Chapter Nineteen #2
“But you did.” Linc’s voice is tight, controlled, like he’s one wrong word from laying Julian out. “And for what? Some random ass?” He snickers.
That’s right, baby. Tell him.
There are a few slow, hard footsteps, but I’m too scared to move and make a noise to get closer to see what’s happening.
“You’re right.” There’s a coolness to Julian’s tone, like he’s trying to maintain his composure. “I’ll admit, it sort of took me off guard, hearing about you two.”
Hearing about us? How?
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“ Mm-hmm … I mean, I’d heard about y’all back when she was at State.
Had yourself a little fling, ended up begging on your hands and knees for her to choose you…
” Julian huffs out a small, humorless laugh.
“Couldn’t be me. But, uh, I’m just curious—did you think she was actually going to choose you when she had me? ”
This mother—
“Fuck you!” Linc takes the words right out of my mouth, making me proud. “What, you scared that she was with you all those years, wishing she was with me?”
Julian barks out a raucous laugh and starts to say something, but I miss it when something moves behind me, and I almost jump out of my skin.
Luckily, it’s only Vincent.
“Hey, Linc is in there with Julian,” I explain sheepishly, still clutching my chest. Then I giggle. “I’m eavesdropping.”
We all are, he mouths, circling his finger in the air.
A laugh bubbles in the back of my throat as I imagine the entire crew scattered about the manor with their ears pressed to walls and doors, working hard to get the scoop.
Vincent inches forward, and that’s when I notice his leather loafers are off and he’s tiptoeing barefoot toward the study. I can’t tell whether his motive is simply to hear better or to be ready in case Linc needs backup, but I bend down and unbuckle my heels too.
“For ten years?” Julian sucks his teeth loudly. “Nah. She could’ve left any time she wanted to.”
I grab my heels, holding them by the straps, and tiptoe closer too, trying to catch up to Vincent, who’s got his ear pressed to the door.
“Who, the divorcétante? I’m pretty sure she said you made her feel invisible and underappreciated. Yikes ! ” Linc laughs, and I couldn’t love him more. “‘Couldn’t be happier to be a walkaway wife,’ I think she said. ‘I wish I’d left sooner.’”
The tension is thick, and my heart is pounding so fast.
I just know this isn’t going to end well.
“Damn, Julian. The woman had to go and reinvent herself because you made her feel like she was disappearing in your marriage.”
I adore Linc for watching The Divorcétante Chronicles .
But then he hammers the nails into the coffin. “Rest assured, though, Jules, I see her, and my plan is to spend every day and night for the rest of my life appreciating the hell out of her perks—”
“You sorry motherfucker, that’s my wife you’re talking about…” Julian’s grunt is followed by furniture scraping against the floor, then shuffling footsteps. There’s scuffling, stumbling, and heavy breathing as he continues cursing Linc.
PUNCH!
Someone groans, crashing into furniture.
In the hall, I’m on pins and needles, debating whether to enter the room.
“Ex-wife, you mean!” Linc corrects him, feet still moving. “Because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants. Didn’t anyone ever tell you about the eighty/twenty rule? You had a hundred at home.”
PUNCH!
Again, one of them coughs and groans, sounding like he’s taking an absolute beatdown, but he’s too stubborn to know when to step back.
“See how I extended my arm while rotating to make sure my fist lands with my knuckles?” Linc chuckles like he’s unfazed. “I hope you’re taking notes there, buddy, because that was a weak-ass punch you threw.
“That’s for Ebony.” PUNCH! PUNCH! “And that’s for making her sit back and deal with your sorry ass while you were fucking around with Hillary Winston and Nora Whitfield. And whoever the hell else.”
I gasp, my heartbeat thumping in my ears.
Suddenly, the dull thud of a fist connecting with flesh and bone cracks the air, and then a body hits the ground with a thunderous crash.
“ Oof! ” Julian groans. “Fuck you, Linc. You’re going to hear from my lawyer.”
“And say what? That you threw the first punch?” Linc counters.
On autopilot, I turn the doorknob and swing the door open. I don’t have the energy to assess the damage to the room or my disgusting ex-husband laid out on the floor, choking and coughing. I don’t care about him.
My attention is fixed on Lincoln looking unruffled and directly at me.
“You said Hillary.” The words squeak out of me, weak, even to my own ears.
Linc takes wide strides, rushing to my side, his expression urgent and panicked. “Baby, that’s what I tried to tell you that night at the bar. I saw Julian with Hillary, and I was going to tell you.”
A sharp pain tightens my chest.
That was three years ago.
My mind winds back to all the dinners and events where Hillary would laugh and joke with Julian, their conversations always so effortless and comfortable.
I remember thinking, How lucky am I that my friends love my husband so much?
They always seemed so at ease with each other. But now, I guess I know why.
My heart stalls all over again as I think about the half-assed apology she texted back when I called her.
I’m sorry. I’m not ready to explain yet, but I will soon.
This time, though, fire doesn’t surge through my veins. I don’t have the urge to lash out.
Instead, I close my eyes, lowering my head, vacillating between disbelief, hurt, and disappointment in myself that, again, I’ve trusted the wrong person.
The wrong people.
Julian’s wheezing laughs pollute the air. He’s enjoying every minute of Linc’s discomfort.
“Baby, are you mad at me?” Linc cradles my face in his hands, frantically searching my eyes. “Talk to me.”
“No, I just… I think I’m going to work on client calls from home today. I need some time to process all of this. I’ll…I’ll see you later,” I say. But as I turn toward the door where Vincent is standing, eyes wide, staring at his phone, his phone pings.
Then Linc’s and Julian’s, do too.
“Vincent?”
His gaze snaps to mine, horror glazing over his over-steeped brown eyes. “Ebony…” He flips the screen to me, and there it is. Proof that my intuition is firing on all cylinders. That my theory wasn’t unfounded.
Ellswood Prince Breaks Silence on Shocking Claims of Divorcétante’s Decade-Long Love Affair
See the cheating photos that ended their marriage
I take the phone and scroll through pictures of Linc and me—kissing on the grand staircase here, in the rain outside the dating mixer, at Whisk & Whistle, and on the observation deck at Amicalola Falls.
A gasp pushes past my lips. “What the hell…”
As I zoom in, though, I notice the photo credit beneath each image. Benson Marks. My mind wades through a sea of names, trying to place it. Then it hits me.
The PI.
Cornelia hired the same one I hired to follow Julian. I didn’t imagine seeing someone outside Madison Manor the night Linc and I kissed on the stairs. I’m the one Benson was following—at the mixer, at brunch with Zeek…
I was right.
A manic energy floods through me as I meet Vincent’s stare. Concern and pity are etched into the shadows and lines of his face. I’m waiting for him, for anyone, to tell me this is a nightmare and now I can wake up.
But no one does.