“Do you want to arrange something with Alicia for this weekend?”
He looks at me with that impassive expression he thinks hides everything, but his eyes betray him; there’s no way to miss the barely contained fury.
“What were you doing with that man? Are you two seeing each other? Is that it?”
I ignore his questions. “If you don’t have anything to talk about regarding Alicia or Ethan, I’m going inside. Good night, Colin.”
He catches my wrist before I can step past him, but the moment I turn to face him, he drops his hand as if my skin burned him.
“You were dancing together, weren’t you? I heard your conversation with Alicia.”
“That is none of your business, Colin.”
His fists clench, the veins in his neck pulsing with every frustrated heartbeat.
“I saw the way he touched your face. The way you—how you... you looked at him. I saw.” He spits it out, his control slipping with each passing second. “I saw you two before Alicia noticed you were there, he had his hands on you!”
His voice rises with every word, letting his jealousy and entitlement twist into one ugly outburst.
I draw a breath, refusing to give him the reaction he wants. Summoning a patience I do not feel, I begin. “Let me ask you something, Colin.” I keep my gaze on his. “A year ago, back when we were married... in July... where exactly were you at this hour on a Friday night?”
His jaw ticks. He knows what’s coming.
“Because I can tell you without a doubt where you weren’t,” I continue. “You weren’t at home. You weren’t sitting at the table with me and our children. You weren’t being a husband or a father.”
Refusing to look away, I keep going. “You were doing what you shouldn’t, with someone you shouldn’t. July is when your relationship with her began, when your nighttime trips to her apartment started.”
The confirmation that the words land where I intended is in the fury in his eyes, yes, but I can see more underneath it. The guilt. The truth he hates to look at.
“Colin,” I say firmly, “I don’t owe you an explanation about my life. And months ago, I signed a piece of paper that made that perfectly clear. The only time you’ll hear about my personal life is if I ever decide to introduce someone to our children. Until then, my life is my own. You don’t get to have everything you want, whenever you want it anymore. Not from me.”
His nostrils flare and his hands clench and unclench endlessly.
“If the conversation isn’t about our children,” I finish, “then there is nothing we need to discuss.”
He drags both hands through his hair, turning his back for a second before facing me again, eyes no longer furious, but pleading.
“Ceci, I need to know. If you’re seeing him—I need to know. Please... whatever is happening, I have to know. Why him?”
I shake my head and adjust my purse strap.
“No, you don’t,” I say, keeping my tone even. “If and when I’m with someone else, and I’m not introducing him to our children or making him a part of our lives, you don’t need to know. If and when I choose to be with another man, that isn’t your concern. It’s a part of my life you no longer have any right or access to.”
His expression hardens at that, becoming colder. Defensive.
“You two had something before, didn’t you?” he says, his voice tight with accusation. “That’s why you greeted him the way you did at the gala. All that story about a neighbor bringing fish, that was just a cover.”
I take a step back, caught off guard.After everything... after everything he did... he dares to say this?
“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer. I’m not going to explain myself or try to convince you otherwise.”
His throat works, but I don’t let him speak.
“Just don’t compare me to you,” I continue, each word sharper than the last. “If you were the one inventing elaborate stories to cover your tracks, that’s on you. That’s whoyouchose to be.”
I shake my head, tired of this whole fiasco. “Don’t use the same measuring stick for the two of us.”
I turn my back to him, my conscience clear and at peace with who I am, and start walking toward the door.
