Page 37 of From the Embers
“Did you know?” he snarled from yards away, his voice echoing off the house.
My head snapped back, confusion striking me like a slap. “Did I know what?”
He stopped in front of me, his tall, muscular body vibrating with rage. “That your husband was fucking my wife!”
I scoffed, the mere thought of it so ludicrous that it was almost humorous. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He lifted a phone into my line of sight, revealing a picture of Jessica smiling into a mirror, one arm supporting her naked breasts, her other hand tangled in the top of her hair.
I put my palm out to block the image. “Jesus, Eason. Why are you showing me that?”
“Because she sent it to Rob!” he seethed through clenched teeth. With his finger, he gave the screen a swipe and dozens of blue and gray text bubbles rolled so fast that it was dizzying.
But like a roulette wheel straight out of the Twilight Zone, it stopped on a picture of Rob. Based on the teal-and-white pillowcase, he was in our bed. With his chest bare and a sheet draped over his hips, he had his face turned away from the camera. I could almost hear his rich laughter. However, it was Jessica curled up beside him, her naked breasts pressed into his side, a blinding smile beaming up at the camera, that stole the breath from my lungs.
“Where did you get that?” I hissed, shooting to my feet.
“His car,” Eason snapped, his chest heaving as he stared at me with eyes so cold and distant I barely recognized him.
I drew in a ragged breath, and as though oxygen had become poisonous, it burned all the way down.
It wasn’t possible.
There was no way the picture was real.
But there was no denying it, either.
“Is this some kind of sick joke? Because I have to be honest, Eason. It’s seriously fucked up.” A tear escaped the corner of my eye.
As if a light had been switched, his face immediately softened. “I wish,” he rumbled, handing me the phone. He started to pace, based on the sounds of his footsteps. I was too focused on the alternate universe in my palm to know for sure.
It wasn’t either of their phone numbers on the screen, but there were so many pictures it was easy to figure out who was who.
Jessica: I told Eason I was going to the grocery store. You think you can take an early lunch?
Rob: You’re my favorite lunch. Just tell me where.
“I don’t understand,” I choked out, pain radiating from the knife of betrayal lodged firmly between my shoulder blades.
“What is there to understand?” Eason snapped, planting his hands on his hips. “They were fucking behind our backs.”
“No.” Shaking my head as if it could erase the images etched in my mind, I stated, “He wouldn’t do that to me. She wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Yeah, well, they fucking did it to me, Bree.” He reached out and plucked the phone from my hand. “You want to see something fun?”
There was absolutely nothing fun he was going to show me, so I braced for impact as he swiped his finger across the screen, searching for God only knew what.
He sidled up beside me, bringing the phone between us. “Remember when I took her to Savannah for our anniversary?” He angled the phone so we could both see the photo on the screen. Jessica was making a kissing face at the camera, the strap of a black lacy see-through bra falling off her shoulder. “So this is the bathroom of the hotel from our anniversary trip.” He pointed to the bottom corner of the image where it appeared two mirrors reflected off of each other to show the rest of the hotel room. “That’s me. Asleep in bed.” He moved his finger to her bra. “And that’s the lingerie I bought her, but she told me she was too tired for sex, so she never even put it on.”
My stomach soured and my mouth dried. Their anniversary? That was months before the fire. “How long was this going on?”
“At least three months, though they’d been talking before that. The first text on there is about him having a new number that was safe. They were meeting up for lunch and on afternoons when I’d take Luna out for a walk. That new dance class she’d been taking at night?” He laughed without humor, pain carved in his handsome face. “Yeah, that was just some bullshit so they could meet up at the Four Seasons. Rob had a standing reservation every Tuesday and Thursday.”
I blinked several times, trying to make sense of the illogical. I’d always known that Rob and Jessica were friendly. He’d shown me memes she’d texted him about being a workaholic, and they’d get together to plan my birthday or shop for my Christmas presents. But an affair?
