Have dinner with me. Tomorrow night, 8pm. We need to discuss our relationship. I need to know where this is going, Jenna. This is driving me crazy.
Car will collect you. - C
The gall of the man. Why is he doing this to me? Every time I try to forget him, he pulls this shit.
But I get it.
I have been pretty mercurial.
I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper, my eyes darting nervously toward the staircase as if Reeves might somehow materialize from thin air and catch me red-handed with this incriminating evidence.
But he's not here. Is he? He’s at the pool hall working hard, or hardly working, probably flirting with some young girls like I've seen him doing before. He says he's just being friendly, that it's all par for the course.
Still, the guilt gnaws at my stomach like hunger pangs. Here I am, sitting on our hallway floor in the house we share, holding a dress that costs more than our monthly mortgage payment, sent by a man who isn't my husband.
The rational part of my brain screams that this is wrong on every conceivable level, but there's another part—a darker, more selfish part—that whispers how incredible it feels to be desired by someone like Caine Hall. Someone who sees me as more than just a wife or a mom.
He won't know, I tell myself again, the words echoing in the quiet hallway like a mantra. But even as I think it, I can feel the weight of the lie settling into my bones.
The dress is exactly my size. Of course it is. Caine notices everything.
I carefully return it to the box and hide it in the back of my closet, behind my winter sweaters. What am I doing? This is supposed to be over. The painting is meant to be a thank-you and a final goodbye, not an invitation for more.
Yet I find myself imagining the pearls my grandmother left me—my only possession of value—against my neck, complementing the dress's neckline perfectly.
One last night. One final goodbye, but on my terms this time.
How will I ever explain this to Reeves? The thought fills me with dread, but not enough to make me put the dress back in its box and return it.
The meatloaf sits between us like a brick wall, steam rising from its surface while silence fills our kitchen. Liam pushes peas around his plate, humming softly to himself, blissfully unaware of the tension crackling between his parents.
"I need to tell you something." The words tumble out before I lose my nerve.
Reeves looks up from his plate, his dark eyes immediately suspicious. "What now?"
"Caine asked me to dinner. Tomorrow night." I force myself to meet his gaze. "I'm going."
His fork clatters against his plate. "The fuck you are."
"Language," I whisper, glancing at Liam, who's still absorbed in his food.
"Don't you dare tell me about language when you're sitting here telling me you're going on a date with another man." His voice drops to a dangerous growl. "Have you lost your goddamn mind?"
Heat flashes through my chest. "You want to talk about losing minds? How about losing twenty thousand dollars of our son's future?"
"That's different—"
"Is it?" I lean forward, my voice matching his intensity. "You keep secrets, I keep secrets. Seems fair to me."
His jaw clenches, that familiar vein pulsing in his temple. The one that appears right before he explodes. "So that's what this is? Revenge?"
"This is survival, Reeves. You gambled away our safety net. Again. After promising me you'd stopped."
"I had a sure thing—"
"There's no such thing as a sure thing!" The words burst out louder than intended. Liam looks up, his big brown eyes wide with concern.
"It's okay, baby," I say softly, forcing a smile. "Mommy and Daddy are just talking."
