“Like what?”
“Like you aren’t enough for me.”
“Because I love you, and I’m going to work toward being more than enough for a woman like you.”
I blinked up at him, then looked away, over my shoulder. My eyes connected with Felipe’s and all I could feel was guilt, shame. Roland’s words were kind and sweet and I wished in that very moment he would always be enough for me, but even that night, I knew he wouldn’t be.
I was not a monogamous woman. I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it. I owned my sexuality, carried it like a shield and a weapon if need be. I should have walked away that night, given Roland the chance for something better before the ink dried, but I didn’t because there was hope in his eyes and I wanted to cling to that hope. I wanted to be the right woman for him, and I wanted him to be the only man for me. I wanted to change and accept my new life.
But the truth is, I never stopped thinking about Felipe. Every time he came around or popped up for a visit, I felt this tug in my gut, this burning heat between my thighs, a yearning for him that Roland had created without even realizing it, and I tried so hard to ignore it. I tried to forget about the night with him before my wedding—forget about the way he pulled my hair, spanked my ass, kissed me between my thighs. But it was impossible to stop thinking about it. Still, I didn’t cave or fall into temptation. I remained loyal . . . until Dylan moved in.
And damn, was Dylan a surprise. I suppose I had so much bottled up in me that when I saw him, I was ready to pounce. I got possessive and hungry and needy and Felipe wasn’t around as much, but this other man was. And he looked at me. He saw me. He wanted me too, and damn if I didn’t want to own that, claim it. And eventually I did.
I went back to Felipe after seeing you, Dr. Walden—after realizing that the night with him in the hotel was the root of what was wrong with me and Roland. I’d had issues before and Roland knew that, but he didn’t care. He wanted me against all the odds . . . but I stopped wanting him. And therein lay the problem.
I hate admitting this, but after the Hawaii stint and months after therapy, I met Felipe in a hotel again and let him fuck me. For hours I let him have me, and we even spoke about living together if I left Roland. It was a good night, but then it ended and he had to go. I drove back home, eager to walk into the mansion with my suitcase to prove to Roland that I’d been out, most likely with someone else, and he did see me. He was coming down the stairs as I was coming up with the suitcase. He stopped on the steps, glanced down at it, looked me in the eye for a brief moment, then kept going down, but I didn’t miss the tick in his jaw, or the flame that’d started in his eyes.
He didn’t care then and he doesn’t care now. Whether he knew I was with another man or not, it clearly didn’t faze him anymore. The damage had already been done a long time ago, and neither of us was willing to own up to it, so instead we dealt with each other’s bullshit and stomped around the house in fits and rages.
My husband no longer wants me, so why the fuck won’t he just let me go? Why does he keep me around? What does he expect to get out of this other than more affairs and bitterness? Is it his pride? Does he think I’ll shout about my affairs to the rooftops? Write about it in a book to make him look bad? Because I damn sure am not going to sabotage myself that way. Writing to you is already too much for me.
So, where do we go from here, Dr. Walden?
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
She’d gone back to Felipe? But . . . we’d just had dinner with him. How could Roland allow him to be around after that? He was there that night—he gave her permission to do things with his friend. It was just like the situation with Dylan, except I didn’t think Roland knew about Melanie and Dylan. . . but now I was starting to second-guess that too.
Something bumped against the shed and a sharp gasp broke out of me, the journal falling out of my hands and thudding on the floor. Then I heard footsteps pounding into the ground. I rushed to the window to look out of it, heart pounding, and my pulse in my ears, but didn’t see anyone out there.