Chapter 18
Maria - 26 Years Old
FROM THE PRIVATE NOTES OF DR. ANNA MORRIS
"Morning," I smiled up at Simon from my rumpled bed, my gaze fixed on his taut ass as it flexed with his movements.
"Hey," Simon yawned. He scratched his chest before bending to pick up his clothes.
I quickly sat up on my knees. "Are you leaving?" I tried not to sound sad, but I didn't expect him to cut and run so soon.
"Gotta hit the road, babe." He smothered another yawn.
Panic set in, but instead of reacting, I sent Simon what I hoped was a seductive and casual grin. "Why don't you take a shower first?" I suggested. "There's fresh towels by the sink, and I have your shower gel in your basket."
"Uh –"
"I can make you some coffee and toast before you leave. We had a late night, so you must be tired." I lowered my voice into a sultry tone, hoping to remind him of the delicious things he’d done to my body last night. And early this morning.
He sent me that crooked smile I adored so much. "That sounds great, actually. I'm fucking wiped after last night and could use a hot shower."
Pleasure warmed my chest. I was happy that my actions pleased my man—even though he was only my man in my head. Although, after last night, maybe we were headed for a new label.
Simon stared at my pointy nipples before his heated gaze swept down to my bare pussy. I could see his dick start to swell. My sex clenched, but only in memory of the marathon sex we had all night and into the early hours. Usually, I would be all in for another round, but my poor abused vagina needed a break. I sat back down on my legs and gave a shooing motion.
"Go on. Coffee and toast will be ready when you're out."
Once he left, I fell back onto my bed with a dreamy sigh. When Simon texted that he was coming to New Haven, I had no idea that the evening would end with an invite to Eden and Barron's engagement party. He'd never introduced me to his family before, so I was beside myself with excitement. I mean, not only was he introducing me, but it was also at a pretty important family event. That had to mean something, right?
A vibrating buzz had me lifting my head. Realizing Simon's phone was going off on my nightstand, I dropped my head back down. I knew I had to get a wriggle on to prepare Simon's promised toast and coffee, but I was too exhausted to move. Exhausted but happy.
As I replayed last night's activities, I grimaced when I recalled the only damper of the night.
Lissa.
She texted me yesterday evening wanting to hang out, and in my excitement, I stupidly gushed about Simon inviting me to his cousin's engagement party. Lissa's one-sided rivalry with Eden, Barron's fiance, was not at the forefront of my mind.
She’d been in a rage, bombarding me with texts demanding updates on my night. I felt rude relaying to her every single detail, right down to the decor, but then Simon left me alone for most of the night, and none of his family members seemed keen to entertain me, so I was left to my own devices. Unfortunately, that meant keeping a very angry best friend at bay.
I was disappointed in her behavior but also wasn’t surprised. I didn’t know what I expected. Maybe for Lissa to put aside this unwarranted disdain for Eden for one night and be happy that the man I was besotted with was finally bringing me around his family? Instead, she somehow managed to make it all about her. I loved Lissa, but she could be a lot of work.
Buzz. Buzz.
I sat up, annoyed. Whoever was trying to get a hold of Simon was relentless. It could be someone from his family or work. Work always kept him busy. I picked up the phone, intending to swing by the bathroom to pass the device over, just in case it was an emergency. His phone went off again in my hand, and I glanced down at the screen.
I did a double-take when I saw the number before I froze in shock.
"What?" I whispered, confused at what I was seeing. There was no name attached to the message, only a number. A number that had already sent him six messages.
A number I recognized.
Simon had set his texts up so only the name or number showed, not the details of the message. But there was no need for Simon to have her number. Definitely no reason for her to be texting him. Unless...
A trickle of unease slid down my neck. It was the same feeling I had when I’d tried calling Jason at his college, only for some giggly sorority girl to pick up. It was the same feeling I got when I came across Simon and Sofia in a dark corner last night, their expressions wide and innocent.
Trusting my instinct, I grabbed my phone with a shaky hand and brought up my best friend's name on my contact list. A quick look to compare her information had me sucking in a sharp, pained breath.
With my heart in my throat, I quickly thumbed in Simon's pin. I'd seen him enter it numerous times but never felt the urge to snoop. Until now.
The blood drained from my face as I read Lissa's messages. Messages that seemed to go on and on.
And not only messages.
I almost threw up when I came across her double D paid-by-Daddy boob job pics. There were a ton of them mixed in between the explicit texts. All of these went back months . Tears blurred my vision as I thumbed through, continuing to skim-read between bouts of nausea. It didn't matter that most of them came from Lissa or that Simon hadn't responded to nearly all of them. I needed to know the inception of their contact, the reason it all started.
And there they were.
The messages that confirmed my worst fears. As if the sexts and nude mirror selfies weren't enough. I needed irrefutable proof. I had enough experience being gaslit by fuck boys to know how to play their game.
All the times Lissa pretended to sympathize with me as I bemoaned my off-on relationship with Simon. The bullshit advice she fed me on how to keep him interested. The excitement she faked when I gushed about how I thought things were turning a corner for Simon and me.
That fucking lying, deceiving bitch.
I heard the shower turn off, and my murderous rage turned toward the second guilty party.
