Page 79 of Tempted Away

Nathan: Can I come over tonight?

I would love to see him, but I promised Quinn that talk.

Me: I’m seeing Quinn tonight. Maybe tomorrow night if you’re free?

Nathan: I’ll make sure I’m free. Love you, sis

My eyes tear up. He started calling me sis before we got married because he said it was just a matter of time. It’s just another thing Quinn is taking away from me.

It’s been a quiet day, so when the bell jingles, I look up and freeze. Never in a million years will I ever be able to forget her face. She looks around, hesitating, but then sees me.

Seconds slow down as we take each other in. Squaring her shoulders, she approaches me. Anger simmers with every step she takes. This is my store, my safe haven where I can keep myself busy and try to forget—even if it’s only for a few minutes—the betrayal that’s weighing me down every second of every day. I clench my hands, the urge to throw her out almost overwhelming.

Her eyes meet mine briefly before dropping to the counter. “I was wondering if you have a few minutes to talk.”

“Can’t say I’m really in the mood to talk.”

“Fair enough.” She takes a deep breath. “You don’t need to say anything, and you don’t owe me anything, but I have something to say, and I would appreciate a chance to say it.”

“And I would have appreciated you not fucking my husband, but here we are.”

She flinches, no doubt feeling the animosity and disgust that’s radiating from me.

Nodding, she blows out a deep breath, her eyes meeting mine again. I can see what Quinn saw in her. She’s very pretty, with her black hair, blue eyes, and porcelain skin, and it’s just another dagger straight to my heart. I’ve read somewhere that when men have affairs, they usually “date down,” but that’s the biggest load of crap. Justine is not just pretty; she’s stunning.

“I just want the chance to tell you my side of the story and apologize. Please.”

Sighing, I nod. She seems determined to say whatever she’s come here to say, and I want to get it over with.

I find a table that’s semi-private and wait for her to speak. I watch her fidget until I can’t take it anymore.

“Did you know he was married?” That’s all that’s really important to me.

“Yes—”

I stand up because that’s all that matters. No matter how many times she apologizes, it won’t make up for what she’s done.

“That’s all I need to know, and I honestly don’t give a fuck if you’re sorry or not.”

“Wait, please,” she calls out. “He lied to me. He said you were getting a divorce.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“I don’t care if you believe me,” she says, a hint of temper shining through. “but I need to get this off my chest. He lied to me. I would have never gotten involved with him if I knew the truth.”

A tear rolls down her cheek, and jerking her hand, she swipes it away. Our silence is thick as I sit down, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest, pinning her with a stare. Everything I am is screaming at me to protect myself from what she’s about to say.

“Quinn told me you were separated and you were getting a divorce. That you got married young but mistook friendship for love. Was that a lie?”

There’s a plea in her eyes for me to validate her words, but I can’t. I won’t.

I take my time answering, staring at a man flipping through a book in the Thriller section. Her words are flames, scorching everything around me, leaving me to breathe in the ashes of all that’s left. Is that how Quinn sees me? As a friend? When the silence gets too long, I turn back to her, and whatever she sees makes her face drop.

“We did get married young, that’s true. But no, we weren’t separated or getting a divorce. We had plans.” I shrug. “House, kids. Those kinds of things.”

“I was such a fool believing him.” She looks down, her throat working. “When he said he was crazy about me, I believed him. I feel so stupid now. Looking back now, I can see there were signs that I should have picked up on. But I didn’t. I was so flattered when he started paying attention to me that I was blind to everything else. And that’s on me.

I know none of this excuses what happened or changes the fact that I slept with your husband, but I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, truly, truly sorry. It was never my intention to get involved with a married man. I’m not a home wrecker. That’s not who I am.” Her last words are whispered, and I can feel an echo of my pain in them.

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