Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,79
saw anger, frustration. I saw everything in his expressive eyes and wondered why I’d never seen the deceit when it had been happening. I’d been blind to his faults, imagining a love between us based on what I wanted, not what he could actually give me. Is that what I’m doing with Justin? Am I imagining something that wasn’t there?
“I wanted us to try again,” Marc wheedled. “Come on, we were good together.”
“I was a walking bank, that’s all. You should go now.”
“You told me you wanted huge declarations of love? Isn’t this what I’m giving you now?”
God that is not the kind of lie I wanted Justin to hear. “I never wanted a huge declaration of love. I just wanted to be loved, and you know, in the end, I just wanted you to be faithful.”
Marc curled his lip and huffed. “You were always busy, what did you want me to do?”
I was lost for words, but it was okay, Justin appeared to have my back.
“You could have gone to him and helped him so he could be less busy.” He faced Marc who was taller, bigger, and madder than a wet hen.
“Excuse me?” Marc spat. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Brody’s boyfriend.”
“Brody’s what?” Marc sputtered. “What in hell’s name do you see in someone like Brody?” He stopped as he realized the hole he’d just dug. He never saw me as anything other than useful for sex at college and then an open wallet after.
Justin’s mouth fell open in shock, and Marc’s expression went from defensive to smug in an instant. I bet he expected me to deny what Justin had just announced or maybe that Justin would take back the words. But I had fire in my heart and so much happiness that I couldn’t think.
“He’s passionate, kind, and he makes me happy just by being around him,” Justin began, and then he leaned into Marc and lowered his voice. “Also, he’s on fire in bed.”
Marc’s lips thinned. “As if.”
Justin bristled, but I moved between the two men because I didn’t want a heated debate about whether or not I was good in bed, even if Justin’s words made me want to smile so damn hard.
“I’m happier than I have ever been, and you need to leave.”
Marc spluttered. “But I came all this way and—and—you owe me.” I looked at him for the first time with my eyes wide open. He was a shell of a man, empty. He wasn’t anything like Justin. He was hard where Justin was soft, he was cruel when Justin was sunshine. I didn’t want Marc. I wanted Justin, and that last fear about the steps I’d taken to get him out of my life vanished in an instant. I was done.
“I owe you? What exactly do you think I owe you?” I remained calm because it was the only way I could stop myself from taking the nearest dessert and shoving it in his face.
“The settlement didn’t give me enough money for what I did for you! I supported you after college,” he said triumphantly. “I paid the rent on our place—”
“Actually, my dad paid my half of the rent for the first three months until the money began to come in.”
“Well, I bought you equipment.”
“Three cake tins and a whisk.”
He tipped his chin, and his expression was one of a wary man suddenly aware he had nothing in this discussion.
“I was faithful to you until you gave up on us.” That had been his one argument—that somehow I’d turned away from him and caused him to stray. For the longest time, I’d even believed his words until I started to put two and two together.
He’d never been faithful to me, not even before we were married.
“Interesting that you say that because I reconnected with Tim Dowling. You recall him, right?”
Marc paled. “Tim.”
“Turns out he had a lot of stories about what you and he did in college behind my back, so you and I both know you weren’t faithful even before we were married.”
“Whatever.” He waved away the fact as if it meant nothing. “You still owe me,” he said with belligerence as if he hadn’t just presented me with his argument and had it blown out of the water.
Justin moved behind me, lifted his phone, and began to record. “You don’t mind if I share this chat on social media, right?”
Marc attempted to reach for the phone, but Justin was quicker and held it out of his