Page 9 of The Anniversary Betrayal
His answer came in the form of another kiss, rougher this time, needier. The dam had broken. They tumbled toward the bedroom, shedding layers of restraint with each step. Her blouse unbuttoned under his hands. His shirt slipped over his head. The feel of her skin against his made his knees weak. Every touch felt like both a betrayal and a homecoming.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” Rebecca murmured as his lips traced the curve of her neck.
But he couldn’t because the truth was, he did. More than he wanted to admit. The night unfolded in a blur of heat and whispered names. Their bodies moved with the desperate familiarity of people who had once known each other intimately, then been forced apart for too long. It wasn’t just lust but it was years of suppressed desire crashing into the present, unstoppable and all-consuming.
After, when they finally collapsed against the sheets, the room still heavy with the scent of their passion, Kingston stared at the ceiling, his chest tight. Rebecca curled into him, her hand resting lightly on his chest. For a moment, it felt almost natural. Almost like this wasn’t the biggest mistake of his life but then Ashley’s face flickered in his mind and guilt hit him like a blade to the gut.
He lay awake long after Rebecca had fallen asleep beside him. Every detail burned into his memory. The taste of her lips, the sound of her laugh, the way her body had felt against his and beneath it all, the undeniable truth he couldn’t run from anymore. He had crossed a line and there was no going back.
Chapter Eight
Ashley stirred awake to the faint rustle of sheets beside her. For a second, in the haze of sleep, she thought it was Kingston reaching for her the way he used to when they were first married, his arm curling around her waist, his chest warm against her back but the bed was empty. She blinked, sat up, rubbed the grit of half-sleep from her eyes. The clock on her nightstand glowed 6:10 a.m. Kingston’s side of the bed was already cold. Her heart pinched. He must’ve come home so late she didn’t even hear him slip in.
Ashley rose quietly and padded toward the kitchen, the soft hum of the coffee machine guiding her. She found him at the counter, hair damp from a rushed shower, his tie knotted too loosely, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. He looked up when she entered, but only briefly.
“You’re up early,” she said softly, wrapping her cardigan around herself.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Kingston replied, too quickly. He poured coffee into his travel mug, keeping his eyes on the swirling liquid like it held answers he couldn’t face.
Ashley studied him. She’d known this man for over a decade, loved him for every one of those years. She knew the curve of his smile, the cadence of his laugh, the subtle waysstress etched itself across his brow and she knew when he was lying.
“Did you even get in last night?” Her voice was gentle, not accusing.
His shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. “Late. You were out by the time I got home.”
That much was true but the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze made her stomach knot. Ashley moved closer, reached for the coffee pot. “You should’ve woken me. I would’ve waited.”
Kingston’s lips curved in something meant to be a smile. “You need your rest more than I do.”
The words, kind on the surface, cut deeper than they should have. She wanted to ask where he’d been exactly, why his shirt from last night was missing from the laundry basket, why he smelled faintly not of antiseptic and long hours at the hospital but of something warmer, muskier. Something that wasn’t hers but she swallowed the questions. For now.
The kids padded in moments later with Ethan rubbing his eyes with his small fists, Olivia already chattering about a drawing she wanted to finish before school. Their presence lightened the air, as it always did. Kingston crouched to hug them, his arms tight, almost desperate, as if he needed their innocence to anchor him. Ashley watched him kiss Olivia’s cheek, watched Ethan giggle when Kingston ruffled his hair and her chest ached because for all his distance, for all the shadows creeping between them, he was still their father. Still the man she had built a life with.
When they finally settled at the table with bowls of cereal, Ashley leaned against the counter, arms crossed,studying him. He felt it and she could tell by the way he shifted in his chair, the way he avoided her eyes.
“What time will you be home tonight?” she asked casually, though every nerve in her body strained for the answer.
“Not sure,” he muttered, spooning cereal into Ethan’s bowl even though Ethan was old enough to do it himself. “Might be another late one.”
Ashley’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’ve been working a lot with Rebecca lately, haven’t you?” The name slipped out before she could stop herself.
Kingston froze for half a second, then forced a shrug. “She’s on the same team for the new surgical rotation. That’s all.”
Ashley nodded, pretending to accept the answer but inside, something cold and sharp dug deeper into her chest. She busied herself with the kids, helped Olivia tie her shoes, packed their bags, kissed them goodbye as Kingston drove them to school.
The second the door closed, silence settled over the house like a heavy blanket. Ashley leaned against the kitchen counter, her hands trembling around her coffee cup. She wanted to believe him but the image of Rebecca at the anniversary dinner. Her laugh too familiar, her gaze lingering too long flashed through her mind again and now, with Kingston coming home later and later, with shadows under his eyes and excuses on his lips, Ashley pressed a hand against her stomach, as if trying to steady herself. It was happening, wasn’t it?
At the hospital, Ashley tried to bury herself in work. Patients, charts, consultations, the rhythm of her day usuallykept her centered but today, every time her phone buzzed with a notification, her mind jumped. Was it him? Was it her?
By lunchtime, Carl noticed. He was leaning back in his chair across from her, chopsticks poised above his takeout, when he said, “You’re a million miles away, Ash.”
Ashley blinked. “Sorry. Just tired.”
Susan, sitting beside her, arched a brow. “Tired, or something else?”
Ashley forced a smile. “Since when did lunch turn into group therapy?”
“Since your face looks like you haven’t slept in days,” Carl said gently. “We know you too well.”
