Session 33

Chapter Thirty two

Fuck. How did people deal with guilt on an everyday basis without jumping off a building?

I sat on the couch, staring at my phone, my thoughts running in circles. I couldn’t stop thinking about the number I’d stupidly saved in my contacts—but I couldn’t even remember the bitch's name to delete it. Her name being in my phone felt like a ticking time bomb, a reminder of how close I’d come to fucking everything up. The thrill I’d gotten from the encounter had been intoxicating—a flash of my old life. The days when I didn’t have to think about anyone but myself. But was it worth how I was feeling now? Hell no.

"What the hell was I thinking?" I muttered under my breath, running a hand over my face. Stupid. If Angel found out, she’d fuck me up. I was an idiot for even entertaining the thought, especially after I’d just gotten in a fight with Silas about not being that guy anymore.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, the door creaked open. I looked up to see Angel walk in. She looked beautiful, as always, but now she always looked exhausted. Pregnancy was kicking her ass, but I was grateful she was going through everything for our baby. I’d make sure she and my child never wanted for anything. I quickly plastered on a smile, hoping she wouldn’t read me. Was guilt visible?

"Hey, baby," she greeted, her voice soft but curious. "What's going on?"

I stood up, meeting her in the foyer, blocking her view as she took off her shoes. "Hey, pretty," I replied, walking over and pulling her into a tight hug. Her scent calmed my nerves. It felt like I was holding onto the one person keeping me from spiraling out of control.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at me, a frown on her face. "You okay? You seem... off."

For a second, I hesitated. The urge to spill everything, to snitch on myself, was strong, even though I hadn’t really done anything. But the fear of losing her kept my mouth shut. "I'm good," I lied, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Angel raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced but willing to let it slide. “I have a surprise for you,” I said, taking her arm and leading her to the living room. Her face lit up when she noticed the setup I had arranged—lavender-scented candles, a massage chair, a foot bath, and all the necessary tools for a pedicure. The professional pedicurist I’d hired stood by—a young gal from one of the nail schools everyone in this one Facebook group recommended. Pretty, thick, skin the color of caramel. She smiled warmly.

"What's all this?"

"Just thought you could use some pampering," I said, trying to sound casual. "I wanted to do something nice for you."

She smiled, a small but genuine smile that made my heart ache with guilt. "It's sweet, Cassius."

I shrugged. "You deserve it," I insisted, guiding her to the chair. "Let them take care of you. You need a break."

As the pedicure began, I tried to relax, sitting back down on the couch. But my mind kept racing. What was that bitch’s name? I wouldn’t feel better until I could erase that mistake before it turned into something more. Sure, I had other women’s numbers in my phone, but this was different—intentional.

I watched Angel close her eyes, letting the tension slip away. I felt a pang of something—jealousy, maybe? She seemed so at ease while I was barely holding it together.

"What's wrong?" Angel's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

I looked up, startled. "What?"

She sighed, her eyes searching mine. "You've been acting strange. Extra attentive. It's sweet, but... is there something you're not telling me?"

Panic flared in my chest, but I quickly smothered it. I forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. "Just wanted to remind you how much I love you," I said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "That's all."

Angel didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she let it go. We continued the evening, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy. During dinner, I kept the conversation light, talking about the future and our plans for the baby. But every word felt like a lie, a cover-up for the secrets I was keeping. The tension between us was palpable, and I hated it.

After dinner, as we lay in bed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was on borrowed time. I held Angel close, trying to find comfort in the warmth of her body. But my mind kept drifting back to that stupid number in my phone, the one mistake that could unravel everything.

I kissed the top of her head, whispering, "I love you, Angel."

She snuggled closer, her voice muffled against my chest. "I love you too."

But as I stared up at the ceiling, the weight of my guilt felt heavier than ever. I knew I had to make a choice—either come clean and risk losing everything or keep the secret and hope it never came to light. But deep down, I knew that secrets have a way of surfacing, no matter how deeply they're buried.

For now, I chose silence. But as Angel’s breathing steadied, indicating she was asleep, I couldn’t help but wonder how long I could keep this up. How long before everything came crashing down? And would I be able to pick up the pieces if it did?