My throat burns. Acid crawls up the back of it. It feels like she’s here again… like her calm, steady hands are methodically arranging the proof of my betrayal, one page at a time.
Then a strangled laugh escapes him, broken, disbelieving.
“Jesus Christ, Colin… how long were you with this woman to go through this many condoms and—holy shit.”
He tilts one of the pages toward the light, his voice faltering. He doesn’t need to say it.His lack of wordsalone tells me which receipt he’s staring at.
Heat rushes up my neck, flooding my face. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could disappear. Anywhere but here, anywhere beyond the crushing weight of my own guilt and shame.
I swallow hard as the memory cuts through me, mercilessly. The night I unlocked the drawer in my home office and pulled out that box.
The set.
Small. Medium. Large.
I remember the brief, reckless flicker of excitement when I lifted the medium one from its velvet lining.
I swallow again.
I’d bought it more than two years ago and never once brought it up to Ceci, leaving it forgotten in that drawer. Experience had already taught me—back in my reckless youth—that anal sex was, for most women, more pain than pleasure.
And Ceci… she’s soft. Gentle. She never refused me anything, never set limits when it was just us. But I could neverask her to endure something I knew might hurt her. I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing that pain on her face.
And yet… that's all I saw today.
Pain.Pain carved into her by my own hands.
I should’ve thrown that set away a dozen times. Every time I remembered it existed. Every time the thought of using it with Ceci surfaced. But I didn’t.
The euphoria I'd felt that day in Miami, buying the lube and numbing cream, feels unreal now… like I'm watching a stranger through glass. A version of myself too blind, too arrogant to realize that you can't have both—pleasure and control—without losing everything you love.
What use is there in dwelling onwhat ifsand choices I never made? What matters now is finding a way around this, fixing what I broke. Ceci loves me. We've built a life together, a home, a family. I love her… and she knows it. She's always known. I never hid it.
Once the anger burns itself out, she'll see that again. She'll understand.She has to.
"Christ," Oliver mutters, shaking his head, flipping through another page. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like this in my life."
His voice startles me, I’d almost forgotten he was in the room. I snap my gaze toward him. “Get off your damn high horse,” I bite out. “You cheated on Felicity too. At least I didn’t do it in our own house—with a newborn on the next floor.”
Oliver’s head jerks up, fury flaring in his eyes. I know how much he hates it when I bring that up. And yet, here he is, acting as if his hands are clean.
“Go to hell,” he spits. “It happened once. In our home. Once. And at least I didn’t carry on a full-blown affair.” He jabs a finger toward the binder. “A designer dress, shoes, work trips, hotelstays, dinners, flowers, expensive chocolates for your mistress—are you serious?”
My jaw locks. “It was her birthday. She wouldn’t stop talking about it for weeks. It didn’t mean anything.” I exhale sharply, forcing my voice steady. “I was fucking her for months, yes—but all of that?” I gesture dismissively. “Pocket change. Money that means nothing to me.”
Then a crooked smirk slips out. “At least I didn’t buy her a diamond necklace and hide it in a sock drawer for my wife to find—with a little note tucked inside.” I shrug one shoulder. “Maybe the saying’s right. Birds of a feather…”
His face hardens, the anger setting into his jaw before the words even come. “You damn well know I only bought that to shut her up. I was trying to end it, to make it go away without blowing up my life.” He turns away, drags a hand through his hair, then spins back around, his jaw tight with anger.
“And you know what? The one with the real problem here is you. I screwed the nanny a few times over a month—years ago. One month. It happened once, in our house. My wife forgave me. I love her. We’re happy. I will never make a stupid, selfish choice like that again. I’ve chosen my wife and my family every single day since. Every fucking day.”
He jabs a finger toward me. “You should’ve learned from my mess, not doubled down and raised the stakes”
That shuts me up. Neither of us says a word.
Oliver pours himself another shot of whiskey and sinks back into the chair, the binder resting open in his hand. I don't even care anymore. He's already seen it all. Every receipt, every timestamp, every goddamn piece of evidence.
“How do I make Ceci forgive me?” The words break on my tongue, rough, pleading. “How did you make Felicity forgive you?”
