Page 69 of Tangled Vows

There were three separate links from gossip sites attached to the thread. I clicked on the first and nearly dropped my phone when I read the headline: “Newly wedded Easton Walker caught with another woman: Is the honeymoon over already?” Below that were several photos of Easton with a tall, willowy blonde. In the first, her hand was splayed across his back while he leaned against the bar, his head turned to the side as he peered down at her. The second was a shot of them standing face-to-face, her fingers curled around his bicep and his hand covering hers. Another showed them leaving the bar together, his hand on her back. The last photo of them stole my breath, and nausea churned in my gut. They stood less than a foot apart, her staring up at him adoringly with her palms pressed against his chest. The same chest I fell asleep on only a few nights ago. The chest that rumbled with laughter every time I had a snarky comeback for something ridiculous he’d said.

The chest that had pressed against my bare breasts as he’d taken me in the shower, my legs wrapped around his trim hip while he thrust into me, his eyes never leaving mine.

I expected I’d have to see him with another woman one day, but not while we were still married and not so soon after having him inside me. Bile rose in my throat, and like a glutton for punishment, I closed out of that article and clicked on the next. It was the same series of photos with a different headline. “Who is Easton Walker’s Boston Mistress?” The third was titled, “Richmond’s Walker Still Hockey’s Biggest Playboy Despite Being Married.” It had one extra photo the others didn’t. It was an image of the blonde woman following Easton to the elevators.

Like they were about to go up to his room.

That was the image that broke me. He was taking another woman to his bed. He was about to give her a piece of himself that I thought was only reserved for me. Who was she, and whywas he willing to throw away what we had for a single night with her?

I scrolled back to the previous photos and studied them more closely. The photo of her with her hands on Easton’s chest was taken from an angle where I could make out some of her features. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite place where I knew her from.

The blood froze in my veins, and my heart stopped when it finally came to me. The high cheekbones, delicate features, and long blonde waves. The pretty young woman was Jessica Danvers, Easton’s former coach’s wife.

That day, after he proposed our marriage of convenience, I’d Googled her out of pure curiosity. She looked exactly like his type, and I’d felt a twinge of jealousy then. It was nothing compared to how I felt now.

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I jumped. Easton’s name flashed across my screen. Panicked, I sent it straight to voicemail. A moment later, it dinged, alerting me to a new voice message. I hadn’t listened to any of the others yet, but I could guess what they were about.

With trembling fingers, I pressed play and brought my phone to my ear. My breath caught when his pained voice came over the line.

“Shayla, baby, please answer your phone. I-I can explain. It’s not what you think. Please, I just need to talk to you.” My chin quivered as I listened to his pleading. He sounded broken and apologetic.

Just like how my dad sounded every time he’d cheated on my mom. That was, until the last time when he left her for his secretary. Was that what it would be like with Easton? A revolving door of infidelity followed by hollow apologies until he found someone to replace me?

No, that wasn’t how this would go. I would never stand by and let a man disrespect me like that. What happened to his promise to honor our vows? And that had been before we were ever intimate.

I doubled over, gripping my middle as the sobs broke loose. The pain was too much. This was only supposed to be temporary, but I’d gone and fallen in love with my husband.

Makenna rushed to my side and pulled me into her arms. “I’m so sorry, Shay.” She held me as I cried. I tried to be quiet so I didn’t wake my mom. She didn’t need to see me like this. I needed to pull it together so I could be there for her.

“Are you going to call him?” Makenna asked hesitantly.

“I can’t talk to him right now,” I admitted, my voice cracking. I’d never be able to hold it together long enough to have a conversation with him.

“You might want to text him. If you don’t, he’s just going to keep calling.” She nodded toward my phone where it vibrated on the table, his name lit up on the screen again. I let it go this time, holding my breath until it stopped buzzing. Then I opened our text thread and typed out a message.

Me: I can’t talk right now. Mom’s in the hospital. She’s really sick.

Easton: I’m so sorry. I wish I could be there. I wish we could talkface-to-face. I hope you know I would never cheat on you. This is all amisunderstanding.

A misunderstanding? He’d been photographed with another woman, one who knew him intimately. There was no denying how … cozy they’d looked. He was sorely mistaken if he thought I would fall for whatever BS he planned on feeding me.

I couldn’t deal with this right now. My mom’s life was in jeopardy. My fake husband cheating on me would have to take a back seat to keeping my mom alive.

Me: We can talk once you’re home. Right now, I need to focus on mymom.

I hit send and exited out of my messages. Then I set my phone to do not disturb so I wouldn’t be tempted to answer if he called again.

49

EASTON

Iwanted to hit something.

Or cry.

Or scream. Anything that would relieve this pressure building in my chest.

But more than anything, I wanted to talk to my wife, to hold her and tell her how sorry I was for putting her through all this. It didn’t matter that I’d done nothing wrong. My past mistakes had come back to haunt me, and she was hurting because of it. I could tell by the tone of her texts. They lacked her usual playful banter and cutting wit. They were straight forward and business-like. That was what she did when she wanted to hide her true feelings, and I couldn’t stand the thought that she wanted to hide from me.

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