3. Andrea
One minute I was reading a report on my phone about my ex having his mistress over at our house and arguing with Ollie about leaving the concert to deal with the situation, and the next I was getting escorted on stage to kiss the world’s most eligible bachelor.
If only Deacon’s kiss hadn’t been so incredible. How unfair to measure every future date to a sexy rock star who kissed like, well, a sexy rock star.
But while I’d been stunned, he’d merely been going through the motions. Hell, he probably brought a girl up every concert to run the same schtick. That’s why I hadn’t bothered to stay for the aftershow. It was time to get back to reality.
It had been a fun escape, I thought, making my way to the waiting Uber. Ollie had beseeched me not to go to the house yet in case Jeff and Paula were still there, but it was in fact my home. My bed. God, the thought made me sick. What if Jeff had slept with Paula in my bed?
Just when I thought I could be strong and move on, the past threatened to pull me under with some new revelation exposing a new way to spiral into depths of anger.
As I pulled up to my house, I noticed it was dark, and when I came in the front door, the only sound was the alarm beeping at my arrival. Good. Maybe they weren’t here.
After walking into the kitchen, I set down my purse with a breath of annoyance. We’d finished decorating the house last month, and now we’d have to sell it. Running my hand over the marble countertop I’d spent weeks picking out, I let the tears fall.
It wasn’t fair. Yes, relationships ended. Yes, people were entitled to find their happiness, but my husband had chosen to pursue his while still with me. While I’d been sitting in the doctor’s office making an appointment to start our IVF journey next week, he’d lived a double life. The thought made me sick to my stomach, but I wiped my tears and forced myself to avoid the familiar round of useless thoughts. How could I have been so stupid? So blind?
No. This was his fault. And beating myself up for not suspecting my husband of lying and cheating was victim blaming.
After a long shower, I put on my pajamas and curled up in a freshly changed bed. I automatically reached for my phone, frowning at the forty-six notifications and eighteen missed calls, some from Ollie, some from my parents, and the majority from unknown numbers.
The sight triggered me back to the night the news had broken about my husband cheating. A video catching him and Paula in the alley behind a bar making out, and my life had fallen apart.
Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I scrolled to the text from Ollie, which included an attached video clip. I clicked on it and gasped.
The video showed me up on the stage tonight kissing Deacon Miller. Watching the playback was surreal. It was difficult to process the woman up on stage had been me. Then he delivered the line about being kissed by a real rock star, and the crowd went wild.
For the first time in the last few days, a genuine smile crossed my lips.
I dialed Ollie’s number and was relieved when he picked up on the first ring.
“You’re the talk of the town, darling.” His words were difficult to hear against the background noise.
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“Are you kidding? You told me you were tired of feeling pathetic. Consider this as the icing on the karma cake you’re now eating. By the way, there was a very disappointed Deacon when you didn’t come backstage with me tonight.”
“Yeah, right.” I doubted he realized I was missing from his party. “Is that where you are now?”
“Yeah. And your on-stage kiss is all the buzz.”
Was I blushing? Maybe I did deserved this boost even if it was fake. “It was definitely my highlight of the month.”
“The press is eating it up.”
Something in the media about me aside from the cheating scandal was a nice change of pace. Then I heard the sound of the Ring camera security chirp, indicating someone was at the front door. I stiffened. “Shit. Jeff is here.”
Ollie sighed. “Is it too much for him to leave you alone? He puts you through hell and comes and goes with complete disregard to your feelings?”
I’d looked into changing the locks, but I couldn’t legally keep him from the property since we were co-owners. But he hadn’t stayed here in days, so why now? “Hopefully he’ll grab whatever he forgot and leave me alone.”
I’d taken up residence in the master bedroom and moved all of his things into the guest room. There was no reason for him to come in here even if he insisted on entering a house where he was definitely not welcome.
But it wasn’t to be. He stormed into the master bedroom as if he had every right, holding his phone to flash a picture of me kissing Deacon Miller. “What the fuck is this, Andrea?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him it was a fucking phone, but I managed a shrug instead.
“You really think I’d believe you and Deacon Miller have something going on? You’re not in his league, and this won’t work to make me jealous. Just a pathetic PR stunt.”
He thundered out the same way he’d come, leaving me shaking.
“A narcissist can’t stand to be upstaged, and he definitely is jealous. As if I couldn’t hate him any more than I already do,” Ollie muttered over the phone. “Arsehole.”
“Who’s the asshole?” came a masculine voice I recognized immediately even over the background noise of the party.
“I’ll let you go, Ollie. Enjoy the party.” I hung up the phone quickly not wanting either man to hear me cry at the callous way my soon-to-be ex-husband had spoken to me.
My phone immediately buzzed back with Ollie’s number. Answering it, emotion clogged my throat. “I’m not in the best mood to talk.”
“What will get you in the mood?” came the sinful voice of Deacon Miller.
“A lot more than you can give me over the phone.”
I wasn’t sure who was more surprised by my words, me or him, for silence hung between us. Then he let out a chuckle. “One more reason why you should be here instead of hanging around assholes.”
I noticed the background noise had gone quiet. “Wouldn’t be the first time I made the wrong choice.”
“Could be the last.”
A smile curved my lips. Flirting with Deacon was officially my new favorite thing. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“If you would’ve stayed, you would’ve found out I don’t.”
Damn if he wasn’t good for my fractured ego. “I wouldn’t have been good company. I’ll let you go so you can have some fun at your wrap party. Thanks for tonight.”
“Any time, Andi. Good night.”
He’d called me Andi. Something I’d never let anyone call me more than once. It didn’t matter considering this was surely the last time I’d ever speak to him.
As for tomorrow, it was time to stop dwelling on the past and take steps to put it behind me. I’d start by meeting with a divorce attorney.