Page 141 of Homewrecker

Blair

BEFORE

Two years.

Seven hundred and thirty days, give or take. That’s how long I’d been fucking that lady’s husband. Romantic, right?

There had been a time when saying it would’ve made my stomach hurt.

By year two, he simply became My boyfriend, My man, My person, My future husband, and The love of my life. Anything except the one title that actually applied.

Life was much prettier when you renamed shit. Caleb and I had survived the pregnancy termination. We survived the days I wouldn’t answer his calls and the week I blocked him. We survived the night he showed up at my house and sat outside for almost three hours because I refused to let him in. We survived Klair threatening to call the police on him. We survived me telling him I hated him. Then somehow, we survived our way right back into a relationship.

It didn’t happen immediately. That’s what I told myself to make it sound better.

We talked over the phone a lot. He gave me space, flowers, then more space.

He tried to show me the ultrasound picture, but I refused to look at it. We both cried so hard and grief did what grief sometimes does when two people share it. It made us feel like no one else in the world could understand us.

Eventually, talking turned into touching. Touching turned into sleeping beside each other. Sleeping turned into sex. Sex turned into I miss you. I miss you turned into a weekend away. And during our stay at a private beach, with an ocean view, expensive tequila and Caleb making love to me like he could fuck regret out of both of our bodies— I forgave him.

You couldn’t tell me shit. Apparently, I enjoyed learning lessons multiple times.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Caleb didn’t look away. He was sitting across from me at one of my favorite restaurants with his chin resting against his fist. He had rented the place out just for the two of us.

“You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m looking at you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

Two years and he could still make something flutter in my stomach with one stupid look.

The night had already been suspicious. First, Caleb told me to dress up. Then a car picked me up. When I called asking where he was, he told me to stop asking questions. Then I arrived at the restaurant with flowers and candles everywhere. My favorite wine was already waiting on the table for me.

I narrowed my eyes. “What did you do?”

His eyebrow lifted. “What makes you think I did something?”

“This.”

I motioned around us.

“It’s our anniversary,” he said.

I smiled so big. “I know.”

Two years. A lot had happened. Some beautiful, some devastating, and some I still couldn’t think about too long without my chest hurting.

“Happy anniversary,” I said.

Caleb lifted his glass. “Happy anniversary.”

I took a sip and he kept looking at me.