Real.
Fuck me. I was in love with my wife.
Though was it really all that much of a surprise? Like Beck constantly reminded me, this thing between us had been building inside me for more than half my life. I shouldn’t have been shocked that this was how it had manifested itself. Especially now when I’d spent these past several weeks learning her, inside and out.
Learning to love every single part of her.
That complicated things infinitely, especially when I had no idea what she was feeling. No idea if this had become real for her, or if she was still pretending. I thought back over the past month, how she’d been with me…opening up and letting me in in ways I wasn’t sure she’d ever done before. If she was pretending, she was a hell of an actress.
I needed to find her. Needed to look into her eyes and see if I could get a read on if she felt any of this, too.
But first, I had to make a quick detour.
“Hey,” I said, leaning my elbow on the bar next to the asshat who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He glanced over, brows drawn down. “Yeah?”
“You know that woman who keeps turning you down?”
He snorted. “Whatever, man. She’s a bitch. Acting like she’s too good for me.”
“Watch your fucking mouth when you talk about my wife.” My voice was hard even as I smiled and nodded to someone who waved at me from across the room. “Sheistoo good for you. And if you bother her again, we’re gonna have a problem. She’s a doctor, so she won’t punch you right in your smug mouth, but I don’t have any such hang-ups. We clear?” Without waiting for him to respond, I clapped him on the back—hard enough that he choked on his drink—and set off to find Quinn.
I strode down the hallway she’d disappeared into, slowing as I heard voices coming from around the corner.
“—can’t believe he actually showed up. And he’smarriedto her. Pathetic, especially when he could’ve had me.” Snorts of laughter followed, and I’d recognize that nasally cawing anywhere. Fucking Chelsea.
Considering I no longer gave two shits what my ex had to tell herself about my marriage or what she thought about my being here, I was about to turn around and head in the other direction in search of my wife when her voice pulled me up short.
“God, you really are a bitch, aren’t you?”
“Excuseme?”
“You’re a bitch,” Quinn said, like she was stating that two plus two equaled four. “I don’t usually like to call women that, but I feel okay making an exception in your case. You were a mean girl in high school, and you’re still a mean girl now. Is your life seriously that unfulfilling that you get this much pleasure from tearing people down?”
“Who even invited you into this conversation?” Chelsea snapped.
“Well, it’s my husband you’re talking about, so…you. And I’ll save you the trouble of trying to figure out why Ford couldpossiblyhave moved on from you since I know brains aren’t your strong suit,” Quinn said, her voice saccharine sweet. “It’s your personality, sweetie.”
A few shocked gasps sounded, and I grinned, shuffling forward quietly as I peered around the corner, desperate for a peek at my wife, the badass. Quinn’s back was to me as she faced off with Chelsea, who stood surrounded by her bridesmaids.
My ex’s face was bright red, her lips pressed in a thin line. “Whatever. You can have my sloppy seconds. I moved on to someone better. Thank God I cut that dead weight back in high school because he hasn’t amounted to anything. You’re just too desperate to see it.”
My jaw ticked, anger flooding me, but not for the reason I would’ve thought. Turned out, I no longer gave a shit what she thought of me, but I’d be damned if I sat back and let her talk about my wife that way.
But before I could take a single step forward and put an end to this, Quinn snapped back at Chelsea. “What I see is a washed-up prom queen who’s mad her ex moved on and found someone else—someone who doesn’t have to count using her fingers.”
I watched as all the bridesmaids’ mouths dropped open, and I had to smother a laugh. Damn. My kitten’s claws were sharp tonight, and that shit was making me hard.
Chelsea fisted her hands at her sides, her face turning a mottled red. “You—”
“I’m not done,” Quinn cut in, waving a hand through the air, the light glinting off her wedding band. “I’m going to try to explain this to you using small words so you can understand—Ford’s afirefighter.That means he saves people’s lives for a living. He’s a literal hero. Your husband sells used cars, so how about we stop throwing stones when we live in glass houses, m’kay?”
I didn’t know what was hotter—that Quinn had my back without hesitation or that she stood up for herself to a woman like Chelsea, who loved cutting others down. Someone so much like her parents. And if she could do it to Chelsea, maybe she could do it with them, too.
The entire purpose of our coming here—of my side in this farce of a marriage—had been to show my ex I wasn’t the man she claimed I was. But now that that time had come, I couldn’t care less. Not when my wife stood there in that red dress, my ring glinting on her finger, and my cock hard as steel for her.
I couldn’t wait a second longer and strolled around the corner toward them. “Evening, ladies.”
