Page 32 of Wicked Truths

“You don’t know shit,” I growl, sliding around the island.

“Really? I know you’re here giving me the third degree when the two of you have played games to the point her confidence is shot.” He flips me off with a black painted fingernail. “Maybe take a look in the mirror and ask yourself if you’re projecting.”

I growl, stepping forward.

Marcus doesn’t back down. If anything, he stands to his full height for once and squares his shoulders. “Your buddy outed the fact you have a wife.”

My mind races.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I’m going to end up in jail before all of this is over.

Motherfucking Sullivan.

I thought he cared about her and wanted more than friendship, but he’s been even more closed off than I have recently.

Now this? He and I are going to have a serious talk.

“Had,” I clarify. “I had a wife. The divorce was finalized three days ago.”

“I figured it was something like that.” He curls a hand toward his chest. “I defended you. I told her it’s pretty clear the two of you aren’t together.”

My head tilts as I study him. “Why?”

“It certainly wasn’t because I like you,” he growls. “You’re both going to fuck around and push her away so completely that she wants nothing to do with you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you because we both know I did. Multiple times.”

He shakes his head, spins around, grabs all the stuff off the counter, and heads off toward mine and Oakley’s rooms. His is on the other side of the penthouse, and I don’t like the fact he’s going to be in there with her.

My head falls as I stare at my feet. I’m furious, but I’m self-aware enough to realize I got myself into this situation, and now I’ve got to get out of it.

I’ve never been afraid of hard work.

I’m not a shady person.

I’ve had multiple opportunities to tell her the truth. My stomach aches with regret and maybe a twinge of embarrassment.

It’s not something I like talking about, and telling that story to the woman I’m more attracted to than anyone I’ve ever been into? Well, I chickened the fuck out, so now I have to deal with the repercussions of my actions.

* * *

I barely sleep. Not that I require much. I can function with a couple of hours and survive without much trouble.

I’m finishing up fried eggs for bacon sandwiches when Oakley stumbles into the kitchen. She’s rumpled and sleepy.

I grab the mayo and a knife to keep from doing something ridiculous like shutting off the burner, picking her up, and carrying her to my bed for sleepy cuddles.

“Hey.” I clear my throat. “I made breakfast.” I grimace, shaking my head at the ceiling. It’s not like she can’t see and smell that for herself. How did I get myself into this mess?

“It smells good.” The tight smile that crosses her face makes my gut drop.

“I made your favorite.” God, that sounds cringy even to my own ears.

“Thanks, but I only came to grab a bottle of water.” She swipes hair out of her face and heads for the refrigerator.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” I ask as she grabs out two bottles and closes the door.

“Are you trying to burn the entire building down?” Liam saunters into the kitchen in a pair of sweatpants.

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