Chapter Seven
Jess
I stare at Logan as he leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other like we’re discussing something casual.
His expression is cold. Detached.
I’ve seen that look before, in conference rooms, dealing with problematic clients, when someone tried to push him too far.
I’ve just never seen it aimed at me.
I guess this is the Logan people are scared of.
“You don’t mean that,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t answer.
He just keeps looking at me with that same dead, unreadable stare.
The silence stretches until I start squirming in my seat.
“We have kids, Logan,” I try again, my voice shaking no matter how hard I fight to keep it steady. “You can’t just be done with me. You can’t dump me like we’re high school sweethearts. We’re married.”
His jaw tightens.
“The kids are the only reason I’m here right now,” he says. “The only reason.”
He says the words so calmly, he’s nearly whispering. I’d almost prefer yelling. At least yelling would mean he still cared enough to be angry.
Swallowing, I force myself to ask, “So what, you’re going to move out?”
“No,” he says flatly.
I blink.
His eyes harden. “Why would I? I’m not the one who slept with someone else.”
The way he says it makes me flinch.
“So, you want me to move out?” I ask, my chest tight.
“No. I’m not asking you to move out. I understand that I don’t have the right to tell you to leave,” he replies.
Something about his tone raises my hackles. It’s careful, rehearsed.
He continues, calm and clinical. “I’d never keep you from the kids.”
The way he says it, like he’s repeating a line from a script, makes unease crawl up my spine.
“Did you…” I hesitate. “Did you talk to a lawyer?”
For the first time, his expression flickers.
“I didn’t go to one,” he says.
Relief starts to bloom in my chest.
“But,” he adds, “it’s not my fault one sat down next to me.”
My stomach drops.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
He pushes his chair back and stands.
“Take it how you want,” he says. “But know one thing, Jess.”
His eyes lock on mine.
“I will not be a weekend dad.”
I sit there, stunned, as he walks out of the kitchen without another word.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Simone says as I sit on her sofa with a glass of wine I haven’t touched.
She should be relaxing, focusing on herself and setting up the nursery, not dealing with my mess. But I didn’t have anywhere else to go.
“You didn’t see his face,” I whisper. “He looked at me like I was… nothing.”
She watches me thoughtfully; her arms crossed over her stomach.
“There wasn’t hate,” I continue. “There wasn’t even resentment. There was just… nothing. Like I was a stranger.”
Simone exhales slowly. “You can’t really blame him.”
I give her a tight, humorless smile. “No. I can’t.”
“Jess-”
“God,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my eyes. “This is not how I expected him to react.”
She tilts her head. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I thought he’d yell. Scream. Cry. Something.”
Instead of that cold, quiet calm that scared me more than any shouting match ever could.
Simone leans forward. “You lied to him, Jess.”
I sit up straighter. “Why is everyone so stuck on that?”
Her eyebrows lift. “Are you serious right now?”
I stare at her. “Wait. Are you… mad at me?”
She lets out a sharp breath. “I’m not mad.”
I watch her warily, knowing she’s not done.
“I’m disappointed,” she corrects.
“What?” I huff.
“You lied,” she says bluntly. “Not only to him, but to everyone. I spent months worried about you, thinking you were the only one who got hurt in all of this.”
Her words sting. I deserve them to.
“I defended you,” she continues. “Every time Darren asked why I treated his brother like crap, I said it was because he hurt my friend.”
She shakes her head. “And the whole time you were sitting on this.”
“Sim-”
“He kissed someone else,” she cuts in. “And his first reaction was to tell you. To be honest. And you… didn’t.”
“His first reaction wasn’t to tell me,” I snap. “No. His first reaction was to spend the night with her.”
“But he wasn’t with her,” Simone shoots back. “It was his job.”
“Was it?” I ask bitterly. “He could’ve called someone to take over. He could’ve called me. Instead, he ordered room service.”
She frowns. “How do you even know that?”
I lean back against the couch. “I saw it. On the hallway footage.”
“Right,” she says flatly. “Of course you did.”
Then her tone hardens.
“Well, the time to ask all those questions was before.”
I open my mouth, but she keeps going.
“Now it’s not about him, Jess. It’s about you. You messed up.”
Her eyes lock on mine.
“And blaming Logan isn’t going to fix that.”
“I’m not blaming him,” I insist. “I’m just-”
“No.” She cuts me off sharply. “Don’t just anything.”
I open my mouth again, but she doesn’t let me.
“You and I both know an apology with a ‘but’ in it isn’t really an apology.” She leans back, arms crossed again. “And before you say it, yes, I’m taking this personally.”
I blink. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m married to his brother,” she says tightly. “I’m carrying his baby. How the hell am I supposed to pick your side in all of this?”
Her jaw clenches.
I laugh, but it comes out shaky, more like a sob. “So, what, you’re just gonna take his side? The West side?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not just that. You know my history with cheaters.”
The guilt twists deeper.
I do know her history. I was there when she found out her ex had been sleeping with a ‘friend’. I held her while she cried. I helped her pack his things into trash bags. I even helped her egg his car.
Back then, I’d sworn I’d never forgive someone who cheated.
And now here I am.
I ask the question that’s been sitting in my chest all day.
“What can I do, Sim?”
She looks at me for a long moment.
Then she sighs. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”
Her words are more brutal than I expected.
She continues quietly, “The reason everyone is focused on the lie is because… everyone makes mistakes. You were hurt. You were drunk. I get that. He probably gets that too.”
I nod weakly.
“But eleven months, Jess.”
Her voice softens, but there’s no kindness in it.
