Page 202 of Homewrecker

His thumb brushed my cheek. “Badly.”

I laughed through my tears. “Damn.”

“You fucked up pretty bad.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I shoved his shoulder. Then he pulled me closer. His arms wrapped around me, and I buried my face against his chest.

Nash kissed the top of my head. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you need to stop asking whether you’re still a homewrecker.”

I pulled back.

“And start asking yourself what you’ve built since.”

He pulled me back against him. Eventually, I whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Choosing to stay.”

“Don’t make it bigger than what it is.”

I pulled back. “Excuse me?”

He laughed. “Not like that.”

“That sounded terrible.”

“What I’m saying is, don’t turn me staying into proof that you’re worthy. You can’t keep letting other people’s choices decide how you feel about yourself. People leaving doesn’t prove you’re bad and me staying doesn’t prove you’re good. You have to know who the fuck you are without either one.”

My heart rate had finally slowed. Nash knowing didn’t erase it and him staying didn’t rewrite what I’d done. That was the point. I didn’t need a rewrite. I needed to stop believing the worst chapter of my life had to be the title of the whole damn book.

26

Blair

BEFORE

I sat on my couch staring at the wall for so long that the room started to blur. I had cried so much. I had cried at the apartment and in the car. I cried so hard at one red light that the man beside me looked over like he wasn’t sure if he should call for help.

By the time I made it home, there was nothing left. No tears. No screaming. No thoughts that made sense.

Three years of my life rearranging themselves into something I barely recognized. Ravenna had been at home thinking she was fixing her marriage while I was across town thinking I was patiently waiting for it to end.

Two women. One stupid fucking man that somehow managed to convince both of us that we were the one he was fighting for.

My phone buzzed beside me. I knew it was Caleb. He has been constantly calling me. I had muted him on the drive home. Apparently that wasn’t enough because I could still see the screen lighting up from the corner of my eye.

I picked up the phone. I considered answering. Just to hear what lie came next. Just to hear which version of reality he had prepared now that both women knew enough to ruin him.

But something in me snapped. I threw it, and it hit the wall with a crack so loud. The screen shattered and the phone fell to the floor in pieces. I stared at it and laughed. It wasn’t funny, but that felt good. I stood and grabbed a decorative vase from a table. I threw that too, watching it explode against the wall. Glass scattered across the floor.