I close my eyes and groan. He’s not wrong.
"It wasn’t about sex with Diana," I admit. "I’m not sexually attracted to her. But I looked forward to seeing her. For a while, I talked to her more than I did to Mia. I depended on her when I took over as CEO. It was like...she understood that world."
Huxley inclines his head slightly. "Emotional affairs are just as poisonous to a marriage as you getting your dick wet elsewhere."
I pick up the scotch and drink it. I feel the liquid burn my esophagus. “Mia did say that she felt uncomfortable about how my family treated Diana and me like a couple.”
“Did they?”
“Yeah.” I dip my head in assent. “Didn’t see it then. I can see it now.”
“I’m assuming you told Mia words to the effect thatshe’s imagining things?”
I give him a sardonic look. “How did you guess?”
“’Cause you’re a dumbass,” he drawls. “Look, she’s carrying a couple of years’ worth of hurt. She’s thinking: what does Diana have that she doesn’t?”
I feel the jagged edge of his words scrape my insides.
“She’s thinking that Diana can probably get pregnant while she can’t,” I conclude, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
“Bingo! You’re not as dumb as you look,” he mocks.
I lean back in the booth and scrub my hands over my face. "She believed in me. Even when I didn’t. When Dad told me I’d never be more than a mid-level manager, when I had panic attacks before board meetings, she was the one who got me through it. And what did I do? I left her behind."
"You didn’t just leave her behind, Aiden. You looked down on her."
“No!” My response is immediate and defensive.
"You did," Huxley rebukes calmly. "You thought because you made more money, because she taught kindergarten, and you ran a hedge fund, that you weremore. That you were the important one. That inequality was always baked into the marriage, and you never questioned it."
I want to yell at him for being right.
“She never asked me for anything,” I whisper, myvoice hoarse. “She gave so openly. And now I realize, I just took, took, took.”
“Whoa! Stop the pity party.” Huxley gives the back of my head a playful slap.
“What’s with all the physical violence?” I mutter, picking up my drink.
“There are two people in a marriage. You were selfish, but she let you be that way. She didn’t say a word about how she felt. She didn’t confront you about the kiss; instead waited weeks, and then flung it in your face.”
I run a hand through my hair. “She was insecure with me. What a joke! Here she kept thinking I’ll leave her, and I kept thinking she’ll never leave me—and we both were wrong.”
I think back to all the dinners where she sat in silence, absorbing my father’s cutting remarks, while I stared at my plate and said nothing. To the charity galas where she stood beside me—radiant, gracious—offering smiles to strangers, while I barely spared her a glance.
“I need to show her that I respect her as an equal. I need to make her feel seen. I need to make her feel like she never ever has to doubt my love for her.”
Huxley’s expression softens. “It sounds like a good start.”
But what if it doesn’t work?
"I’m lost without her, man.”
Huxley puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I say this as your friend, but your family sucks. Big time.”
He’s never been a fan of my father—hates his guts, actually. Has done so since the time we interned atWinter Financial during our university years. We were barely twenty, eager to impress, presenting a mock portfolio project we’d spent weeks on—high-yield bonds and mid-cap growth stocks, the kind of stuff that made us feel likeThe Wolves of Wall Street.
Dad walks in mid-presentation, stands at the back with his arms crossed, listening. When we finish, he claps slowly—mockingly, not impressed.
