“Confused? On your wedding night?”
“Gabe. I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I just ... I was shocked and a little hurt when he told me, and then I was in the bathroom with Clem and she suggested maybe the reason I was so upset was because I ... I had feelings for him too.”
“So you just decided to test out that theory?”
“I was angry. I was pissed that he’d had the audacity to tell me on my wedding night instead of just keeping that shit to himself.”
“Angry would have been telling me when it happened, so I could punch his face in. Not crying in our goddamn bathroom at our wedding reception and leaving our bed in the middle of the night to have it out with him. Angry isn’t kissing your fucking boss on your wedding day, Lo. Angry is walking out on your honeymoon.”
He stares at me for a beat, as if he doesn’t even know the woman he married.
I plead with my eyes as he steps away from me and heads toward the stairs. “Gabe, where are you going? It’s minus ten out there.”
“Yeah, but out there I don’t have to look at you.”
“Gabe.” His words are a wicked blade right through my heart, but I guess I deserve that.
“I can’t, Freckles.” He shakes his head. “I knew he wanted to fuck you. I’ve known for years, but I thought you were better than that.”
My mouth gapes, and I don’t have anything to say to that. The truth is, I did want to fuck Arturo that night, I still do, and if I hadn’t come to my senses, there’s no telling how far I would have let things go in the heat of the moment. My husband has every right to hate me.
It’s early morning and I haven’t slept a wink when I hear the Charger pull into the driveway. Gabe just sits there for God knows how long, and I have half a mind to stomp outside and tear him a new one, but I get cramps when I stand, and I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open.
The car door slams, and he trudges up the porch stairs and enters the keycode on the pad by the door. There’s a metallic click of the lock and Gabe pushes open the door, stopping dead in his tracks when he finds me sitting on the couch. He looks like hell and smells like a fucking distillery—meaning he drove like that. Now I’m even more furious. He staggers across the room and stands in front of the fire, warming his trembling hands.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, considering how flammable you are right now?”
He gives a humorless laugh. “My wife just admitted to being in love with another man ... on our honeymoon, no less. I think I’m entitled to a drink.”
“A drink, or the whole damn bar? And I never said I was in love with him,” I snap. He doesn’t bother turning around to face me and I let out a shaky, frustrated breath. “I was worried sick about you.”
“I was passed out in the back of the car for most of the night.”
“You can’t do that to me, Gabe. I haven’t slept a wink. I was terrified you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“Sure felt like it.”
A sharp pain twists my abdomen. I wince and press a hand to my belly as I shift to try and get comfortable. I’m not sure why I bother. There really is no getting comfortable this late in my pregnancy. “Ow. Goddamn it.”
Gabe turns and takes inventory of my entire being. “Lo, what’s wrong?”
I shake my head and ease myself back into a half reclining position. “I’m okay. The baby’s probably just kicking or something.”
“The doctor said stress isn’t good for the baby.”
“Yeah, well apparently, we’re experts at causing one another stress and pain, so what’s new?”
“This is our honeymoon, Freckles. We’re not supposed to be fighting.”
“Or stay out all night drinking.”
“Or want to fuck other men on our wedding night.”
He has a point. “That’s fair. If I could take that back—”
“Do you love him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I could admit that I’d kissed Arturo, but I would never tell Gabe that some small part of me was in love with him too. It would destroy him.