“Well, I just got out of a relationship a couple days before I met you ... and I jumped into bed with you pretty quickly.” Instantly—and bareback.
“I’m not the judgmental type.”
“You just said you don’t tolerate liars and cheats.”
“I don’t,” he said simply. “But you don’t fall into those categories.” He finished his fish, his elbows moving to the table with his hands together. “The relationship ended, and you’re free to do what you wish—or whom you wish.” A subtle, handsome smile moved on to his lips. “Unless there’s a chance you’ll get back together—”
“No.” Every bone in my body wanted to scream. If Enzo came back to me because he realized his affair was just a mistake and begged for another chance, it would give me no pleasure, not when I never wantedto see him again in any capacity—not even for that succulent revenge. “He’s dead to me.”
He gave a slight nod like he understood, when there was no way he’d understand at all. A man who looked like that had never been replaced by someone else. Had never been betrayed by a woman. Any woman who had the pleasure of his company held on until her knuckles snapped. “A liar and a cheat.”
An astute guess. “That wasn’t even the worst part.”
He didn’t ask for further detail, but his magnetic stare from across the table had the strength to pull it out of me.
I hadn’t told anyone what had happened. I wasn’t sure if Enzo had told his friends yet. So it was all crammed deep inside my chest, and the bars that kept it in place were growing weaker by the day. My friends would be supportive, but they would have that look in their eyes—I told you so. Constantine was a stranger in a bar who had quickly turned into my lover and my friend and ... the perfect medicine for my misery. “I was the photographer for one of his work retreats. It moved really quickly, we moved in together in just a few months, and it just felt right. He told his friends he wanted to marry me. I found the family I’d been missing. But about six months ago, I noticed it.”
He continued to listen.
“Noticed him fall out of love with me. A slow, painful death, just like my mother’s. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to fix it. I tried to talk to him, tried to plan special things for us, but the harder I tried, the more indifferent he became. I felt myself wither away as the defeat continued to suck me dry. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I started to snoop through his phone and try to figure out if there was someone else.”
“Don’t be ashamed. That’s on him, not you.”
“I violated his privacy.”
“A man in a committed relationship doesn’t need privacy.” He spoke in his normal voice, all the tables on the patio filled with other guests, but his tone was so sharp it nearly cut me. “A man should makehis woman feel secure. If he didn’t, that’s on him. You should never have to wonder, and if you do, then the relationship is done. Instead of being a man and telling you the truth, he forced you to do things you didn’t want to do. He made you someone you didn’t want to be, a woman who goes through his phone when he’s in the shower, analyzes every word he says, searching for the truth between the lies, desperate for attention and validation. And the more he refuses to give it to you, the harder you work for it. He held the power over you—and he fucking knew it.”
I stared, utterly mesmerized by this man.
“If he doesn’t respect you, then you don’t respect his privacy.” His arms lowered on the table as he sank back into his chair, his dark eyes wreathed in viciousness. “That’s how it works.”
Did these heated words come from experience? I wanted to ask, but it didn’t feel right in the moment. “I didn’t find anything, because he was deleting his messages. We booked this trip a long time ago, and I thought it might be the right opportunity for us to find each other again. But he was more distant than he ever was until he just left abruptly.”
He listened to every word, the candlelight reflecting perfectly in his eyes.
“But he left his watch behind, and those messages weren’t deleted.” I swallowed before I continued. “It ended up being his boss, a woman who’s about seven years older than him, who’s married with two kids.”
His reaction was subtle but distinct, a shift in his eyebrows like even he was surprised.
“Her husband found out, and she wanted him to end things with me so they could finally be together ... and he did.”
“And not once did he tell you this himself.” It was phrased as a question but more of a statement, like he was the judge about to decide the punishment.
“Correct.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Now I understand.”
“Understand what?”
He held my gaze for a while before he gave a slight shake of his head.
“Understand what?” I pressed.
His eyes shifted away as he considered my question, drafting his meticulous response. The pause was more than a few seconds, almost a minute, and his eyes continued to reflect the candlelight and the flames from the outdoor space heaters. “Why you didn’t fight for me.” His hand absentmindedly massaged the bicep of the opposite arm. “Why you let that other woman have me.”
Chapter 8
Aurelia
