Lover (Betrothed 3)
Page 44
When he’d walked off, I’d almost chased after him and broke his jaw. But I reminded myself he wasn’t worth my time, so I just let him go. Was there any merit to what he said? Had he been right? Was I the one to blame for what happened to my wife?
I couldn’t carry that guilt.
I already carried all of her pain and sadness. And with every nightmare she had, I felt that agony more and more. Once we confirmed that the baby was mine, she seemed to relax a bit, but the fact that she wouldn’t sleep with me told me that she wasn’t okay.
Maybe she would never be okay.
“You look miserable.” The brunette I’d seen earlier slid into the booth beside me. She had a cosmo with her, and her deep blue dress was short and very revealing for January. She gave me a gentle nudge in the arm. “You’re too hot to be miserable.”
We’d slept together sometime in the past, but I couldn’t quite remember when. It was some time after Sofia dumped me, and I was in so much pain. I fucked everyone to forget her, but there weren’t enough beautiful women in the world to accomplish that. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, just brood in silence, so I said nothing.
“Did you and Damien get into a fight?” She continued to sit beside me, far too close considering all the vacant seats around us.
“No. We just aren’t friends anymore.”
Her eyes filled with sadness. “That’s too bad. You guys are cute together.”
“Don’t say shit like that.”
She brushed off my insult. She looked at her glass for a while and tapped her long nails against the surface. “You want to get out of here?”
My hand grabbed my glass, so maybe she didn’t see my wedding ring. I placed my palm on the surface so it was unmistakable. “I’m married.”
She didn’t look at my hand. “I know.”
I pulled my hand away, slightly offended that my status didn’t matter to her. Cheating never used to bother me. I’d bedded married women before, guilt-free. My sense of morality was nonexistent. But all of that changed when I met Sofia. “I’m not that kind of guy.”
“Really? Then why are you sitting alone in a bar? Happily married men don’t go to bars. The ones who do are always unhappy, and they are always looking for something to make themselves feel better. You fit that description perfectly.”
Yes, I was miserable. I’d lost my best friend, and my wife was still disturbed by what had happened to her. I didn’t know how to kill my enemy, and I hadn’t had sex in so long, I was starting to lose my mind. Without it, I felt lost. All the frustrations that bubbled under the skin couldn’t escape. My wife’s rejection wounded me, and I pretended it wasn’t a big deal so I wouldn’t look like an ass, but I was really disappointed. One of the things I loved most in my relationship with Sofia was gone.
She moved her hand to my thigh. “Come home with me.”
I could feel her fingers dig into my thigh, feel her hand migrate to where my dick was located. If I found release tonight, no one would ever know. It didn’t mean anything to me, just a way to cure the loneliness. The fact that I let this moment happen at all told me how lost I was. This wasn’t me. And if it was, I didn’t want it to be. I grabbed her wrist and pushed it away. “I am gonna go home, but to my wife.”
I never told Sofia what happened at the bar. A part of me felt like a liar and a cheater. I shouldn’t have let that moment go as far as it did. But I also knew, at the end of the day, I said no. I didn’t give in to the temptation and went home where I belonged.
I said no. That was what mattered.
So, I said nothing. It would make her feel insecure. It would make her feel guilty for not sleeping with me, and I didn’t want to rush her into something she wasn’t ready for. I wanted her to be with me because she wanted it, not because she was scared to lose me.
I walked into her office and saw her sitting at her desk. Her silky hair was pulled back, revealing her beautiful face and full lips. Her green eyes were down and reading reports. She was in a sweater dress and knee-high boots.
I stared at her for a second, feeling the guilt eat me alive. My wife was so beautiful. How could I think, even for a second, about someone else? She was pregnant with my son, and I loved her so much. I knew I’d only felt that way because it had been a rough couple of months. But I still felt so shitty.