Page 82 of Two Wrongs
‘Like you care.’
‘Like you’d know,’ she responds, shock immediately colouring her face.
‘How the hell am I supposed to know anything when you walked away?’ With each word, my volume increases until I’m surely shouting.
‘Y-you don’t want to know, and you don’t need to know. Just like we don’t need anything from you.’
‘Who’s the we in this picture?’ I grate the question out. Even though I’m certain she means her and the baby in her belly, the cave dweller in me can’t help where his tiny mind lands. ‘You and your new man?’ The thought is pure rage.
‘Yeah, sure.’ Her hands are in the air like the words are throwaway. ‘If that makes it easier for you, absolutely. My new man.’
I take a step toward her, knowing full well what it must take her to stand her ground. Knowing and not giving a fuck in the midst of this pissed-off rage.
‘For once in your fucking life, say what you mean. Tell. Me. The. Truth.’
‘What do you want me to say?’ Plaintive. Her words sound more like a plea. Not an appeal for mercy, but something to make me go away. ‘Why are you even here?’
Why I’m here is for another conversation. Some things are more important than porn and court cases. Some things take precedence, andsome thingscan wait.
‘What does it matter why? I’m here, and you need to tell me aboutthat.’ My eyes dip to her waistline like they’re hypnotized.
‘That?That?’ she all but screeches. ‘That happens to be a two-thirds cooked baby, you idiot. Try referring to y—my childas something other thanthat.’
My eyes track up her body. Is it the cool breeze or our anger that has her nipples hard?
‘So it is mine then,’ I demand as my eyes land on hers. I know it, but her confirmationisrequired.I want the truth from her mouth.
‘Just do us both a favour and crawl back to whichever harlot’s bed you’ve rolled out of.’
This woman. So modest. At least, that’s what she’d like you to think.
‘Harlot?’ I raise one taunting brow. ‘You mean like Cindy? Or maybe Liza from the salon?’ My tone is benign, even if both names are aimed to rub old hurts. These aren’t girls I’ve fucked, but girls—colleagues of hers—who’d hit on me at one time or another, much to her distaste.Yeah, the wife no one knew about—at her insistence. The one who gave me a hard time over their interest anyway. ‘Or Lissa, the dog walker? Or are we talking about Georgia here?’
Arms folded again; her nose begins to twitch. It shouldn’t be cute, but it is. Cute and satisfying as it’s a sign that she’s losin’ it. Here it comes. The jealous streak. The green cascade. My Poison Ivy. And I love it.
‘Fucking slut!’ she bellows. Fists raised like she’d just love to clock me one, she stomps a tiny sandal-clad foot. ‘Why don’t you just fuck off back to whichever blonde bimbo’s hole you slipped out of last!’
‘She wasn’t blonde.’
And that’s the truth because Ivy was the last woman I was in. Not that there’d be any point in telling her, or any chance of her believing because I can hardly believe it myself. I’ve been off the booze and celibate for five or six months... six months. I can’t stop the smile creeping across my face.So that’s what six months pregnant looks like. Beautiful. And angry.
‘What are you fucking smirking at?’
‘Six months.’ Well, fuck me sideways.
‘How does your fiancée feel about your non-blonde slut?’
‘How does my wife feel? And slut shaming, Ivy,tsk-tsk.Do those girls really deserve to be called such names?’
‘Don’t wife me, you... bastard. And I meant you—you’re the slut!’
It’s all in the delivery, I suppose.
If her words are well-aimed barbs, they’re also poisoned with the truth. I feel raw—flayed—and turn away, unable to bear the weight of her accusing amber gaze.I am a slut. And a fuck up. And—
‘That’s right, Dylan. Just walk away,’ she crows from behind. ‘Maybe if you go back to the party, you’ll find someone to suck your dick. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your fiancée; she’ll learn for herself soon enough because that’s what you do, isn’t it? Ruin and hurt. Raze love to the ground.’
I stop in my tracks, forcing deep and even breaths through my chest. ‘Are you kidding me right now?’ I say, turning back to face her. ‘You spend months letting me believe you fucked someone else, and you expect me to—’
