Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
JADE
I’m going to murder my husband and post his dick to that bitch, I swear to God.
If he doesn’t come home, then I’m leaving. I have no idea where I’m going to go, but I’ve had it with his shit.
It’s bad enough that he saw Mila-fucking-Harris; yet to get drunk with her and sleep in her room?
My emotions are on fire, and they’re leaving a trail of ash in their wake as they crash around my poor body. Rage, fury, upset, disbelief: it’s all here today.
Today—our anniversary. Five years of marriage, and where did my husband wake up?
In Mila Harris’s hotel room.
If that’s not bad enough, he’s still fucking there. I feel like he doesn’t give a flying fuck about me or our marriage. Because if the shoe were on the other foot, I’d be on a plane home by now.
If I were innocent, that is.
My stomach churns. There’s the possibility that Devon is telling the truth, that nothing happened, but then that leaves the other possibility.
That he’s lying.
My knees feel like Jello at the thought of Mila giggling as she kisses my husband, of his gorgeous body above her equally toned one, and I want to vomit.
I can’t entertain that. Devon wouldn’t.
Would he?
Oh, this is horrific.
What do I do?
I glance around me, seeing everything in a new light with this harsh reality.
The fridge where we used to scribble love notes to each other is now bare except for one shitty Malibu magnet that’s seen better days, the kitchen clock that’s still frozen in time because neither of us remembered to change the battery, and the huge pile of clean clothes neither of us could be bothered to put away.
Tears prick my eyes, and it stings. Like my heart felt when I saw the two of them together on the video call.
“Get it together, it could be innocent,” I tell myself, but it’s not sitting right with me, and I know why.
Because even if he is telling the truth and they did nothing, he still got drunk with her and walked her back to her room like a fucking teenager.
If she gets blind drunk and then can’t walk, why is it Devon’s job to take care of her?
Where are her friends? Or if she hasn’t got anyone there, don’t get in that state, right?
Why expect my husband to walk her back to her room?
And that’s not all.
First, I’m pissed that he hung up on me. I suddenly stiffen. Was she the reason he hung up on me?
Last but not least, he has the audacity to stay in New York.
Because I’m not his priority.
A lump settles in my throat, and I consider calling Katrina, but this is huge—if Devon cheated on me, I’ll need support. If he didn’t…I need to decide if how he’s treated me so far is acceptable.
My gut tells me it’s not.
I stare down at my laptop, thinking of the first book I wrote on there. It was based on me and Devon; a friends-to-lovers love story like no other.
Will I be writing their divorce next?
Fuck!
I drag a hand through my hair and inhale deeply, trying to get the image of Mila in that silky robe out of my mind.
Did she sleep in that? Who sleeps in a robe? How drunk was she to get changed and into a robe? Matter of fact, where was my husband while she got changed?
Oh God, this is vile. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.
I stare at my phone like it’s responsible for all of this, and my fists clench.
Why hasn’t he called me back? Is he coming back?
Tears stream down my cheeks when my eyes land on the anniversary card waiting for Devon near the coffee maker.
How did it come to this?
Then my phone rings. I snatch it up, not even checking the screen before whispering, “Hello?”
“Ooh, you sound like you’ve got a cold! Are you sick?”
It’s Katrina.
I close my eyes and try to control my breathing, but Katrina must hear my stifled sob.
“Jade?” Katrina says, the sound of the phone being picked up from speaker making her voice crystal clear. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
I don’t want to say it because then it will be real. Maybe if I say nothing, I will wake up in bed with Devon, and this will all be a bad dream.
Right?
Wrong.
“Jade? Right, I’m coming over—”
“It’s okay,” I say, trying to stop my sniveling. “I just…Devon…”
Don’t say it.
“Devon? Is he okay?” I can almost see the panic in Katrina’s baby blue eyes. The thought that something bad has happened to Devon—the same thought I had this morning when Ross called me.
I take a deep breath, trying not to hiccup.
“His colleague called me this morning, telling me Devon didn’t go back to the apartment they’re sharing last night.”
“Oh my god—” Katrina whispers, pain filling her voice.
“He’s fine,” I reassure her quickly. “More than fine.”
“What?”
“He…” My voice trails off as I try to think of a way to say it that doesn’t say it, but it’s impossible. “He spent the night in another woman’s hotel room.”
Katrina inhales sharply. “What?”
