Page 7 of Bad Husband

The brunette released a few buttons on her dress, gave a little wriggle, and sauntered over to him.

“Hey, handsome,” she said, giving a smile with a lot of teeth on display. “What can I get you?”

“I want Chiara to serve me,” he said.

“I’m afraid you’ve sat in my section. If you want Chiara, you’re going to have to move tables.” She let out an annoying giggle, but he shocked her by literally switching tables. “But, uh, I am happy to service you.”

He had no doubt what she was after, but he wasn’t buying jack shit from her.

Heather left in a huff, and she flicked her hair and kept her back to him. Chiara had no choice but to come and serve him, especially as several other customers entered the store. All of them looked tired already. The heat was getting to everyone, himself included. He already felt the sweat dripping down his back.

Chiara stepped close, taking a pencil out from behind her ear, and holding a little notebook. “What can I get you?” she asked.

“What about a smile?” he asked. He missed her smile.

Chiara looked at him. “What do you want?”

“Damn it, Chiara, I can take you away from all of this. You know I can. You can come back—”

“Till the next time lies get spread about me?” she asked. “Until you decide I have done something that so highly offends you?”

“I made a mistake,” he said.

“Yeah, you did, and I had to pay the price, and as it happens, I made a life here. I survived and I don’t need you or anyone else. What do you want? I’ll get it for you, and then you can leave. Leave this place and never look back. Also, I want that divorce,” she said.

More and more people were filling up the diner. It was a little after eight.

He was fucking tired from sleeping in his car. It was a relief to see his wife. The love he had for Chiara hadn’t gone away, but now, he felt that other emotion. An emotion he never experienced before—guilt. It sat within his gut, twisting the blade. He hurt Chiara. And it sickened him. The memory of it kept playing in his mind. This is what he did to her. He punished her, feeling that betrayal in his core, and it was his fault. Chiara had been innocent from the start.

“I’ll have the waffles and bacon,” he said.

****

Chiara disappeared into the private bathroom, reaching for the sink. She closed her eyes, took several deep breaths, and tried to focus on everything but the man who invaded her freaking trailer.

She didn’t know what to think or feel. Part of her was glad to see him, another wanted to claw his face right off. He thought the worst of her, and now that he found the evidence to his satisfaction, he was here. Did he expect her to just cave to him? He was happy so they could go back to the way things were? That was not going to happen. She was not a fool.

“It’s all right, Chiara. You can do this.”

But she felt that sickness. For weeks after being dumped at the side of the road without even a jacket, she had thought about this moment so many different times. She thought about killing him. If she hadn’t reached into one of his soldier’s pockets and grabbed the pistol, she wouldn’t have had anything to protect herself with. That pistol was a saving grace. She knew the risks to her life. It was why she spent some of her hard-earned money on bullets. That had been a scary trip to a gun store.

Growing up, her father had been the one to teach her how to shoot. They would go out onto the gun ranges, and he was one of the few men who believed it wasn’t a woman’s place to rely on a man. He also believed there might be circumstances she would have to protect herself, and he’d been right. Actually, she hadn’t needed to protect herself from the outside world, but from her husband and the world she had grown up in. A world where she had thought she was safe. Who had framed her? What turned Marco against her so quickly?

There was a knock at the door.

“Chiara, are you all right?” Heather asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a moment,” she said.

She flushed the toilet, even though she hadn’t used it, and quickly checked her reflection. Everything was fine. She didn’t look like she was hanging on by a thread.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Heather was there, looking concerned. “Are you okay?” She reached out and touched her shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Is that hot, rich guy giving you trouble?”

Chiara laughed. “What makes you think he’s rich?”