He moved closer, his lips hovering a breath away from mine. He hesitated, waiting. Always waiting for me to make the move. And fuck it, I did. I closed the distance, my lips meeting his in a soft kiss, full of all the things we couldn’t say.
It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a goodbye. When our lips parted, he lingered for a second longer. Then he stepped back and forced a sad, sideways smile. That smile broke me.
Without another word, Chris turned and stepped out of the bathroom, leaving me there.
Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them. My chest felt tight, and when I turned to the mirror, I saw my reflection. My makeup was all smudged, my cheeks streaked with tears, and my eyes were red and swollen. I looked like a mess—like the broken version of myself I’d been trying so hard to hide from everyone.
I wasn’t the woman Chris Jones had dreamt of marrying anyway.
32
JULES
Isat in my home office, aimlessly scrolling through videos on my phone. It was the usual parade of celebrity gossip and entertainment news, none of it really holding my attention until one video made me freeze.
“Jules and Chris Jones. The blind items say they’re soft-launching the divorce to spare the kids…”
What? My thumb hovered over the screen.
“Like all of you, I really hope that’s not true. I love those two. But… it looks more and more like it.”I set the phone down on the table, my mind spinning. Divorce? Kids? I closed my eyes and pressed my nails hard into my palms, the sharp sting grounding me.
And then a knock on the door startled me, interrupting my ritual. When I opened my eyes and glanced back at the phone, something was… different.“And again, that’s Blake and Ben Harris. Our darling Hollywood couple with counted days…”the journalist continued.
My stomach flipped as I rubbed my eyes, trying to make sense of what had happened. Was I daydreaming? Fuck. I hadn’t had one in weeks. Since Chris left the house that day,it felt like my brain had been forcefully anchored here, inthisreality, with all the painful reminders that he and I weren’t working.
“Come in,” I called out.
The door opened, and Carol stepped in.
“Hey,” she said quietly, holding a mug of coffee in her hands.
“Hey…”
“I brought you some coffee.” She placed the mug next to my computer and lingered, watching me. “How are you doing?”
I forced a small smile. “I’ll be okay.” I didn’t know if it was true, but what choice did I have? I had to keep going.
Carol’s expression didn’t shift. She wasn’t buying it.
“What are you going to do?”
I blinked at her. I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. I hadn’t told her about last night—about seeing Chris. I hadn’t had the strength to go there and remember how his voice had cracked, his eyes had been so heartbreakingly sad, or how that kiss had shattered me into a million pieces because I knew it was goodbye.
“About what?” I asked.
“George,” she clarified. “I heard everything, remember?”
Oh. That.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Last night had been such a mess, I hadn’t even had a second to process the weight of George’s words or what it actually meant to have that ring on my finger. Yeah, I was aware that made me a class-A asshole. The father of my kids deserved better than that. But who was I kidding? The only reason I had even let him slip that ring back was because I was hurting. For another man. That wasn’t fair—not to him, not to me, not to anyone.
No matter how much we had fought or neglected eachother as a couple, I couldn’t deny that George was a great father and an all-around good person. I looked down at the gold band on my finger, a wave of guilt crashing over me.
Shit. Take it off.I slid it off and set it on the table next to my phone.
“I know you think I should go back with him, but…” I started, trailing off.
“No, I don’t!” Carol cut in quickly, surprising me.