I nod miserably, even though she can’t see me. My gaze rests on the plain white envelope of his anniversary card, on my loopy handwriting.
“He said nothing happened, that he got drunk…”
“That fucking prick.”
“But when I called him this morning on a video call, he was in her bathroom. I saw her bra…her perfume…” I squeeze my eyes shut as though it will rid me of the image, but it doesn’t—it only makes it clearer, my imagination adding used condoms and all sorts to the mix.
I open my eyes. “She was in a robe. In the background.”
“Jade, sit down. I’m coming over.”
“He said nothing happened,” I wail as I do as she says and slump onto the sofa. “He wouldn’t, would he?”
“I’m on my way right now. Don’t do anything until I’m there.”
Katrina hangs up, and I can’t help but notice that’s the second time someone has hung up on me. At least I know my best friend is coming here to see me, not shacking up with some bitch from high school.
Pain rips through my heart, and it hurts to breathe. My head swims, and my body feels like it’s floating.
Am I having a panic attack? Is that what this is?
But I manage to calm my breathing and the racing of my heart, steadying myself by listing five things I can see, five things I can touch, and noting any smell.
Indian food. It’s in the trash; so that’s why. I should empty it.
Twenty minutes later, I’m still staring at the trashcan, and Katrina is rapping on my door.
My legs feel like lead; my stomach is empty despite the coffee. I want to be sick, but I also want to run away.
I don’t like this reality. I don’t want it.
I open the door, and Katrina strides in, wrapping me in her arms. She smells of Chanel No. 5, I notice, which is her power scent. She wears it when she’s got big meetings to give her confidence. Does she need confidence today?
I stare at her when she holds me at arm’s length, her eyes narrowed.
“Did he fuck her?”
I wince. “I hope not.”
Katrina frowns. “What do you mean? What do you think happened, Jade? He spent the night in her hotel room!”
I lift my shoulders, and then they droop back down, my pathetic attempt at a shrug. “He said nothing happened.”
Katrina scoffs, then her expression softens. “Tell me everything.”
So, I do. The worry of thinking he was missing, to the relief of seeing him alive and well. Then the heartache at seeing her behind him in a silky robe, her things strewn around the hotel bathroom.
“He went into her room? He does realize he’s a married man, right?” Katrina paces, shaking her head. “He didn’t have to do that.”
“No,” I reply glumly. “He didn’t.”
“Then he fell asleep in her room? Why did he even go into her room in the first place, Jade? If he was simply walking her back, why did he go in?” Katrina stops, looking at me over her shoulder. “You need to think, Jade; there’s no time for tears now.”
I sniff.
Katrina twists her body and crouches before me, her eyes searching mine. “I don’t want you to be taken for an idiot when you’re one of the best people I know.”
I try to smile, but everything feels wrong.
“So, do you believe him?” Katrina tilts her head, a worried expression on her face. “That nothing happened?”
I give a lazy shrug again. “I don’t know. He loves me…”
“But?” Katrina presses gently.
“He hung up on me, then he went off the radar after texting me to tell me he was with Grant.”
“The speaker guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Then he didn’t go back to the apartment because he was asleep in this woman’s room.”
“Mila.”
Katrina frowns. “What?”
“Her name is Mila.”
“I don’t give a fuck what her name is,” Katrina huffs.
“But she’s always wanted him.”
Katrina’s eyes bug wide. “You know this hoe?”
Ah, I forgot to mention that. “Mila went to high school with us. She’s always had this huge crush on Devon. She was always a bitch to me.”
Katrina looks horrified. “That makes this even worse! He knew she wanted him in high school, and then he spent the night in her fucking room?”
“Yeah—”
Katrina is storming around the room now, with no pacing in sight. “And she was a bitch to you? Did he know that too, I guess?”
I frown. “No, she never did it in front of him.”
Katrina gapes at me. “Did what, exactly?”
“I really don’t want to go into this right now.” I drop my head into my hands.
“Jesus, Jade! I’m so sorry, girl. Is he on his way home?”
I sigh. “I don’t know—I told him if he wasn’t back tonight, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Absolutely. Let’s pack your stuff—you can stay at mine.”
I lift my head. “But he might come back?”
Katrina shoots me a look. “It’s your anniversary, and he’s woken up in some mean girl’s hotel room. Fuck whether he comes back.”