens that pulls me back in.

There's a picture of him with two guys from the Sheriff's department. They're all grinning at the camera, holding up fish. He's never been a fisherman, but I guess, like me, he's trying new things. I try not to look at the way his shorts ride low on his hips. There's no shirt covering his body. I loved every inch of this man until he no longer felt like I knew him.

But as I look at him now? I'm thinking I might want to get to know the man he's become. It's possible that while I was changing, he was too, and together we didn't keep up.

TWO

CAIN

"Why don'tyou go talk to her? She's still your wife."

It seems so easy, and I wish more than anything that it was. I glance over at my partner, Wyatt, and sigh heavily. "She doesn't want to hear from me. I'm the last person she wants to talk to."

"How would you know? When was the last time you talked to her?" He questions, hooking his thumb back toward her store.

I tilt my head back against the seat and close my eyes, thinking back to the night that changed our relationship forever. "The night she left is the last time I talked to her."

"What? It's been almost six months?"

Right at. I'm not proud of it, but I'd rather not answer to my partner when I can't even answer to my wife. "Yeah."

He doesn't press, but whistles loudly. "Y'all have been married for twelve years. Can't believe you'd be willing to give it up so easily."

He’s exaggerating. It’s been six. I grip the steering wheel. None of this is easy. We've dated since we were sixteen, got married at twenty, thought we'd spend the rest of our damn lives together. Yet, here we are. "Yeah, well, sometimes you grow together, sometimes you grow apart." That's what I've been telling myself since all of this started.

"It's still a shame." Wyatt shakes his head. "Never thought it would be the two of you."

I didn't either, but life is fucking full of surprises.

Three hourslater I'm at home, eating dinner. It's a bowl of cereal, that's what I've been having since Marissa left. I can't bring myself to cook for one, which probably says more about me than anything else. My laptop is in front of me, and I try to talk myself out of what I'm about to do. But life's short, and I've already spent far too much time fucking around.

I log into my laptop and pull up the Facebook feed for Enchanted Pages. Instead of logging in as myself, I use my fake account so that my wife doesn't know I'm watching her. This is the only time I get to see her. Well, that's not entirely true. If I walked into Enchanted Pages, she'd talk to me. She's polite to a fault. One thing I always told her she should stop. I encouraged her to stand up for herself, and wouldn't you know it? She turned it around on me.

"Hey everyone." Her smiling face greets. "I'm waiting to see who all hops on."

She looks amazing. So sure of herself. She never looked this way the last few years of our marriage. I had even noticed that she tried to make herself smaller at all times, including around me. I should've admitted I knew, but I didn't. I couldn't bring myself to do it, because that would mean I would have to admit I was also part of the problem.

"Okay." She laughs. "I'm trying to see the comments, but my phone is being weird. Lemme go grab my iPad, that way I can try to do both at once. I hope everyone is having a good night. I just ate the best salad and sandwich from Dirty Thirty. For thoseof you not from here, it's actually a health food restaurant, even though it sounds like a club. Okay, here we go. I can see everyone now."

Her blue eyes are bright, as she recognizes the names. She says hello to a bunch of them, including the fake profile I'm using. I hate being here under false pretenses, but she and I haven't been able to see eye to eye on anything since we started the divorce proceedings. No matter how badly I want to go into her store and talk to her, I can't put myself out there like that. I'm afraid she'll tell me to leave as soon as I step foot in there.

"Right, Megan?" she's saying. "I know. That one is super spicy. If you have a significant other, or something else," she winks. "Make sure it's charged and ready for action."

My cock hardens, and I groan loudly. I've never known her to talk like that, although I'd wanted her to. Only a handful of times in our marriage did she ever initiate sexual contact. I loved it, but she never felt comfortable, and I didn't want to make her uncomfortable. I believed I was doing the right thing, but now I wonder if I was setting us up for failure.

"Okay, so I got my hands on some of the special editions with the embossed covers and sprayed edges. They are gorgeous." She shows the book she's holding.

My eyes go to her fingers, where her nails are painted a muted black. Another difference from when we were happily married. She never had anything on her nails, much less a color so bold as black. Many would argue that black isn't bold, but for someone like Marissa? It's a definite statement, one I think that is more in line with the woman she's always been on the inside. Now the outside is matching how she's been feeling.

I can't help it. I have to speak to her again. "What's your favorite book?" I put the question out, not sure if she'll see it and answer. There are close to four-hundred people in this chat.

"My favorite book?" She has an impish smirk on her face. "Do I really want to admit to you all how spicy I like my books?"

Everyone is in the comments egging her on. "Yes..." I answer, not able to help it.

"Okay. My favorite book is For The Fans..."

"OMG Marissa, you read that?"

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