It vanishes.The suffocating weight goes with it.My finger feels wonderfully, terrifyingly light.
There’s no turning back.
I kick off my heels.The cold pavement is a relief.I walk toward the intersection, the slap of my bare feet a defiant rhythm against the silence.
TWO
SHOES CLUTCHED IN one hand, keys dangling from the other, I trudge toward our apartment door.The hallway smells of chemical cleaner and cloying air freshener.A familiar scent that now turns my stomach.The weight of the night presses down.
Don’t think, just move.
Get inside.
Pack.
The commands fire rapidly, a desperate attempt to block out the whirlwind threatening to overwhelm me.
Before I slide the key into the lock, the door swings open.James blocks the threshold, hair a mess and shirt half-untucked.The musky scent of alcohol and something sickly sweet clings to him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”He snatches the keys, his fingers brushing mine.
Revulsion shoots up my arm.I recoil.
He pockets the keys and shoves me back, sending my spine into the wall hard enough to rattle my teeth.“Weren’t you just yelling that it’s over?”
“Get out of my way, James.”My throat constricts.
I move to step past him.He shifts, a solid wall.“I don’t think so—” His eyes narrow, lingering on the wig.“Wow.This look really suits you.Hot, sexy Mimi.”His voice drips with a false charm that makes my skin crawl.
He steps closer, eyes raking over my body with a dark, predatory hunger.
“It would be a shame to let it go to waste.I know you didn’t mean what you said, so let’s just kiss and make—”
“Don’t touch me!”I shove his chest, but he barely budges.“I’m tired of your games.I saw the truth with my own eyes.”
“Like I said, just a bit of fun.Meant nothing.”He advances, an amused glint in his eyes.“I’m here with you, aren’t I?I always come home to you.”
“You always come home.But not to me.”
He sighs, exasperated.“Why is everything always so complicated with you?”
“Complicated?”My voice cracks.“Did you seriously expect me to stand by and watch as you fuck half the female population of Madison?”
“I expected you to be more understanding.”He invades my space, backing me against the wall again.
The hallway shrinks.The air reeks of stale alcohol.
“I told you this whole fiancé thing is new to me, but I’m working on it.What more do you want?”
“What more… do I want?”Tears prick my eyes.“I want my fiancé back.The man who loved me.I want the passion, the warmth, the way you used to look at me—” My voice dissolves into a choked sob.
James runs a hand through his hair, eyes squeezed shut.“Wow.You’re such a buzzkill.”
The word strikes me cold.
A buzzkill?
Knowing I’m getting nowhere, I wipe my face and try to sidestep him.He grabs my elbow, fingers digging in.I wince as pain cuts through my numbness.