“You had eleven months to come clean. You weren’t drunk then. You had time to think, to decide, to be honest.”
She leans back against the couch.
“And you chose not to. So now, he’s making a choice too.”
I stare at her, my throat tight.
“And you might not like what he chooses.”
Logan
The knock on the door catches me off guard.
I wasn’t expecting anyone. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to still be sitting on the couch at four in the afternoon, staring at the wall like a damn idiot.
Jess has been gone all day.
No texts. No calls. Nothing.
Just silence.
I drag myself up and open the door.
“Hey,” Darren says, rolling in without waiting for an invitation.
“Hey,” I answer. “Why aren’t you at work?”
He gives me a look. “Dad called.”
Of course he did.
I step aside so he can get through the doorway easier. He wheels into the living room and stops in front of the couch, eyeing me.
“You look like hell,” he says.
“Thanks.”
He shrugs. “It’s my job as your little brother to be honest.”
I let my head fall back against the cushion. “I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh.”
He waits.
I don’t say anything.
Finally, he sighs. “So. You kicked your wife out?”
“I didn’t kick her out,” I snap. “She left.”
“Semantics.”
“It’s not semantics.”
He studies me for a second. “She really cheated?”
I rub a hand over my face. “Yeah.”
“Dad said you asked for his lawyer?”
That makes me hesitate. Darren notices immediately.
“Ah,” he says. “There it is.”
“Shut up.”
He leans back in his chair. “Logan, it’s been one day.”
“I know it’s been one day,” I shoot back. “Believe me, I’m aware.”
He raises a brow. “Then why are you rushing into a divorce?”
“I’m not rushing,” I mutter.
“Bullshit.”
I glare at him. “I’m allowed to be angry.”
“No one said you weren’t.”
“Good.”
“But,” he continues, “you’re also the guy who can’t stay mad at anyone he loves for longer than twenty-four hours.”
I point at him. “That is not true.”
He snorts. “Please. Growing up, I’d break your shit and you’d swear you’d never talk to me again.”
“I was mad.”
“Yeah,” he says, smirking. “For about twelve hours. Then you were asking if I wanted pizza.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because you’re my brother.”
“And Jess is your wife.”
I go quiet.
He watches me carefully. “You’ve always been like this, man. You avoid conflict with people you care about. You get mad, you explode, and then you cool off and pretend everything’s fine or you cut that person out for good.”
“That’s not-”
“Your therapist literally called it… what was it?”
I scowl. “Conflict Avoidance.”
“Look,” Darren says, his tone softer now. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be pissed. Hell, if Simone ever did that to me, I’d lose my damn mind.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“I’m just saying…” Darren continues, “don’t make permanent decisions based on how you feel right now.”
I stare at the floor.
“That’s exactly what Hayley said,” I admit.
He frowns. “Who’s Hayley?”
“This woman I met last night.”
His brows shoot up.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I snap. “I went to a bar to get drunk. She sat down next to me.”
“Uh-huh,” he mutters, smirking.
“Shut the fuck up,” I say. “She hit on me, alright? But I didn’t do anything. I just… ended up telling her more than I should have.”
Darren tilts his head. “You dumped everything on a stranger.”
I huff. “Whatever. Turns out she’s been divorced more than once. And she told me pretty much the same thing you just did.”
His smirk fades a little. “So, where’d the divorce talk come from then?”
I don’t answer right away.
He studies me, eyes narrowing. “Dad.”
I nod. “More like Manuel.”
Darren groans. “I hate that fucking guy.”
He pushes himself up slightly and does that weird stretch thing he always does, shifting his weight like he’s trying to work out a phantom cramp.
Darren lost both legs above the knee years ago in a work accident. He didn’t let it hold him back though, even after he found out he couldn’t bear the prosthetics because of exposed veins, he still stayed optimistic.
“Manuel didn’t even try to hide it,” I say. “Soon as I told Dad what happened, he started dropping hints about ‘protecting my assets’ and ‘preparing for worst-case scenarios.’”
Darren rolls his eyes. “Like he knows anything about what a real marriage looks like.”
“I knew what he was saying was bullshit,” I mutter. “But then he mentioned the kids.”
Darren’s expression shifts. “What about the kids?”
“He said fathers usually end up seeing their kids on weekends,” I admit. “Especially when the wife’s been a stay-at-home mom.”
“And you listened?”
“I didn’t listen,” I argue. “I just… heard him.”
Darren lets out a slow breath. “Logan, that man is using you.”
I look away.
“He’s projecting what happened with dad and mom onto you and Jess,” Darren continues. “He has no idea what he’s talking about.”
I rub a hand over my face. “Yeah, well… it got in my head.”
“That’s the point,” Darren says quietly. “He wanted it to.”
Sighing, he adds, “Don’t let him turn your marriage into his do-over crap.”
I stare at the floor.
“Are you saying I should forgive her?” I mutter.
Darren runs a hand through his hair. “Man, I can’t answer that for you.”
He shifts in his chair, letting out a breath.
“All I’m saying is don’t react right now. Sit with it. Feel what you need to feel before you decide anything.”
I don’t say anything.
“If you get to a place where you think you can forgive her,” he continues carefully, “then… I don’t know. Maybe this is something you two can come back from.”
“And if I decide otherwise?” I ask quietly.
He shrugs. “Then at least you won’t have regrets.”
I nod. He’s right.
Whatever happens next, I don’t want to look back and wonder if I acted too fast. I don’t want to make a decision fueled by anger and spend the rest of my life questioning it.
I don’t want regrets.
No more than I already have.