Page 179 of Homewrecker

“No, we’re not doing that today.” I walked toward him. “She said you come home every night.”

“It isn’t every night.”

“She said you cook dinner.”

“I cook sometimes.”

“She said you disappear into your man cave until midnight.”

He sighed. “Blair—”

“That’s why you stop texting.”

“No.”

“That’s why after eight, nine o’clock, suddenly you’re tired.”

“I’m usually working.”

“In your man cave.”

He looked away.

I slapped my hands together. “Got it.”

“Listen to me.”

“I’ve been listening to you for three fucking years!”

My voice exploded through the apartment. “Three years!”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know.” I pointed toward the bedroom. “I helped you decorate this fucking apartment!”

“I know.”

“I picked out the goddamn sheets.”

“I know.”

“You framed our pictures!”

“Blair.”

“You gave me a fucking ring!”

My hand flew up between us and the diamond sparkled. “And meanwhile, your ass is going home every night making salmon for your wife?”

He started to stumble on his words. “It is not like that.”

I laughed so hard I almost choked. “Of course it isn’t.”

“She’s been doing better.”

“Great.”

“And after everything with the pregnancy—”