Cam grabs his phone, linking up with his television, which comes up asExpress.
“And one more second,” he says, as the screen flashes black. He sets his phone down, sliding his arm around me as he turns to me with a grin.
I don’t have the faintest clue what he plans to show me that’s on his phone and not on Netflix or another platform. Maybe he found some stupid old videos of us?
I barely notice the screen until I hear the sound coming from it.
“They’re kissing right now,” a deep male voice says. One I don’t recognize, so I look up and—
Cameron yells, “Fuck!”
My blood runs cold as I process what’s on the screen. Or more specifically, mywife,who is kissing someone. Someone who isnotme.
Cam fumbles with his phone, swearing as I realize three things.
One, the dress Savannah is wearing is the one she bought for her trip to California.
The same trip where she told me she saw Cam on a date with a guy.
Two, my wife is cheating on me.
Three, Cameron knew about this.
For the last month, he knew my wife was cheating on me, and he said nothing. Not a single fucking word. He had this secret and he kept it from me. One that is so…big.
Panic swells within me, and I can’t breathe.
He knew when I showed up that night, after my fight with Savannah. Heknew,and he didn’t tell me.
His voice is far away even though he’s right next to me. The TV screen goes black, but the damage is done.
All this time, he knew and he didn’t say a fucking word. Every kiss, every touch, every fuck…
My eyes close as the last eleven days replay like a movie in my head.
My eyes water as my stomach flips and my throat tightens.
I’m such a fucking fool. To think I could trust him, that I could trust anyone…
His hands grasp me, snapping me out of my haze. I push him away.
“Austen…”
“Don’t touch me,” I say, my voice cracking. I don’t miss the tears in his eyes from my rejection.
The worst part is my body aches for his arms, even now. To soothe the burn. To hug me and tell me it’ll be okay. Because he’s the only one who ever makes me feel better.
But he’s the one who caused the pain this time.
He lied to me.
How could he lie tome?
“Austen, please…”
I grab my sketchpad, shove the pain down in my stomach, because it wants to consume me.
The memories replay over and over.His hands in my hair, his tongue in my mouth. His smile in the morning.
