Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Did he buy a new car? It looks exactly like Sergei’s, which I’ve seen parked in the Coyotes player lot at the college.
Once parked, I walk inside, unable to keep the smile from my face. I’m afraid to jinx things by talking about it, but I’m starting to think Colby and I have something real. He’s made me work on being the best version of myself. I’m giving myself and others more grace than I used to, and not letting my temper run away unchecked.
The Thai carryout he picked up smells heavenly. I shrug my coat off and hang it up, seeing a freshly opened bottle of my favorite red wine with a half-filled glass sitting next to it.
“Hey,” Colby says, walking into the kitchen wearing nothing but athletic shorts.
“Hi.” My smile widens as I approach him for a kiss.
He picks up the glass and passes it to me.
“Ah, you should have,” I quip, taking it.
I use the opposite of you shouldn’t have to thank him when he does something thoughtful, which is daily. It’s kind of our thing and I like that we have little inside jokes like that.
“A little something for you,” I say, setting a small box of his favorite cookies on the counter.
“Thanks.”
He opens the box and takes a long smell of the white chocolate macadamia cookies inside, then closes it.
“How’s Lena?” he asks as he opens the bag of carryout food.
“She’s good.”
I take plates out of the cabinet, reminding myself that I really need to order a good set of dishes. Colby’s plates and bowls are all mismatched, some of them chipped.
“Hey, what’s with the G-Wagon in the garage?” I ask.
“It’s Sergei’s. I borrowed it.”
“Oh.”
That’s strange. I’m about to ask him why he borrowed it when he asks, “So who’s fault is it?”
“Whose fault is what?” I say absently as he unloads the contents of the dinner order. “Did they really need to give us twenty soy sauce packets?”
Colby bypasses the plate, popping off the lid of his beef curry and sticking a fork in it.
“You said Lena and her husband are having problems. So whose fault is it?”
I shrug. “It’s his fault. He cheated on her. His affair started when she was recovering from back surgery last year and she feels guilty that she was bedridden for two months.”
Lena gets my blood pressure up like no one else. I love her, but she puts up with too much shit from her husband. He has her convinced she’ll die alone if she leaves him.
“Is she having a good time in France?”
I was reaching for the lid of my fried rice when I freeze. Panic sets in immediately. How does he know Lena is in France?
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I say, busying myself with my food to avoid looking at him.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
I look at him, his expression calm and his gaze locked onto mine.
“I know you didn’t meet Lena for drinks.”
My heart races so hard I get lightheaded. I steady myself with a hand on the counter, trying to think on my feet. How can I talk my way out of this?
I won’t lie to him. But I can’t tell him the truth, either.
“I promise I wasn’t do anything you’d disapprove of,” I say. “I can’t say anything else about it.”
He sets his container of food down, walking over to the other side of the island. When he leans his hands on the counter and glares at me, my heart sinks.
“If it was nothing that I’d disapprove of, then you wouldn’t have lied to me,” he says.
“I know it seems that way, but it was a little white lie.”
He scoffs. “A little white lie about going to see another man. You’re busted, Mila. Just be fucking honest about it.”
I narrow my eyes, realizing why Sergei’s car is in our garage.
“You followed me.”
The knowledge brings tears to my eyes. They aren’t tears of sadness, but flat-out terror. I’ve been so careful all this time. It’s not a coincidence that as soon as I let my guard down with Colby, the worst-case scenario I’ve had nightmares about has come to pass.
No one can know about him. I’d die to protect him.
“How could you follow me?” I can barely get the words out. I’m on the verge of vomiting. “That’s such a violation of my privacy.”
He laughs bitterly. “Oh, you feel violated because I know where your boyfriend lives? Fuck you. We have unprotected sex every day. How do I know what this guy has or who he’s been with?”
I put up a palm. “I’m not sleeping with anyone else. I give you my word.”
“Your word?” He sneers. “You think your word means anything to me?”
His coldness cuts me deep. I wish I could tell him the truth, but I’m terrified he already knows too much.