That made sense. Sex always made me happy. Especially sex with Austin.
I arranged two outfits on the bed and stepped back to take a picture, sending it off to the girls for their opinion.
Nova: Part of me wants to say the red dress because daaaaaaamn!
Nova: But go for the skirt and top.
Vera: Agreed.
Vera: The red says, we’re not really having dinner. We’re having a drink, then going back to my place.
Nova: The calf-length skirt and off-the-shoulder shirt with some fuck me heels says, I’m going to torture you through this entire meal.
Vera: I always love a good torture. Drives Nico insane. devil smile emoji
Me: Savages!!
Me: I love it.
Vera: So, is this a date?
Me: Kind of…but not really. I mean, we’ve gone to dinner together so many times.
Nova: It’s totally a date.
Vera: Definitely.
Their surety that this was, in fact, a date and not another simple meal had my hackles rising, and I rushed to dissuade them. As if making them believe it would help ease the tension and nerves like I was some teen waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up for prom.
Me: It’s nothing special.
Not that they were letting me get away with it.
Bitches.
Nova: Except that it’s a date.
Vera: With your husband.
Nova: Because you’re his wife.
And there it was, laid out in black and white, impossible to ignore.
“Except this time, you’re my wife.” Remembering his parting words added a shiver down my spine to my core. I squeezed my legs around the pulse and sucked in a breath around my racing heart when I closed my eyes and remembered the blaze in his eyes when he said it.
No. I cut myself off. Focus on the sex. That’s what had me so excited. That’s what had me aching.
Me: Eye roll emoji.
Me: What? Do you guys have another bet going on and need me to admit to something?
Vera: Nope.
Nova: At least not a bet on a date.
Me: Bitches.
Vera: kiss emoji
Nova: kiss emoji
Vera: So, what does this mean? What comes next? After the date?
Me: Sex
Nova: And then …
And then what? More sex.
At least, I hoped. I didn’t know. We didn’t have any more reasons to keep this ruse of our marriage going. We fulfilled our weekends with family, and now we were back at square one. There was no more forced proximity to keep us together—no excuse to keep sleeping together. I could get my divorce, and we could go back to being friends. Easy-peasy.
Except, the sharp pang in my chest didn’t feel easy-peasy. It twisted and pulled, making it hard to take a deep breath.
Me: I don’t know.
Vera: Have you maybe considered possibly giving it a try?
Giving it a try…
I closed my eyes and imagined it. I imagined him in my home—our home. I imagined him in my bed. I imagined going to events and introducing him as my husband.
My phone pinged with a different sound than the one I set for the girls’ texts.
Bodie.
Doing what I should have done from day one, I blocked his number and deleted the message without reading it before going back to the group chat. My chest squeezed tighter while my fingers hovered over the buttons, unsure of what to say.
With a sigh, I muted the conversation and set the phone aside. I’d get hell for it later, but I just…couldn’t.
I didn’t want to go back and forth about it. I didn’t want them to tell me I was wrong or making a mistake because this feeling clawing away at my chest was too much to ignore. They’d try to convince me it was love, but I knew myself—I knew I couldn’t stay married to Austin.
I would ruin it, and it would ruin us. Hell, all I had to do was look at what I let Bodie do. If I stayed married to Austin, who knew what I’d let him do? Who knew who I’d become? There was too high of a chance that I’d become something I hated, and I’d end up resenting him for it.
No. I couldn’t risk it.
If Austin and I had any chance of making it, we had to be friends and nothing else.
As much as I hadn’t had enough of him—of basking in his pleasure—I knew it was better to break it off now rather than drag it out into something ugly.
I pressed my palm to my chest over the tightening pain, like a dull knife twisting and pulling at my skin. Neither solution of staying or going felt good. Both left me with my heart sinking to my stomach.
Shoving it all aside, I grabbed my phone and sent a message to my lawyer, asking him to draft the papers as soon as possible—tonight. I needed to make the decision before tonight. I needed to make the decision before anyone else tried to talk me out of it. I knew what was best.