1. Lilah #2
With a nod, she inches her way closer to Devon. “He was going to tell you this weekend.”
Oh my God.
It’s like a hatch opens up beneath me and I’m in free fall.
Is this really happening?
I refocus my attention on Devon even as my head continues to spin. “I-is it true?”
For the first time since I stumbled upon them, ruddy color floods his cheeks, and his gaze darts away. “Yeah, it is.”
“Four months?” I shake my head as my knees weaken. Any moment now, I’m going to crumble to the floor. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The situation is complicated,” he says with a huff.
“Complicated? You’re having a baby with another woman while living with me.” When he presses his lips together, I raise my voice. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to continue living a double life?”
His hand drifts to the back of his neck, rubbing it like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
That makes two of us.
“I was trying to figure out a way to break things off without hurting you.”
A sharp laugh falls from my lips. “Well, congrats. You failed miserably on that front.”
“It would seem that I did.”
Marissa clears her throat and raises her brows at Devon .
Apparently, there’s more.
For fuck’s sake, how much worse could this get?
He shifts. “The two of us talked about it, and we feel that, given the situation, it would be best if you put in your notice.”
My eyes widen. “You… want me to quit?”
Marissa sidles up to Devon before wrapping her arm around him and leaning into his side. “It would be awkward to have you around when this should be a happy and stress-free time for me.” Her hand settles on her abdomen. “And our baby.”
“You’re absolutely right. I can see how my presence would be an uncomfortable reminder that you’ve been screwing my boyfriend behind my back for months.”
Devon frowns before dropping a kiss against the top of Marissa’s dark head. “There’s no reason we can’t handle this situation like adults.”
“You’ve had months to wrap your brain around what you two have been up to. I, on the other hand, just stumbled across it. So, you’ll have to excuse me if I’m still trying to play mental catchup.”
The look he gives me is pitying, and I hate it. “Let’s be honest, Lilah. Our parents talked us into this relationship, and for a while, it was easy and comfortable.”
I nod, the sting replaced by a clarity I didn’t have before walking through that door. He’s not wrong. Our family connection helped me land the job and then our parents kept throwing us together at every opportunity.
“If you didn’t want to be in a relationship, then you should have manned up and said something instead of lying to me, all the while screwing around behind my back with a colleague.”
“It’s not like we were friends,” Marissa interjects.
As if that somehow makes it better.
Or absolves her .
“I guess that’s why you had every right to take what was mine.”
“He was never yours to begin with,” she says quietly.
“Wow. Okay, I guess we’re done here.” Even though there’s so much more I want to say, I keep it trapped inside. Instead, I reach up and tear my work badge from my blouse before tossing it onto his desk.
As I spin on my heel and stride to the door, Devon says, “I’ll have all your belongings boxed up from the apartment. Just let me know where to send them.”
Un-fucking-believable.
I straighten my spine. “Once I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”
Even though it’s tempting to slam the door until it rattles on its hinges, I close it quietly behind me.
Fuck him.
And her.
Oh God… Devon and Marissa are not only having an affair, they’re having a baby together. I want to double over with the pain that floods my system.
Is this really the same man who, just six months ago, laughed when I brought up the possibility of having children before letting me know that parenthood wasn’t in his five-year plan?
And now he’s having a baby with another woman.
My mind continues to spin and my hands tremble as I step inside the elevator. It takes forever as it descends to the lobby.
As I pass by Mike for a second time, he glances at the Chicago Railers jersey I’m wearing beneath my jacket. “Have fun at the game tonight, Ms. Monroe.”
“Thanks, I will.” I’m barely able to hold back the tears that prick my eyes.
When I finally step onto the street, the cool night air hits me hard, grounding me just enough to realize that my life has changed in the blink of an eye.
I’m jobless.
Homeless.
And the man I thought I’d one day marry is now my ex.
The weight of it all crashes down on me in an instant, leaving me frozen and unable to think about what happens next for me.
Emotion bubbles up, threatening to break loose, and that’s the last thing I want.
I refuse to break down on this street, in front of the strangers rushing by.
Or where Devon and Marissa can walk out of his office and see the damage they’ve inflicted firsthand.
Even though it feels impossible, I square my shoulders and walk down the street a few blocks to a small patch of greenery with a park bench. When my phone rings, I silence it without glancing at the screen.
There’s no way I can talk to anyone right now.
Not when I’m feeling so scraped raw inside.
Not to mention, like such an idiot.
The entire time I sit on the bench, staring into space, I can’t help but comb over the previous couple months, looking for clues of his infidelity.
All the looks and conversations between them that I played off, scolding myself for being jealous.
Clearly, I was right to be suspicious, and I should have listened to my instincts.
Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so blindsided.
I could have better protected myself.
It’s only when I’m surrounded by total darkness that I fight my way out of the fog that has descended and glance at my phone.
It’s a jolt to realize that three hours have slipped by and I’ve missed the game.
I need to go.
There’s no way I can stay here.
But where to ?
Devon’s apartment is off the table. They’re probably there right now, gleefully packing up my things like it’s some kind of celebration.
Even though I’m outside with the chilly fall breeze whipping at my cheeks, it still feels like everything is closing in on me. Any moment, I’m going to have a panic attack.
I squeeze my eyes tightly closed and focus on drawing air into my lungs, holding it for a few beats before gradually releasing it back into the atmosphere. I do that over and over until my heart rate settles and I’m able to think clearly.
Only then do I pull my phone out of my pocket and order a car before noticing a slew of texts and missed calls from Steele.
I wince.
He’s probably frantic by now.
For just a second, I consider calling him, but then I shove the phone back into my pocket. The moment I hear his voice, I’ll end up breaking down. And that’s the last thing I want to happen. This conversation is something that needs to be done in person.
As soon as the vehicle rolls up, I slide into the back seat and rattle off the address.