Page 85 of Wicked Dix

“I was in a bad place, Maddy, and Juliet was who I thought I needed. But I was wrong. I didn’t want to lead you astray because I knew from the minute I met you, you deserved better than me. You still do,” I sincerely reveal, knowing that although it’s the truth, it sounds like just an excuse. “I swear it; I never knew who she was until the night of her engagement.” The night this entire disaster started.

She blinks back her tears. “You could have told me then. There were so many opportunities for you to tell me, Dixon!”

“I could have. But I’m a coward, Maddy. I’m not a good man.” I hang my head in shame.

“You’re not a good man? What else have you done?” she wisely says. “Beth wasn’t your patient when you were dating her.”

“We were never dating,” I miserably amend.

“So what then? She was your…fuck buddy?”

I don’t reply.

She inhales a sharp intake of breath.

I’m surprised Juliet hasn’t revealed all the sins of my past. But of course she hasn’t. She wanted to leave the honors to me.

Her gasp reveals she’s worked it out. “But it wouldn’t matter if she were, right? I mean, that didn’t stop you in the past? Did it?”

Running a hand through my hair, I pull at the strands as I raise my eyes to look at her. “No.”

“Oh my God,” she cries, her lower lip quivering. “Dixon, how could you?”

“I don’t know!” I yell, spreading my arms out wide. “It sickens me. If I could take it back, I would.”

She will never understand how sorry I am for what I’ve done.

“How many?” she unexpectedly questions.

My lip curls in confusion. “How many what?”

“How many women, how many patients did you fuck?” She suddenly dives forward and shoves me in the chest. She shoves me over and over and over again.

But I stand my ground and happily take her beatings, as I deserve them. “Eleven. Maybe twelve,” I confess, turning my head to the side as she continues pounding on my chest.

“Maybetwelve?” she hysterically asks. “You don’t even know?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t.”

“You asshole! You f-fucking p-pig! How c-could you d-do this to m-me?” She’s sobbing uncontrollably, her tiny thumps getting softer and softer as her snivels begin to rob her of breath.

I reach out and gently secure her wrists, but she violently pulls out of my hold. “Don’t touch me!” She jerks backward and wipes her nose with the back of her hand.

Raising my palms in surrender, I expose, “There’s more.”

She already hates me. I may as well unveil it all.

“More women?” she asks, her red-rimmed eyes widening.

“No. More to the story.”

She blinks back her tears. “More?”

“The baby Juliet is carrying, well…it may be mine.” I swallow down my revulsion.

“Oh my God,” she wheezes, placing a hand over her mouth.

I resist the urge to comfort her because I need to get this all out into the open before I chicken out. “I don’t know what she told you about why I was meeting her here, but it was because she tricked me into thinking I was meeting her to sign over all parental rights.”

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