“He cheated on me, Wren. I didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t completely agree with that.” He puts a hand up in attempts to silence me. “But I agree his offense outweighs yours. Liv, it was a mistake and he’s been begging you for your forgiveness!”
“And? He fucked some woman. A woman he’s STILL fucking!”
“He doesn’t want her, Olivia! It’s…complicated,” he snaps as he puts his hands on his hips. His dark blue scrubs are harsh against his pale skin, but bring out the color of his eyes, especially now as they’re so dark and angry, they’re almost navy.
“Bullshit, don’t hand me that. He’s still sleeping with her, Wren. He’s still with her.”
He sits back down next to me. “He only wants you.”
“Wren, you need to let this go. Bennett and I are over,” I whisper as I put my hand on top of his, as if he’s the one in need of comfort. I look down at our hands again and note the contrast I’m very familiar with. My honey brown skin against his pale. Although my soon to be ex-husband was much tanner, with an olive complexion, just the visual causes a flutter of nostalgia.
It’s 2019, so being in an interracial relationship isn’t something that causes much, if any negative attention, except when my husband was hit on and women just assumed I wasn’t his wife.
Or when I was forced to interact with my mother-in-law. But no, of course she’s not racist, because “Jennifer Porter has been my best friend since college.”
It didn’t bother me, and Bennett kept her far away from me much of the time, not to mention his devotion to me was unwavering. He loved me deeply, irrevocably almost painfully. The “threats” to our marriage, if you could even call them that, were shot down without another glance. It was obvious he only had eyes for me and wore his ring proudly.
He was that way from the beginning. He pursued me for months and convinced me to date him. Showing up at my job, sending me flowers, and finding me almost anywhere as if he had a tracker on me. I would have been a little creeped out if it weren’t for the fact that his best friend was dating mine.
Even still, it was a little creepy.
It took all of two dates for me to fall, deeply. And though I tried to play hard to get, I was his from the moment he pressed his lips to mine on that bridge in Central Park. And the way he proceeded to court me the next few months, showed he was mine too.
We were engaged within a year and married the following. We were that level of happy that people hated. Outwardly our marriage was perfect and on the inside, it was just as beautiful. We had passion and love and trust and I was completely devoted to Bennett Clarke.
Life was perfect.
Until everything came crashing down.
Nine Years Ago
“I thought that was you.” I look up just in time to see Bennett something take the seat across from me at my very small table at the coffee shop just off campus. My textbooks litter the space in front of me as I’m studying for finals and my laptop is perched precariously in my lap. I pull my headphones from my ears, wondering in what world my appearance gives the impression that I have time for chit-chat even if the man is unbelievably gorgeous.
Piercing green eyes with flecks of honey trace my face. Eyes full of promises—though I’m not sure what they are yet. Effortlessly dressed in a full navy suit that looks like it cost more than three months of my rent, this man oozes sex and style and a masculinity that makes my heart race. He’s not wearing a tie and his top button is undone revealing just a hint of chest hair that I never realized is such a turn-on until this very moment.
“Umm…Bennett right?” I narrow my gaze slightly, trying to recall the last name of my best friend’s new boyfriend’s friend.
My best friend, Alyssa March, is a biology major and somehow had gotten mixed up with this very young, very cute Doctor, Wren Hamilton, at this hospital that she volunteered at to collect the hours she needed for med school. It was all so very Grey’s Anatomy.
I’d met Bennett in passing one night when Alyssa and I had gone out after class, and said dreamy and very possessive Doctor paid us a visit to make sure we were “behaving.” I rolled my eyes at the sentiment and asked her what it was like having another parent disguised as a boyfriend and she giggled back that she loved it and made some Daddy joke.
Bennett, who’d followed in tow, introduced himself and proceeded to stare at me for the remainder of the time, his eyes burning into me over his whiskey like he was a lion and I was his prey and he was plotting his next move. I knew I looked good that night, in my favorite black dress that hugged my curves as my sleek straight hair cascaded down my back, but the way he went back and forth between undressing me with his eyes and sabotaging any conversation with a guy who tried to talk to me, I’d briefly wondered if he liked more than the way I looked.
“You wound me, Olivia Warren.” He smiles and I don’t miss the fact that his smile is quite literally perfect. Straight white teeth and a dimple on only one side underneath one layer of stubble. He nods at my computer and the array of books surrounding me. “What are you studying?” He takes a sip from the paper cup and I try to ignore the way his throat moves or the way his Adam’s apple wobbles as he swallows.
Don’t look at his mouth, Liv.
I tuck a long curled hair behind my ear, a telltale sign that I’m nervous, and try to avoid his gaze. “You can just call me Liv. That’s what everyone calls me.”
“Well, what if I don’t want to just be like everyone. Then what should I call you?” He smiles again with a hint of cockiness, but more playfulness, and I’m grateful I’m sitting down, or else my knees would probably buckle.
“Ummm…” I look away from his green eyes. Green gorgeous eyes that look emerald. I’d never seen eyes that color and mixed with his tanned complexion, he looked like the “Greek God” women went on about in romance novels.
I was going to bomb this exam if I didn’t get my shit together.
“Statistical Analysis,” I say finally.