His phone began to vibrate in his pocket between them, causing reality to crash down upon them all at once. He closed his eyes, cringing as the phone buzzed yet again. He rolled off her to the side of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said, forcing himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “I need to get this.”
She pushed herself from the mattress and nodded. She couldn’t see his face, but the tension in his back told her all she needed to know. It was the same person from earlier. Possibly the same person who couldn’t live without him.
She got off the bed, took his shirt from the floor, and dragged it over her head.
“Hello,” she heard him say, just as she closed the bathroom door behind her.
She looked at herself in the mirror. To her long blond hair that framed her now flushed cheeks. To Tristan’s too large t-shirt that covered her trembling body. To her eyes that pleaded with her, telling her not to admit that she was lost. But she was. Somewhere along the way she had fallen, sometimes kicking and screaming, but there was no denying it any longer. She had fallen in love with Tristan Montgomery.
It was bitter realization, and one she was reluctant to make, but she was fooling herself to think this could be only a fling. This was real, heavy, and bigger than anything she’d ever felt before. And it would shatter her soul before it was over.
Still hearing his voice through the door, she pulled the t-shirt over her head, and then turned on the water to mute out the sound. To not listen to the man she was falling in love with talking to another woman.
The water was hard and warm when she stepped into the shower. She let the stream beat down on her, hoping the feeling would offer some sort of distraction. The water warmed her, comforted her, but could never wash away the kisses he ferociously left behind.
The door to the bathroom opened a moment later, and soon Tristan was standing behind her. His body pressed against hers, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer again. She told herself not to ask, to enjoy the rest of the evening, and the body that was only hers on loan, but she couldn’t. She needed to know, she needed answers.
Turning to face him, she rested her hands on his bare chest as looked up into his eyes. She couldn’t let herself fall and not try to stop it when she knew all that waited for her was thorns. “Who was that?” she asked.
He looked into her eyes, pleading for her not to ask the question.
“Who was that?” she asked again. She asked for the sixteen-year-old girl who was too insecure to call him out on his behavior. For the girl who wasn’t strong enough to resist a six-year long relationship, even though she knew it wasn’t what she wanted.
He cleared his throat and looked over her head to grab a bottle of soap. “It was my mom.”
She ripped the curtain open, not able to bear his lies, and got out of the shower. She yanked a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her body. “Don’t lie to me.”
Her world was crashing in all around her, the walls, the ceiling. He followed after her, grabbed hold of her arms, and forced her to look up at him. “I don’t lie.”
That was the second time he’d said that to her, and her legs began to shake beneath her. “Is that who can’t live without you?” The words were angry, unbelieving, and held all the insecurities that were overflowing from her very core.
She was outing herself. Making him completely aware of what she’d done, and the expression on his face shifted in an instant. He ripped a towel from the wall, wrapped it around his waist, and went to the bedroom. “Exactly.”
She closed her eyes, not able to open them until the bathroom door closed behind him, leaving her alone, wrapped in guilt, hurt, and trembling like a leaf.
She opened the door again and followed after him, not sure if it was the look on his face or the sound of his voice that made her believe him, but she did. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, and his back hunched over as though he was in pain.
Her chin began to tremble, but she walked toward him, pressing his head into her belly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what makes me become so insecure around you. I’m so sorry. It’s none of my business—”
He looked up then, cutting her off and making her throat instantly tighten. “My father’s having an affair. Renee doesn’t have a clue, so that’s why I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to put you in a position to have to lie to her, but please don’t tell her.” His voice was hoarse and shredded, as if he was confessing something that brought him great misery.
She pulled in a breath, trying to get hold of her emotions, because she couldn’t bear seeing him like this. Suddenly she understood him. Understood the man who behaved as though he held the world on his shoulders. Because he did. His family’s world. His sister’s world. The people he loved.
She dropped to her knees in front of him and pulled him to her chest. He grabbed hold of her, wrapping his thick arms around her, hugging her, burying his head in her hair like he was desperate to be close to her.
“It was on a Thursday, right after I got off work. I saw him with my own eyes.” He quieted for a moment, as though trying to pull himself together. “The bastard actually tried to tell me it was nothing.”
She gripped him tighter and kissed the top of his head, urging him to continue.
“He’s having an affair with a thirty-year old woman who was supposed to be his secretary. He’s been lying to us for a long time. Mom and Dad have stopped talking, so I’m trying to juggle all communication. They’re going to try and play nice for Renee, until the wedding is over, but Mom’s a fucking mess.” The words rushed out of him, as though he’d been carrying the burden for far too long. “I’ve never seen her like this.” His voice shredding and she pushed his hair repeatedly back from his face.
Her heart was breaking. Not only for him, but for all of them. Because the Montgomerys were solid. Always together. Always strong. “Renee doesn’t know any of this?” she asked quietly.
“No.”
She swallowed hard, knowing this wasn’t a good idea. “She’s going to know the second she sees them. She’ll sense it.”
He only shook his head, gripping the base of his skull between thumb and forefinger. “That’s what I keep telling Mom, but she’s stubborn. She thinks they’ll be fine. I’m just waiting for everything to fall apart.”
He then looked to her face, searching her eyes. For what she wasn’t sure, but the vulnerability she witnessed made her want to give him everything. A moment later he stood, lifting her up from the floor and into his arms. He sat with her again in the chair beside the bed, gently rocking her. “Don’t ever lie to me, Samantha,” he whispered. “Promise me.”