He told me he loved me. But you don’t lie to the people you love.
Never in my life did I think Cameron was capable of lying to me. Not about something like this.
I walk down the hall to his bedroom, and I don’t say a word. I can’t. If I open my mouth, I’m going to throw up or cry. Maybe both.
His footsteps echo behind me, but they are white noise.
“Just let me explain,” he begs.
The bed stares at me like a siren, blaring with my infidelities and his lies. The memory of last night pushes through, making me choke on a sob.
I gave him my heart, my body and my stupid fucking dreams.
Was he ever going to tell me? Or was he just going to let me go home to my cheating wife like nothing ever happened, like a fucking idiot? Was he waiting to throw this in my face when we had the conversation about me going home? Because that conversation was bound to happen at some point. Why else would he keep this from me? It’s obvious he was holding onto it like a weapon. He’s always hated Savannah and throwing this in my face at the perfect time would be so gratifying for him.
I grab my suitcase, gripping it with my fists as I try to focus on breathing.
It takes everything in me to put my mask on. I’d become so accustomed to not wearing it, because I felt safe here. With him.
Because Ilove him.
I trusted him.
I trusted him more than anyone.
Clearly, I can’t trust anyone anymore.
Chapter Forty-Four
Cameron
There is nothing I can do but watch him walk out my door. Chasing after him won’t do any good. Pleading with him will do nothing. Apologizing won’t do anything. When Austen gets like this, he’s got tunnel vision. He doesn’t deal with being hurt well, and I mean, who does? But he completely shuts down and turns into someone else. I saw it that night in Vegas, and here I am seeing it again. As if hurting him once in a lifetime wasn’t bad enough. Now I’ve done it twice.
No, everything in Vegas wasn’t my fault and we’ve yet to even discuss any of that, but I’m not blameless, either.
But this… this is my fault. Not a single thing about this can be put on him or anyone else. I lied to him. I kept this fromhim. I should have told him, and I didn’t. I knew it from the get go, yet… I didn’t want to see him hurt again. Honestly, I have no idea what I was thinking or how I thought this was going to go. Maybe I was pretending, too. Pretending that this—whatever this is—was the way it was supposed to be, when I knew it couldn’t be. Part of me wishes I’d never have seen Savannah with that guy at all, while another part just wishes I’d have told him the truth.
I should have fucking told him.
I dig my fingers through my hair, tugging on the strands as tears fill my eyes. I storm into the kitchen grabbing the bottle of Macallan he bought me the other day, and swig right from the bottle. No, it’s not the type of alcohol you guzzle, but it’s about to be. Getting shit-face drunk is the only way I’m going to handle how badly I fucked up.
The alcohol burns going down and it doesn’t settle right in my stomach. It’ll probably come back up at some point and that’s just too fucking bad.
Slamming the bottle on the table, I go to the living room in search of my phone.
Fuck this phone. Fuck technology.
How the hell did I fuck up so badly? Not only did I let him see this video, the video I made, but I cast it to my giant fucking TV. Seeing it that fucking clearly must’ve only made it worse, like rubbing salt in the wound. Not only did he see his wife cheating on him, but he saw it in 4k Ultra HD. Fuck, I’m an asshole. I amsuchan asshole.
I delete the video from my phone because I don’t know why I kept it in the first place. Of course I knew it was there, but I just... I don’t know. I don’t fucking know anything anymore.
I pull up his contact, my finger hovering over the call button. It’s unlikely he’ll answer, but I have to try. I should have gone after him in the first place. No, no. Austen doesn’t deal well withthat shit. He needs his space, but I can’t let him think I don’t care. Because I do. I care so much and I am such an idiot for this. I ruined it all. I ruined everything.
I finally get the exact thing I want. I have Austen here with me, in my house, and everything is perfect. And I ruined it. Maybe I did it on purpose. Maybe I knew things would never work out with us in the end anyway. He is married, after all. So maybe it was a subconscious thing. I mean, how the fuck did I put that video on over the one of us from college rocking out to My Chem in the studio?
I go back into the kitchen to snatch up the bottle of Macallan and bring it to my lips. Tipping my head back, I take mouthful after mouthful. It makes my stomach sick, and when I put the bottle down, it’s halfway gone. Yep, definitely going to be sick, but it’s less than what I deserve.
I look at my phone again, wanting to call him. Fuck it.
