His body remains rigid against mine. No arms wrapping around me, no kiss pressed to the top of my head. Nothing. After a moment, I pull back, studying his face. His dark eyes stare through me like I'm made of glass.
"Daddy!" Liam comes barreling down the stairs, and Reeves’s entire demeanor shifts. His face softens as he kneels, opening his arms wide.
"Hey, buddy. Did you miss me?"
"I missed you so much! Mommy said you were working,but I knew you weren't at the pool hall because we went there yesterday."
Reeves shoots me a look over Liam's head - cold, accusatory. My cheeks burn.
I make his favorite dinner. Pot roast with potatoes and carrots, the recipe my mother taught me years ago. I set the table with our good plates, light a candle, try to create some semblance of normalcy.
We sit in silence except for Liam's chatter about his day at school. Reeves responds to our son with forced enthusiasm, but when Liam asks him a question about me, Reeves’s jaw tightens.
"Ask your mother."
The words cut deeper than any accusation. I pick at my food, my appetite gone. This isn't anger anymore - this is something colder. More final.
When bedtime comes, he doesn't even look at me as he heads to the guest room with his pillow. The click of the door feels like a verdict.
I lie in our empty bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe I deserve this. Maybe this silent treatment is exactly what I've earned. But the uncertainty gnaws at me worse than his anger ever could.
Does he want to fix this? Or is this his way of letting our marriage die slowly, quietly, without words?
I'm restocking the beer cooler when Liza's sharp intake of breath makes me look up. Beautiful Caine is walking in our direction, shoulders squared and jaw set with determination.
"Holy shit," Liza whispers. "Does he have a death wish?"
My heart stops.
He's wearing that charcoal suit that makes his eyes look like emeralds, but there's something different about him today—something dangerous and resolute.
He surveys the pool hall until his gaze finds mine, and I see the flash of concern that crosses his features when he takes in my appearance. I know I look like hell. I haven't slept, barely eaten, and the stress of the last few days has left me hollow-eyed and pale.
But I couldn’t give a shit about that right now.
What in the hell is he doing here?
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
"What are you doing here?" I mouth the words, but he's already moving past me, his attention fixed behind the bar.
Reeves emerges from the back office. We haven't talked since my confession three days ago. I’ve respected his silence—I thought it was best to give him space, time to let his anger settle and his shock wear off before we attempted to discuss our future—because there's just too much we need to work through, too many painful truths that need to be laid bare.
The silence between us has been deafening, filled with all the words we're both too afraid to say.
The moment his eyes land on Caine, his entire body goes rigid. His face transforms into something I barely recognize—pure rage mixed with pain and betrayal.
"You've got some fucking nerve showing up here," Reeves growls, his voice carrying across the quiet hall.
"We need to talk," Caine says, his voice steady but respectful. "Man to man."
Reeves lets out a bitter laugh that makes my skin crawl. "Man to man? You think you're a man? Real men don't fuck other men's wives."
"Reeves, please—" I start, but he cuts me off with a sharp look.
"Follow me," he barks at Caine, jerking his head toward the back office. "Let's settle this properly."
My stomach drops as I watch them disappear into the cramped space. I can't let this happen—not here, not like this. I rush after them, Liza's worried voice calling my name behind me.
