I push her against the door, deepening our kiss. Her back hits it with a soft thud as her arms travel up my chest, wrapping her arms around my neck. I try my hardest to remember all the things she’s told me she likes. Kiss her here, touch her there.
The movements are methodical, like writing code.
I pick her up, bunching her skirts and lift her with ease and carry her to the primary bedroom. Or at least, I think it’s the primary bedroom, because there are at least four bedrooms in this house, and they all look the same.
“Austen,” she sighs as I place her on the bed, settling between her legs. I’m met with a bunch of tulle, like an oversized pillow.
My watch catches the light, and for a moment, I stop. The shiny dark face glistens and tears pool in my eyes as the knife turns in my heart.
I thought when he came to the wedding today, that meant we were okay. As if we could both just forget.
I climb up Savannah slowly, reaching my hand out and burying it in her hair as I stare down at her. “I love you,” I say as I kiss her, tears falling down my eyes.
I expect her to say it back, to tell me that everything will be okay.
But all she says is, “I know.”
Not “I love you too, Austen,” or “I love you too, husband,” or anything remotely romantic and assuring. Just…I know.
I kiss her to quiet the ache and the voice in my head telling me to run. To get up out of this house and just fucking leave. But I can’t do that. I made a vow. At least that’s what I tell myself as I fuck my wife.
When she’s had her orgasm, she pushes me away. I slide out of her, relief flooding me.
I did it.
But it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. As I know it should. And I never got off. Not that I needed to, but…
“I’m going to get a bath,” she says as she gets up, heading for the bathroom.
She doesn’t wait for me to respond, just leaves and shuts the door.
A part of me wants to call him. Cameron.
Tell him what happened. Once, I told him everything. He always understood, always knew what to say or how to make me feel better, but I can’t do that. Not anymore.
The tears come without warning as reality hits me that I am alone.
And the only person I have to blame is myself.
Part Two
Now…
Chapter Twenty
Cameron
Turns out the bartender is happily married. What an ass. Who flirts with a guy like that and then when they’re asked to join them in their hotel, they laugh and say, “Sorry, I’m married.”
To a woman, no less.
Fucking asshole flirting just to get tips.
I shouldn’t even be mad at him. And really, I’m not. He’s just doing his job. What I am mad about is everything else. This town. The people. Most especially Austen fucking Brewer and his somehow still stunningly gorgeous wife.
Actually, it’s notsomehow. I know how.Money.Lots and lots of money.
“Hey.”
