and into Belmont, and as if it was scripted perfectly, the moment I pull into my driveway, my phone buzzes.
Alec sends another photo he pulled from the Internet.
Alec: Fucking beautiful.
His words have a way of erasing reality, and I smile. It’s unreal how fast my mood shifts, how powerful he is to do that. I park the car and text him back.
Me: You should hate me.
Alec: I should.
I then turn off my phone before walking in to the house because I can’t guarantee my reaction if he were to text while I’m with Landon. When I walk in, I spot Landon sitting on the couch with my laptop open.
“Hey, babe,” I say as casually as possible, as if it is simply any other day, but he doesn’t respond. “Did you already put the girls down?”
“Yes.”
“You okay?” I question as he closes the lid to the computer.
He then stands and walks into our bedroom, my stomach flipping with each step he takes.
What if he suspects something?
Paranoia claims me as her bitch as I follow to find him pacing across the room, so I do what I can to act normal, to act as if I haven’t been crying over another man, to act as if I’m not the asshole I’m proving myself to be. I walk over to him and run my hands along his chest to insinuate I’m in the mood for sex, but he grabs my wrists and pushes me away.
My conscience taunts me, and I grow even more worried.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
His eyes are dead, stopping all my blood flow, and I panic.
“Landon?”
“I know everything.” His voice is ice cold as he looks at me like I’m a disgusting piece of shit, and I don’t even bother trying to lie my way out of this.
“Please,” I say as calmly as I possibly can. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t know what I’m fucking thinking!” he shouts as he swings his arm across the dresser, sending picture frames that hold images of our love and devotion to the floor, shattering the glass against the hard wood.
“I’ll tell you everything, Landon. I love you so much—”
“I read your texts to him,” he seethes. “I needed to use your laptop, and there they were on your iMessages. I guess you forgot that those come through on your computer.”
Oh, my God.
“I read them all, even the ones he just sent.”
“No. Please, I just . . . It isn’t what you’re thinking.” Words tumble out through the stampede of hysteria.
“Shut the fuck up before I really lose my shit on you,” he yells with clenched fists. I’ve never seen this side of Landon in my life and it’s terrifying. “I then wondered if you told Brooke, and when I checked your texts to her, I find out the lying whore you are.”
“I can explain—”
“What? That you weren’t having phone sex with that motherfucker? Fuck you!” He then rips the comforter off the bed. “Your cum is all over the goddamn sheets. You weren’t thinking about me, were you, Tor?”
His voice is pure acid dripping into my splintering heart as I stand here completely helpless.
“Don’t even try to lie because I saw that you had a two-hour video chat with him right before I came home this afternoon. So what was that, you felt guilty so you fucked me? On top of the cum from—”
“Please,” I sob. “It wasn’t real. I never even met the guy.”
“No?” He grabs my shoulders and pushes me back against the wall. His eyes slay me with the fury in them. “I want to know everything.”
“Okay,” I tremble out.
“Did he watch you?”
“Yes.”
His jaw ticks. “Did he talk dirty to you?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“A little.”
“Did you watch him?”
“Yes.”
He squeezes my shoulders tighter, painfully bruising me as tears fall freely down my face. With clenched teeth, he goes on, asking, “Did you cum?”
“Yes,” I confess, each one breaking his heart along with my own.
“Did he see your naked body?”
“Only my breasts.”
His eyes pinch shut, and when they open again, his words drip utter heart-fracturing agony when he asks, “Did he see your face when you came?”
“Landon, don’t—”
“Tell me!” he grits through his teeth, shaking my shoulders in his death grip.
My eyes fall shut, pushing out more tears, and I can’t bear to look at him when I tell him the truth. “Yes.”
“That was mine!” He slams my body against the wall before letting go of me as if I’m poisonous. Maybe I am. “I fucking hate you!”