Page 31 of From Our First

I didn’t know who the asshole was, but now he was a witness to whatever travesty was happening, and I honestly wanted to punch his smarmy little face.

“The photos that you showed me of Myra with her boyfriend. Those were fake, weren’t they?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

“Again, what photos?” Myra whispered. “You showed him pictures of Alexander and me?” Myra asked. “How could you do that? What did you…?Whywould you think that’s okay? Where did you get them? Youfakedphotos?”

Her mother sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and gestured around the room. “It seems we have a lot to talk about. And I’m not going to stand here without a drink in my hand. Since you never were good at making me a martini, I guess we’re going to sit and hash this out, and then I’m going to go and get a drink.”

“No, you’re going to explain what the fuck is going on. Right now,” I growled, trying to keep my voice smooth—it wasn’t happening.

“You don’t get to use those words with me,” her father said coolly.

Myra snarled. “I will deal with Nate later, but right now, he’s allowed to say whatever the fuck he wants to say.”

“Apparently, we’re all going to curse now,” her mother grumbled, sighing before draping herself dramatically in an armchair.

“You were too young to get married,” her father began. “You were eighteen years old, Myra. You had no right to go behind our backs and marry this white trash piece of shit with no future.”

“You’re going to want to be very careful about how you speak to me and how you speak to your daughter.”

“Are you threatening me?” her father asked, his eyes narrowed.

“I should be the one threatening you,” Myra shot back. “I was eighteen years old, as you said. An adult. You had no right to stand in my way.”

“You were achild.” Her mother sighed. “You went off to Vegas and married a little boy who didn’t know what he wanted.”

“You’re going to want to stop talking about me in that way,” I said, my voice deceptively calm and casual.

“And what are you going to do about it?” her father asked.

I took a breath. “I want answers, and then you’re going to leave.”

I looked over at Myra, knowing that I needed to say something to her. She deserved so much more than what I had given her.

I was trying to keep up.

She hadn’t cheated on me.

I had lost the best thing in my life because I was a fucking idiot and didn’t question what I was told.

I’d wanted to latch onto whatever truth I was dealt, and I had ruined everything.

There was no way she would ever forgive me.

I hadn’t given her a chance to explain.

I had worked hard for so many years, trying to decide if I could ever forgive her. And in the end, I was the one who needed forgiveness.

Dear God, she should hate me forever.

No wonder I felt as if she already did.

Her mother waved her hand. “You came out here on my mother’s whim.”

“The mother you never told me died.” Myra’s voice broke.

I frowned but didn’t interrupt. Not yet.

“Again with the hysterics, Myra? For the love of God, just stop it. You were eighteen. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

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