Page 19 of Love on the Edge
Silence.
She looks at me. Waiting for me to correct her. Waiting for me to say something—anything—that will make this better.
I don’t.
"Fuck!" The panic isn’t just in her voice now—it’s all over her face. Wide eyes. Uneven breathing. Hands curling into fists. She’s spiraling.
"Okay, okay, calm down, Valeria," I say, keeping my voice low, steady.
She laughs, but it’s sharp, humorless and frantic. "How am I supposed to calm down? I slept with someone’s husband!"
I watch her carefully, my own chest feeling tighter now. She doesn’t deserve this guilt.
"You weren’t wearing a ring," she mutters, more to herself than to me. Then she looks up, right at me, her voice quieter but heavier. "I didn’t think I needed to ask."
A pause. Then, softer—not just angry this time, but betrayed. "Why didn’t you tell me you were married?"
I exhale, jaw clenching for a second before I meet her gaze. "Because I’m not. Okay, technically I am, but I’m not," I say, my voice tight.
Valeria folds her arms, jaw set. "What does that even mean?"
"It’s a long story."
She doesn’t miss a beat. "I have time. And you owe me the explanation."
I exhale sharply. Fine. She wants answers? She’s getting them.
"Margo is my wife. She wanted to tour with her old band. She promised it would only be a couple of months and that she’d call, but she stopped calling. It’s been a year. I haven’t heard from her. My daughter hasn’t heard from her. So I filed for divorce. She was served with the papers. Now I’m just waiting for her to sign them. It’s been over for a long time. Yeah, I’m married, but I’m doing everything I can to end that."
Valeria doesn’t move. She just stares, expression unreadable.
Then—her voice sharpens. "So what? Your wife leaves to go fulfill her dreams, and you just move on? Just like that?"
My jaw tightens. That’s not how it was. "I didn’t move on just like that, and she didn’t leave just to fulfill her dreams. It’s more complicated than that." I try to keep my voice steady, but I already know it’s a losing battle.
Valeria’s laugh is sharp, biting. "Could’ve fooled me. Seems like you moved on pretty easily."
The air shifts between us. Hotter. Heavier.
I feel my patience slipping, my pulse kicking up. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing, but there’s no cruelty in them—just sharpness, just doubt. "Then tell me I’m wrong."
I don’t.
Instead, I step in closer, my voice lower now. "This is sounding less and less like someone who had a one-night stand and more like someone who wants something more."
Her eyes snap to mine, sharp as a blade. "You’re delusional."
"Am I?" I challenge, watching her closely now, watching the way she tenses, the way her breath catches before she locks it down. "Because you sure as hell care a lot for someone who’s trying so hard to stay detached."
Her jaw clenches, her breath unsteady. "I have no pity for cheaters. Nor would I ever have feelings for one."
That hits. So fucking hard I see red.
She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get it at all. It’s like she’s already decided what’s true, and nothing I say is going to change that.
I should stop. I should walk away. But something about her—about the way she’s looking at me, like she’s better than me, like I’m nothing—makes me want to hit back harder. I want her to hurt the way I do. I want her to feel it.
