Page 111 of Forever Fighting
“You’ll all deserve what you get. I have no regrets,” Anne states.
“Except I have evidence of everything you’ve done, including stalking with malicious intent. I have the garage video of you following me out and pushing yourself onto me before you got on your knees, and I was shaking my head and saying no. I have receipts you charged to the network for your Vegas trip, followed by your Mexico trip, the latter of which wasn’t solicited by us. I have records of the payments you received fromIntertainmentand the emails you were stupid enough to send from your work computer telling your PI to, and I quote, ruthlessly follow Braelyn and Roman and to find anything he could that would hurt you.”
I’m not breathing. Or I’m hyperventilating. Or both. All I know is I’m a half-beat from passing out. Holy shit. I can’t believe this. My trembling hand covers my lips as I absorb what’s happening before my eyes.
“Sorry to end your revenge scheme,” Adam continues. “If you leave Braelyn alone, I won’t press charges, though you’re obviously fired. If you go near her again, I’ll ruin you to within an inch of your life and make sure you go to jail. Don’t test me on this. I have a longer list of your crimes than I stated.”
Anne looks like she’s about to use her red talons and scratch Adam’s face off. Instead, she kicks the photographs at me. “It doesn’t matter. I already ruined her life again. The pictures don’t lie.” She gives the cruelest smile in the history of the world and saunters down the hall to the back employee entrance.
One of the night nurses catches some of this, but I wave her away, letting her know everything is fine. She looks at Adamand back at me but doesn’t press it. She knows about what happened with him and with Roman and me, for that matter, as everyone in Boston does. But she and I aren’t close and instead she turns and goes back to work.
“Are you okay?” Adam asks, his hand going to my shoulder.
“Am I okay?” I laugh. That’s actually a good one. “No, I’m not okay. A woman plotted an entire revenge scheme for me and cornered me in my hospital, and you showed up because your PI, who’s been tailing me, tipped you off about it.” And I’m looking at pictures of my husband kissing another woman. So there’s that. “This isn’t exactly fucking Candy Land, Adam.”
His expression softens, his eyes all over me. “Braelyn, I’m sorry. About all of this. She seduced me. It was never my idea, and I never went after her. You have to believe me.”
I scrub my hands up my face and blow out the harshest breath of my life. “Adam, I seriously don’t have the bandwidth for another one of these conversations.”
He holds his hands out, placating me. “Fine. I get it. But she’s out of your life now. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Thank you.” It’s all I’ve got. It feels like someone was tenderizing my insides with a hammer. It’s as gruesome and painful as it sounds.
“I’d do anything for you.” He grasps my chin until I’m forced to look at him. “I still love you. Despite everything, I love you and I want to be with you. I tried to stay away these last couple of weeks. I fired her and I tried to clean everything up. But I can’t get over you.”
My face pinches up. “Adam, please…”
He bends and picks up all the photographs, keeping the ones of him and Anne but forcing the ones of Roman with the woman into my hand.
“Roman’s a loser. He’s damaged goods. You’ll see. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting and I’ll see you tonight at the fight.”
“Why are you going? You never go to his fights.”
“The bachelor party I’m attending wants to.”
That catches me strangely, but my head is too full to do much with it. He kisses my cheek and leaves me standing here. I fall back against the wall, trying to make sense of everything. Corporate Barbie and all the things she did simply because she heard me say her husband was going to code. Yet another instance of my intuition being a serious motherfucker. Then Adam showing up and stepping in like that.
Now these.
The redhead has her arms around Roman’s neck and she’s pressing the side of her face against his chest. His arms are out as if he’s in the process of hugging her back, but her expression is one of pure contentment. Of happiness and love. His isn’t much of anything, and in the next picture, his eyes are closed and his hands are on her shoulders as they kiss.
And he is kissing her. I can see that. Their lips are pressed together and he’s holding her tightly.
“Hey,” a voice comes from my side. Quinn. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”
I don’t respond. I’m still staring at the picture of my husband kissing another woman. I mean, I realize I never call him my husband unless I’m teasing him, but that’s technically what he is. Boyfriend sounds dumb in my head because it’s Roman, but he’s that too. Or was, I guess.
No. Roman isn’t this guy.
“Are you okay? You’re—what are those?”
“Pictures,” I manage, though my voice isn’t my own.
“I see that. Is that…”
“Yes. That’s Roman kissing another woman.”
Quinn takes the photos from my hand, but instead of lighting them on fire for me like a good friend would, she’s holding them up and inspecting them.