That fucking lying, deceiving bastard.
A red haze came over me before I let out a loud shriek that tore through the apartment. I stormed to the bathroom and threw Simon's phone against the closed door with a satisfying thunk.
"Arrgghh! Get out of there, you fucking asshole!" I banged my hands against the door until it suddenly opened, and I fell forward. I slapped Simon's traitorous hands away when he bent to help me up.
"Don't touch me, you lying, cheating bastard!" Hot, angry tears streaked down my face as I lifted my hand and connected my palm with his cheek.
"Ooof!" he grunted in surprise.
Uncaring whether I hurt him or not, I continued to lash out. My fists pounded against his chest, some connecting, most—unfortunately—dodged by him.
"Whoa, whoa!"
If I weren't so pissed, I would probably find it amusing watching Simon duck and twist while attempting to hold onto the towel around his waist. Speaking of waist...
"Stop! What the fuck are you doing? Maria, damn it, stop !" He twisted his torso away just as my knee went up towards his junk. Disappointed that my hits weren't landing, I shoved him back in fury.
"Get your stuff and get out!" I screamed.
My furious gaze landed on the small wicker basket on the corner of my counter. I remembered how excited I’d been to buy his favorite bathroom products and how I lovingly arranged them in the basket for him to use when he came over. Because he had started to come over more and more frequently. I didn't just create a specialized guest basket out of fucking nowhere.
Anger replaced embarrassment when I thought of the time and effort I wasted on this absolute shithead. I grabbed the basket and threw it against the wall.
"Stop this!" Simon demanded. He grabbed me from behind around my shoulders, holding me in place as I continued to kick and screech like a banshee. Not my finest moment.
"I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you, but you need to calm down!"
I went still at his words before my body tensed up, and I ripped through his arms in a blaze of adrenaline rage. I whirled around to face him, flames of outrage spitting from my wet eyes.
" Calm down? " I growled. " Calm down?!" I stormed forward, and he wisely jumped out of my way. I snatched up his phone and punched in his pin. When I pulled his texts up, he launched forward in a panic.
"Uh, listen, Maria –"
"What the fuck is this ?!" I held up the text thread and scrolled up... up... and up. "My best friend!" I cried. "You've been fucking my best friend!"
He winced, and a flash of guilt came over his face. But it was too late for regrets.
"It's not what you think, Maria." He held up his hands placatingly as he inched forward.
I scoffed at him as I held his phone up to read. "' I got off last night to the dirty things you did to me. When can we do it again?' " I quoted.
" 'I can't stop thinking about your big dick.' " I wanted to gag when I read that, but I pushed through the hurt as I continued to thumb through his phone.
"What were you doing going through my phone anyway?" he angrily hissed.
I huffed my breath out at his blatant attempt at deflection. "Your phone kept going off while you were showering," I spat out, "and when I glanced at it, I saw the number. I know that slut's number by heart. She was supposed to be my best friend!" I shook my head in disgust.
"Imagine my surprise when I saw that she sent you this !" He fell back as I shoved the image Lissa recently sent. It was a duck face selfie. A topless duck face selfie.
Simon made to grab his phone, but I jerked it out of reach.
"Look," he tightened the towel as it started to slip. "It was one time. We were both drunk."
I rolled my eyes. Like that was a fucking excuse. There would be a whole league of forgiven spouses if drunkenness were a solid reason for infidelity. And I believed his plea of it happening one time just as much as I believed my mom when she promised that her current boyfriend was "the one."
Simon squared his shoulders and looked me dead in the eye. "You and I aren't serious or exclusive anyway," he sneered, "so I don't know what the big deal is."
His words were such a gut punch to my stomach. I could feel the pain of his coarseness seeping through my wounded gaze.
"Not exclusive? Not serious? Why the fuck have you been sleeping with me all these years? Since I was fucking seventeen !" I yelled. The hand holding the incriminating evidence jabbed at him with each sentence. "Why have you been coming to New Haven nearly every month lately? Why do you stay with me when you have family here? Why have I wasted all these years on you?!"
Simon stood there, face pale as his mouth flapped like an idiot, unable to conjure up a rebuttal. Because there was no excuse. Because when I laid it all out there in verbal black and white, it dawned on him what an asshole he was. But more importantly— I knew he was an asshole. Yet, what did that make me?
A fool.
Simon's guilty gaze dropped to the phone, still tightly clasped in my hand. Lissa's bare breasts still showing in her full disloyal glory.
"Get out!" I slapped his shoulder and shoved him out of my bathroom and down the hallway toward my front door.
I was pretty surprised at my level of strength, but then again, I was running on the fumes of a woman scorned. It was the equivalent of someone gaining adrenaline in a moment of life or death where they could suddenly lift three times their weight.
"Wait, wait," he pleaded as he tried to dig his heels in. I ignored him and continued to push him towards my front door.
"My clothes," Simon begged. He was butt naked, save for his towel, but I didn't give a shit. I opened my front door, and with one last push, I had him stumbling into the hallway of my apartment complex.
"Here!" I threw his phone at his bare feet. "Call Lissa; maybe she'll take you in." And with that, I slammed the door in his face.
And then promptly burst into tears.