When he presses his lips together and remains silent, I’m struck with a heartbreaking realization. It’s as painful as a two-by-four slamming into the back of my head.
“You have no intention of ending this affair, do you?” The words might be arranged in the form of a question, but it’s not.
We both know the answer without him having to verbalize it.
“It’s complicated,” he repeats weakly, as if that makes it better.
“No,” I snap, losing my patience, “it’s not. You have a wife. A woman you’ve been married to for over twenty-five years. Explain what’s complicated about it?”
The acidic taste of bile rises in my throat.
His reluctance to end this relationship makes me realize that it’s not a casual affair. Even though I had purposefully dropped the issue a few minutes ago, I now feel the need to press for an answer. “How long has this been going on?”
“A while.”
“A year?” I spit.
He stares mutely.
My voice escalates. “A few years?”
His stubborn silence sends a wave of nausea and anger crashing through me.
“This is your chance to do the right thing,” I grit out. My hands tighten into useless fists that hang at my sides. Disappointment and exasperation churn in my gut. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this disgusted with anyone in my life. Let alone, one of my parents.
How is this issue not cut and dry?
Not once has he shown an ounce of remorse or offered to end his affair. And that’s frightening. This woman—whoever she is—means something to him.
Possibly more than we do.
Unable to stomach the sight of my father, I swing around and force myself up the staircase. Putting one foot in front of the other feels like a Herculean effort. When I’m halfway up, I pause and glance down at him. He hasn’t budged from the foyer. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”
Spitting out those words feels like the equivalent to dropping a bomb.
It’s appalling that I have to threaten him.
He jerks his head into a tight nod but offers nothing more.
As I stare at my dad, I realize he’s not the man I once thought he was.
How could he be?
The father I’ve revered since childhood would never hurt the people he loves the way this one has.
This man, he’s a stranger.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mia
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me what was going on!” Alyssa shoves me in the shoulder and the force sends me careening into a random guy on the walking path.
My hands grasp his chest for purchase as he holds my upper arms to steady me. Heat fills my cheeks. “I am so sorry!”
The guy grins, making no attempt to release me. “It’s not a problem.”
Alyssa grabs my arm and yanks me free. “Sorry bud, but she’s taken.”
He shrugs. “That’s too bad.”
Alyssa snorts before dragging me down the path.
“I’m going to kill you,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
“No, you’re not.” She doesn’t sound the least bit concerned by the threat. “You love me too much to do that.”
“Hmmm,” I scrunch my face and contemplate the statement, “do I?”
“Yup.” She links her arm through mine as we continue walking. “Anyway, back to the original convo we were having before you rather clumsily threw yourself at that guy.”
When I glare, she grins and keeps yapping. “I can’t believe you kept this from me!”
“It wasn’t like that,” I try to explain. “It just happened.”
“Please, girl. The Mia and Beck saga has been years in the making. It didn’t just,” she makes air quotes with her fingers, “happen. This courtship has been moving at glacial speeds.”
She might be right. All I know is that I don’t want to discuss the Beck situation until it picks up traction.
Giving Alyssa a little taste of her own medicine, I shoot back with, “It’s not like you’ve been entirely forthcoming about Colton.”
It’s almost comical the way her face goes blank. “That’s because there’s nothing to tell.”
I narrow my eyes and search hers for the truth. “Are you sure about that?”
“Positive.” It’s airily that she announces, “Colton Montgomery is part of my past, not my future.”
I have my suspicions as far as Alyssa’s ex is concerned, but that’s all they are at this point. Suspicions. As I open my mouth to delve deeper, my phone rings.
The music from my ringtone has my belly doing a painful flip. Every time my cell makes the slightest noise, dread nearly swallows me whole and I hold my breath until I’m on the verge of passing out.
I dig through my bag in search of my phone. After a few moments of rooting around, my fingers lock around the slim cell. Nerves prickle along my flesh as I glance at the screen.
Mom.
Alyssa jostles me in the shoulder. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“Yeah.” I force out the air that has become trapped in my lungs before sliding my thumb across the green button. “Hey, Mom.”