stares straight ahead, his jaw tight, eyes contemplative.
“I’d been feeling somewhat…frustrated with the way everything happened with Sawyer, with our marriage. A part of me hoped that, with time, I’d feel that connection, that spark you see in movies. That things were tough because we’d spent the majority of our marriage up to that point living in two different states. Then a part of me wondered if it was because I was so…inexperienced.”
He arches a brow. “Inexperienced?”
“Sawyer was my first. So I thought maybe he didn’t want to sleep with me because I wasn’t any good at it.
“I can’t quite pinpoint when my conversations with Jay shifted from the development of art and architecture in the Byzantine Empire to conversations about sex. It seems stupid now, but I didn’t have girlfriends I could talk to. And I didn’t exactly trust Cosmo to give me tips on how to make my childhood friend actually want me sexually. So I told Jay all about my feelings of inadequacy in my marriage. And the bedroom. But he…”
Tears dot the corners of my eyes. I feel so stupid that I hadn’t seen it before. But I was young and naïve. I truly believed he was doing what any friend would. I didn’t realize this was just part of his personality as a master manipulator.
“Yes?” Wes asks with a quiver.
When his hand clutches mine, I grit a smile. No wonder I haven’t wanted to share the details of this before now, even with Hazel, who knows more about me than anyone else. Finally sharing the gritty, dark details is excruciating, a vice squeezing my heart, even all these years later.
“He made me feel beautiful. Made me feel like I was enough. Like any man who didn’t appreciate me wasn’t worth my time.”
Wes blinks, his expression even as he processes everything. Then he floats his gaze to mine, his features taut. “Did you have an affair with him?”
I pinch my lips together, eyes brimming with tears. My throat tightens, my vision going blurry. “It depends who you ask.”
“I don’t follow.” He furrows his brow. “You either had an affair or you didn’t. I don’t see any gray area in this.”
“There is if you don’t consent.”
Chapter Twenty
Weston
I stare straight ahead, but barely see the squirrels chasing each other. Or the grass blowing in the breeze. Or the rollerbladers skating by. All I see is red, my heart pounding a thunderous rhythm. My jaw tenses and nostrils flare, every muscle becoming rigid as rage consumes me. It takes everything I possess not to demand the location of this Jay guy right now. All I can do is pray he’s already in prison, although something tells me Londyn isn’t that lucky.
“What happened?” I ask through pinched lips, my voice coming out harsher than I’d intended.
She fidgets with her hands, her chin dipped close to her chest as she averts her gaze.
“Hey.” I touch her cheek, bringing her eyes toward mine. “It’s okay. Whatever you’re comfortable sharing.”
She blinks repeatedly, swallowing hard. “I know. And I appreciate it.”
“We can stop. We don’t—”
“No.” She straightens her posture, vehemently shaking her head. “I need to get this out. Even if you never look at me the same way again, at least you’ll finally know the truth.”
“I would never look at you any differently, Lo.” I swipe my thumb under her eyes, erasing her tears. “You’ve got to realize that by now.”
“I wouldn’t make any promises yet, Wes.”
I peer at her, my hackles rising. Then I pull away, giving her space. “Okay.”
Tilting her head back, she stares at the darkening sky for a beat before looking forward again. “Every year, the College of Arts and Humanities threw an end-of-year masquerade ball at the dean’s house for the graduating seniors, their dates, and the faculty. It was this breathtaking Victorian a few blocks from campus. Old wood, and dust, and heavy tapestries.”
“Sounds stunning.”
“It was. While I hate to admit it, I took quite a bit of care in choosing a mask and dress because I knew Jay would be there.”
“Did you ever see each other on campus?”
“No.” She pauses. “Well, I guess that’s not entirely true. I did occasionally. And the more we discussed…intimate things, the more I began seeing him. He’d walk by my lecture on 20th Century Photographic History. Then I’d notice him lurking in the library near where I was studying with a few of my classmates. Then again when I was in the art studio, working on a project. I liked