James.
When I push the door open, my intention is to say hello to him. But then I step out and notice a car pulling up to the curb next to him. He finishes his cigarette as I call his name, but he doesn’t turn around or give any indication he heard me. I walk a little closer as he drops the cigarette and stomps on it with his boot.
“James,” I say it louder this time, and he finally turns toward me. I can tell he’s been drinking.
“What do you want?” he asks, and then there is a flare of recognition across his face.
“Rylas,” a woman calls out from the car.
When he turns back to the car, something on his left hand catches the glow from the streetlight. It’s a wedding ring. Disgust creeps its way into me. How could he do this? What a sad human to do this to a woman like Delaney.
Leaning down, I smile at the woman. She appears to be in her mid-thirties, hair tied up loosely on top of her head, and dressed in sweats.
“Hi, I’m Cora.” I offer her a small wave.
“I’m Monica, Rylas’s wife.” She nods to James.
I focus my gaze back on him and narrow my eyes. “Wife?” I ask him. She is meant to be dead. His jaw is clenched hard as I look back at his wife.
“I didn’t know he was married. So nice to meet you.” I smile at her. “How long have you been married?” She looks past me to where her lying scumbag of a husband is.
“Ten years,” she says proudly.
Just as I go to say something else, James, or should I say Rylas, pushes me out of the way and grumbles, “Ignore her. She’s one of Arlo’s whores.”
“Ohhh,” Monica says as he climbs into the car.
“How fucking dare—” I go to say, but Rylas drives off before I can finish.
I immediately call Delaney, but she doesn’t answer. She usually sleeps with her phone on silent.
“I told you to wait inside,” Arlo says from behind me.
Noticing a cab approaching, I raise my hand to flag it down. “I have a ride for us,” he says, and I step out of his way before he can reach me, looking back over my shoulder at him.
“You knew he was married,” I accuse.
He lifts his hand and scrubs it over his face. “Rylas was out here?” he guesses.
“Yes, your friend, James,” I hiss as I get into the cab. He goes to follow, but I hold up a finger. “If you dare, I’ll kick you so hard in the dick, you won’t be able to use it for a month.” His dark gaze fixes on me, his mouth in a tight, thin line.
I give the cabbie Delaney’s address.
How can a night go from so good to shit in a matter of minutes?
Arlo watches as I drive off, and I try calling Delaney again, but she doesn’t answer. Arlo tries to call several times, and I ignore each one. He knew James was lying to us. He could have told me. He had plenty of chances to do so. But he chose not to.
What else is he lying about?
Is he secretly married too?
He could be, and I would have no idea whatsoever.
When the driver stops in front of Delaney’s house, I get out and then start banging on her door, screaming out her name so she knows it’s me and not some stranger. Eventually, the door opens to a sleepy Delaney, and I push past her before shutting the door behind me.
“It’s late. Is everything okay?” she asks in concern.
I know I have to come out and say it, but I know it’s going to hurt her, which is the last thing I want to do. She’s been doing so well lately. There are no health scares, and she is happy with her life. And while he might be a part of that happiness, he’s also about to be a large part of her pain. And I’m the one about to give it to her. I start pacing the room, unsure how to spit it out without her hating me in the process.
