“I hope your trip withCamwas nice,” she says, her voice full of venom. “That is where you were, right?” she asks smugly.
Just hearing his name is enough to make me want to crumble, but I can’t.
I can’t let Savannah of all people see me fall apart, see me weak and hurt.
“How long?” I growl. Anger festers in me like a hurricane.
“Austen…”
“How long?” I yell, my voice echoing off the walls. “How long have you been cheating on me?”
My wife’s boyfriend or fuckboy or whatever he is comes at me, clearly not liking my tone, and I grab his arm and twist it. He cries out and Savannah yells, pushing me. The motion dislodges my hand. Her hair flies around her face, her cheeks flushed, her gaze full of anger. No, not anger. Hatred.
“Does it matter?” she huffs.
“It matters to me,” I say through gritted teeth. “We made a vow!”
“You never wanted to marry me, Austen. You only did because I told you I was pregnant. Don’t act like you were in love with me. We both know you weren’t.”
Her words strike me hard.
Because she’s right. All those times I told her I loved her, I never felt it. Not like I felt it in my damn soul when I told CamI loved him.
I try to fight the memory, I can’t let it infiltrate my thoughts, my heart. Not now, and possibly not ever again if I make it out of this alive.
A horrible thought pushes through and the words fall out of my mouth with anger. Because I think I know the answer.
“Were you ever really pregnant?” I ask, my voice cold.
Savannah raises an eyebrow. “I thought I was, but I wasn’t. But the opportunity for this—” She waves to our house, her lips pursed into a thin line.
“You used me,” I say, shaking my head. “You manipulated me and you used me, for what?”
And suddenly I see everything I didn’t see before.
I see the truth, and it stains my memories like ink.
Her boyfriend or whatever stands there staring at me with a look of equal judgment and fuckingsympathy.
I don’t need sympathy. I need…
“Did you ever love me?” I ask, my voice dark, full of pain.
Savannah looks me up and down, the tension between us thick.
And I know her answer. Her hesitation and her judgmental gaze, her indifference, her not even bothering to call me.
Of course not. You don’t manipulate people you love. You don’t betray them the way Savannah betrayed me.
Maybe I was just a means to an end for her but I can’t deny she was a means to an end for me, too. I knew it then, and I know it now. The only difference between us is I tried my fucking hardest to make us something. But Savannah didn’t want us to work, that is clear now.
She only wanted what my name would provide her, and nothing else.
And strangely, knowing the truth, it feels like a relief. Like someone’s been standing on my chest for years and finally they’ve let up.
“You know what, I don’t care,” I say as I turn around, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.
“Where are you going?” she asks, following after me.
