Page 83 of The Seven Month Itch
“Listen, I’m happy that you two want to protect me, but he doesn’t need to come over here.” Not withthatweapon. “Terrence isn’t back yet, and he and I need to talk.”
The distant sound of a door slam informs me I’m too late. The Hulk is on his way. Fitting, when you consider Tony Stark’s relationship with him. I clutch my phone and head for the hall. Emma’s house isn’t far, which means Miles will be here in lessthan ten minutes. The front door opens before my toes hit the landing. “Terrence is here,” I say in a whisper.
“Keep me on the phone. I got your back.”
Emma stays silent on my descent downstairs. I manage to walk without so much as a creak on the hardwood steps. Maybe I was an assassin in a past life. I turn off the video on my approach to not make Em want to vomit like I have to right now. If ever I needed my best friend free of headaches and nausea, today is the day.
Terrence tosses his keys on the kitchen counter. His back is to me, and his head is down glued to his phone. I’m too far away to get a glimpse of what has his attention. He puts it down and runs his fingers through his hair. His hands brace the exotic marble on a sigh.
I go back on camera and flip the view for Emma to see him. She tilts her head and shrugs with the same confusion as me. We spar in whispers. She tells me to talk to him, and I tell her I’m not ready. Minutes pass before my phone buzzes with a text. I take in her wide eyes that lead me to my husband’s gaze. He steps back and covers his mouth with his hand. His eyes dart from his phone to mine like he summoned me from his thoughts. There’s a pained expression in his eyes.
He lifts his phone in the air. “I forgot to respond to your text last night. Sorry about that.”
Time to put words to my pain. To say how much he hurt meagain. Iwantto form them, but his stare keeps me frozen in place. If I didn’t already know something was wrong, the way his eyes bore into mine is a dead giveaway. He’s not the slightest bit curious why I’m here a week early? God only knows howmany nights he spent with other women. The idea of him living a double life makes me see red.
“I guess I don’t have to ask if you had a long night. Too much fun at the strip club?”
He shakes his head. “Didn’t go.” His tone registers on the lowest audible setting.
I cross my arms and laugh, careful to keep my phone up so Emma can have a front-row seat to the downfall of my marriage. “Of course. You don’t need to watch random women shake their asses in your face when you can stick your dick in your mistress.” Emotion takes over. I might burst into tears or punch him in his wayward penis. Both great options.
“Justice, what are you talking about?”
“I saw you on Sunset Boulevard last night. How long?”
He drops his head. The bastard can’t look me in the eyes.
My head shakes several times to fight back tears and the pain of his betrayal. “Howlong, Terrence?“ The echo of my scream bounces across the kitchen.
“You better answer her, dickhead, before I come over with a shotgun and two shovels!”
His head snaps up at Emma’s voice. “You have Em on the phone? Jesus, Justice. What happened to privacy between a husband and wife?”
“Emma never hurt me the way you have.”
He nods. “I deserve that.”
My lip trembles at his confession. So this is it?
“I can’t believe you. After everything,thisis how you want to end it?“ Tears burn my eyes. “I deserve more respect, but God only knows how many women you have across the world the second you go away on”—I use air quotes—“business.”
Quick, shallow breaths contort his face, as if he now realizes the error of his ways. He holds up his hands with wide eyes. “Wait a minute, baby. I don’t think you understand.”
“Oh, I understand fine. You are both an asshole and the biggest disappointment in my life.” He flinches at the stab of my words. I hope they twist straight into his heart. I pull off my engagement and wedding rings and hurl them at his chest. Our eyes fall to watch the once-prized possessions plummet to the floor with a thud. Terrence swallows hard, his eyes locked on the floor. “It’s over.”
“I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.” Those three words leave my lips on repeat as my feet take me up the stairs to pack my things. It’s a struggle to breathe.
“Yes, you will, sweetie,” Emma says from the phone. “Get your stuff and come over.”
Terrence grabs my waist to spin me around and steadies me in his grasp. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his chest heaves with the intensity of a man who sprinted a marathon. His eyes, wet with tears, meet mine. “Please let me explain.”
“You don’t have to sneak around anymore.” I make it up one step before he grabs my arm.
“It’s not what you think.” There’s a plea in his voice.
The ghost of a woman fed up with her husband’s shit possesses me. My legs deserve a high five and a handclap of praise for the steps I take up the staircase. They’re shaky, but I’m on the move.
“She’s not my mistress!” Terrence calls out. The only part of me this man will see from here on out is my back. “I would never cheat on you, Jay!”
