Michaela had left a lot behind at her cottage, but she’d brought these. I felt so fucking stupid. Here I was unpacking her shit while she had a contingency plan tucked away. Who knew if she was ever going to want to truly be my wife. Could I live like this, always wondering when she’d leave?
My heart hammered, and a vein pulsed in my forehead. This was too much. First Yael, and now this. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I needed out. Out where there was air and I could get lost.
Shoes on, button to the elevator smashed, I bounced on the balls of my feet, studying the lighted numbers, letting that be my sole focus. When I got to the lobby, I took the side exit, having no patience to deal with any paparazzi or the random fan who’d found my building.
Fueled by adrenaline, I ran. Dodging pedestrians, I sped down busy sidewalks, giving my heart something other than Michaela to hammer about. I didn’t even know how long I ran for. Long enough for my lungs to burn from exertion. My legs were wobbly by the time I fell on a park bench, heaving breath after breath.
As I got my breathing under control, my spinning mind calmed too. My extreme reaction had more to do with Yael and the turmoil of my parents than Michaela. I mean, yeah, it hurt like hell to know she’d been ready to wash her hands of me, but Ihadscrewed up in a major way. We’d come a long way since then.
I must’ve been gone three or four hours by the time I trekked back home. I’d left in such a mad dash frenzy, I’d forgotten my phone, so it was no surprise the screen was glowing with notifications.
Michaela wasn’t home yet, but she should be soon. We’d be talking, but now, I’d be more in control of what came out of my mouth.
I picked up my phone, slowly scrolling through the dozens of messages. A few were from Clark, several from my PR woman, Tara, and the most recent one was from Yael.
I opened hers first.
CALL ME!
Succinct, but alarming. I called her.
“Hey, where have you been?” she answered.
“Running. What’s going on?”
“Did you have your phone on you?”
“No.” I sat my sweaty ass on one of my dining room chairs. “You gonna tell me why my phone was lit up like a menorah?”
“One of the blogs posted some pictures...Michaela’s in them…”
My brow pinched, and I leaned forward over my knees. “What do you mean? Did they figure out who she is? She and I haven’t been anywhere together…”
She sighed the weight of the world. “You’re not in them. She was with Devon Chambers.”
“Wait, what?” I squeezed the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “When? Where?”
“Hold on. I’ll text you the link.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear, watching it like it had a time bomb ticking away inside it.
A text came through from Yael. I clicked the link with reluctance, bile rising in my throat. There, on my screen, was a picture of my wife being touched by another man. His hands on her stomach, smiling at each other with affection. That they were in broad daylight on a sidewalk made no difference. Her ex-husband was touching her, and she hadn’t told me about this.
The headline made a terrible, gut-clenching situation even worse. “A baby for Devon Chambers and his ex-wife, Michaela Ashwood?”
“Fuck. What the fuck?”
“Moses...it’s okay. Call Tara and Clark, they’ll tell you guys what to do. You’re obviously going to have to release that statement and—”
I stopped listening to my sister the moment the front door opened and Michaela walked in wearing the same clothes I’d just seen on my screen.
“Hey, you.” She smiled and slipped off her shoes while I hung up my phone and rose from my chair like a damn zombie.
“Hey. What’d you do today?” I asked.
She pushed her errant curl off her forehead, her eyes darting to the side, then back to me. “Can you give me five minutes before I bore you for the next hour about work?” She held a messenger bag close to her side. “I need to pee, then I want to tell you all the things.”
She disappeared into the bathroom, and I sagged against the wall. This was so fucking bad. Betrayal rolled through my body like waves of acid, burning me all the way to the bone.