Page 6 of Forever Fighting
And he’s doing it from my bedroom.
Along with the harmony of two people moaning over him.
I drop my AirPods back into my purse and set my bag down on the floor by the entryway. For a moment, I can’t make myself move. I just stand here, listening to freaking Harry while staring at the trail of clothes that leads from the front door toward the bedroom.
My eyes burn and the tip of my nose stings.
It’s funny. For how good my patient intuition is, clearly it sucks when it comes to myself because I never ever would have seen this coming. Knowing that when I walk into the bedroom I share with my fiancé, I’m going to find him fucking another woman in it. The bastard peppered me with hugs and kisses this morning, and we walked to the train together holding hands.
“I love you. Have a great shift,” he said to me as we got on different trains.
And now this.
Releasing a breath, I force myself forward. I have to see it with my own eyes, even though I know it’s going to rip me apart. I step over their clothes, wading through the sea of corporate attire until I reach the bedroom.
A woman with long blonde hair is sitting naked on top of my fiancé and faking her orgasm. Her moans are loud and exaggerated as she bounces on his lap. His face, meanwhile, is pinched up in pleasure—no faking for him. As if the gods of irony are shining down on me at this moment, the song comes to an end just as they finish. I start clapping, applauding both their efforts. It breaks through perfectly before the next song starts.
The woman screams and races to cover herself with my favorite Egyptian cotton sheets, and Adam fumbles with his phone to turn off the music as another sweeping ballad starts. She looks familiar. I can’t place her, but I’ve seen her before.
“I didn’t think you liked Harry Styles,” I say to him.
He looks at me, blinking about six thousand times, and I can see his wheels spinning as he mentally questions, “What can I say that will get me out of this?” And when he realizes there’s nothing, he utters, “Um. I don’t.”
“Oh, it must be her favorite then. How sweet of you.” I look at her. “Hi. I’m Braelyn. Who are you? Other than the woman fucking my fiancé in my bed?” She opens her mouth to speak, and I wave her away. “Never mind. Totally not important.” Ifshe talks and gives me her name or says something stupid, I might kill her. “It’s wild, though, because I can tell you knew about me when I knew nothing about you.” I turn back to Adam. “You brought your Corporate Barbie hookup to our home? To our bed? What the absolute fuck?”
“Brae—”
I hold up my hand, stopping him from speaking because I’m about ready to kill him too. Only I decide I actually do want to kill him and race over to slap him.
“You lying, cheating, son of a bitch bastard. How could you do this?” My hands fly, hitting him repeatedly, anywhere I can get. “Our fucking wedding invitations landed in people’s mailboxes today. You’ve been one of my best friends since we were fucking kids!”
Like the coward he is, he covers his head with his arms to prevent me from wailing on him, and I can’t with this. I just can’t.
“I’m sorry. Ow. Shit. Stop! It was just sex. It didn’t mean?—”
I punch him in the stomach, making him oomph. I’ll have to thank Roman later for teaching me that move. “Don’t you fucking dare say that to me!” God, why do cheating assholes always say it didn’t mean anything? Like that’s supposed to make it better they were sticking their dick inside another woman?
I can’t be here anymore with them naked and uncomfortable like I’m the unstable one in all of this. It smells like sex, and the bastard still has the used condom on his shriveled-up dick.
“I fucking hate you!” I scream, rip my engagement ring from my finger, chuck it at his stupid head, and race for the door as the first of my tears come, pouring from my eyes like a broken faucet. He broke me. The bastard broke me because damn him! I’m not a crier!
I snatch my purse off the floor and fly out the door,slamming it shut behind me and practically tumbling down the stairs with how fast I move. My feet hit the sidewalk, early rush hour brushing past in each direction, and a car horn blares, making me jump. I don’t think about where I’m going. I don’t question it.
I just run because I know he’ll be there, and right now, the only person I want in the world after this is Roman. Everything is always okay when I’m with him. It’s his superpower. We’ve held each other up through the worst of the worst.
And we did it with Adam as part of that.
The March air in Boston is sharp and a little wet, but I don’t care. My feet pound the pavement, and I dodge a million people giving me a million different looks.
Let them look. My fiancé cheated on me. Likely has been cheating since I highly, highly doubt that was the first time. No, Corporate Barbie wasn’t shocked by me, and she wasn’t mad at him. They fucked there because I wasn’t supposed to be home until close to eight instead of showing up three hours early. To think I would have crawled into bed beside him after they did that there makes me sick.
Uppercut, Roman’s steakhouse, is just up the block, and I breathe a sigh of relief. He has three restaurants in Boston as well as others across the world, and all have a boxing-related name to them.
I enter through the back door that leads to a back room, and I loop around toward the kitchen. It’s all hustle and bustle back here. The smell of cheese, garlic, wine, and meat permeates the air. Normally, I’d be drooling, but right now, it makes me want to throw up.
I spot Roman in front of a line of metal tables, talking to another chef. He’s so tall and broad and formidable. Brown hair cut short and tight to his head, palest of pale blue-green eyes that make him look almost like a wolf, and arms swirlingwith tattoos hidden beneath his white chef’s coat but peeking out a bit on his hands.
I don’t want to disturb him. He’s busy, and suddenly, I think I need some time alone to process this. Before he spots me, I walk through the back area to the main dining space. The restaurant doesn’t open until five, and the bartender is busy setting up. I slide onto a stool and pick up a menu when she notices me.
