Page 93 of The Illusion
"What are you doing here?" he asks, like it’s normal that I just threw his door open.
“I’m here because I want to know what the fuck you’re thinking right now.”
He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with deliberate slowness like he's buying time to calculate his response. “I see you talked to Jamie,” he says. “It’s nice that you care, but this is between me and my wife."
He assumes that I only talked to Jamie, which is his first mistake.
"Bullshit.” I step closer. The office stretches around us-floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the city like a backdrop he bought to impress people, everything polished wood and brushed steel and understated wealth-but the space feels like it's shrinking, the walls pressing in as the oxygen thins.
"You fucking ambushed her, asshole. That isn’t just between the two of you. She was a fucking mess, Asher.”
Something shifts in his expression before he blinks and smooths it away. "Wow. That little bitch lied to me. She didn't go back to work. She went running to you to cry about the session."
"Don’t you dare fucking call her a bitch ever again. She lied about one thing, Asher.One." My voice drops, gravelly with the effort of keeping control. "You've been lying for years. Aboutmore than one thing. Aboutme. About me having a revolving mattress. I know what you told her about me. You’re fucking sick."
His eyes narrow and his jaw is clenched as he takes in what I’ve just said.
“I see you two hadquitea heart to heart.”
Oh, he’s big mad. Good.
“Yeah, we did. And we compared some notes. So now I’m wondering what the fuck you were doing telling her I spend the lion’s share of my time fucking half of Seattle.”
He’s silent for a minute. Finally, he shrugs. "I didn’t want her looking at you. No good husband wants their wife flirting with other men.”
I look at him like a fucking alien is speaking through him. “What the fuck? She’s never flirted with me.”
“Right, because I made sure she wouldn’t by making you sound like a whore. I see I should’ve done a better job talking shit about you, though. She shouldn't have gone to you to whine about therapy. That was a fucked up move on her part."
I laugh, and the sound comes out ugly, jagged. "You don't get to play the betrayed husband when you're the one who orchestrated the whole thing. Amanda fucking Reeves? The girl you used to sneak into your dorm while your father was threatening to disown you? That's who you chose to treat Devon? And to 'help' your marriage?"
His face flushes, a sheen of sweat beading at his hairline despite the climate-controlled air. "It wasn't like that."
"It was exactly like that. You're tanking your marriage on purpose. You abandoned her at your anniversary dinner. You let Devon run your life like some creepy little shadow. You're not even trying to save it.”
"Don't bring Devon into this." His voice hardens, that protective edge that always surfaces when anyone questions his stepsister. "She'snot the issue. Julie is."
My hands curl into fists at my sides, nails digging crescents into my palms. "Julie hasn't done shit except try to love you. Your stepsister is a creepy little bitch who wants to ride your dick, and we both know it. Have you been sleeping with her?"
His jolts like I punched him. “What? No. Jesus Christ, Ryan."
The answer comes too fast, too sharp. There's something in his eyes-a flicker of guilt or defensiveness or something darker that I can't name but recognize as wrong. I don’t think he’s fucked her. But something is going on. It’s like he’s both lying and not.
"Then why is she the center of your entire world? Why does she get to torment your wife while you stand there and let it happen?"
He shrugs, that casual gesture so at odds with the tension vibrating through the room. "She's a useful distraction. Everyone thinks Devon's the issue. Makes it easy for everyone to blame the marriage on her instead of what's actually happening."
"Have you been fucking Amanda again?"
He pauses. Just for a second, but it's enough.
"No." Then he adds, almost as an afterthought: "At least, not yet."
The words land like a physical punch to my sternum. I step closer, close enough to see the pores in his skin, the slight tremor in his hands where they rest on the desk. "Who the fuck even are you anymore? You love Julie. She's amazing, kind and funny and real in a way nobody in your world knows how to be other than me. Your fatherlikedher, and he hated everyone. What the hell are you doing?"
Something cold settles over his face, erasing every trace of the man I thought I knew.
“You’re right. Daddy Dearest really thought she was the bees knees.”
