Page 25 of Backup Plan

He didn’t show up tonight until they were asleep. He didn’t see them last night, either. He never spends time with them, and Sammy told me that when he has them for the weekends and I go to my mom’s house, some woman named Heather takes care of them.

Last year, a video of my husband went viral for all the wrong reasons. He was in a suite at a basketball game, and when the cameras panned to him, he was making out with some woman who isn’t his wife—and presumably who isn’t Heather, either. The announcers poked lighthearted fun at them, saying how there was more action in that suite than on the court, but the damage was done. The announcers didn’t know who he was despite his fame as a bit of a local celebrity. They didn’t know that he was married, that the woman whose mouth he was shoving his tongue into wasn’t his wife.

He’s a pig. A slimy slimeball. A total jerk. A cheater.

And I’m the woman nobody would leave alone for weeks afterward. I still see the memes people made of them when I’m scrolling the internet. And that’s why you’ll rarely find me scrolling anything at all these days except when I have to for work.

Maybe it’s time for a new line of work.

I hate Brent with every fiber of my being. I’m long over him. But I don’t know if I’ll ever get over what he did to me, cheating on me in public when he’s a well-known face around town since he has his real estate business plastered on every billboard, bus, and city bench within twenty-five miles of metropolitan Chicagoland.

I storm out of the family room and head to the guest room, and I shut the door quietly so as not to wake the boys even though I want to slam it with every fiber of my being.

Where do I even go?

It’s not like I can just walk out tonight no matter how much I want to. I deserve better. The boys deserve better.

All I know is that I need to get out of here. This situation is way too toxic for the boys to be around—even when they’re asleep. Because tomorrow morning, they’ll be awake again, feeling all the anger and negative vibes this house is filled with now because of their father.

I can’t do that to them.

I leave tomorrow for Vegas, and the boys are already asleep. I sort of have to just deal with it tonight. But I need to come up with a backup plan.

My mom’s place isn’t big enough for both kids and me to move in. It’s fine for a night or two, but not for a temporary living situation. At least not comfortably. The guest room only has one twin, so usually the boys sleep in sleeping bags when they visit. It could work temporarily, but I need to be on my best behavior, and I need to prove to the court that the asshole who baits me and films me doesn’t deserve to spend another second with the kids.

I just want to get the hell out of here, out of this marriage, out of this goddamn prison I’m in. I’m trapped, and Brent holds the keys. I hate that he has the power here just because he makes more money. I could be making more if I would’ve had the time to move up in my company. Instead, I became a mom. I don’t regret that for one hot second. I love my children. They’re my entire heart and soul, and it’s exactly what I always wanted.

Just…not with Brent.

Liam’s offer comes to mind again.

Liam.

What a heady contrast to the asshole who I married. He’s young, and he’s kind. Sweet, even. He walked me to my car.

And that tongue of his.

I’m getting hot just thinking about it.

He’s green flag after green flag.

And his place is more than big enough.

He didn’t show me the three other bedrooms since we landed in his bedroom and didn’t really leave, but it would be a temporary solution to get me and the kids the hell out of here.

I can’t, though. I can’t just move into a twenty-six-year-old’s bachelor pad.

Especially not when all I want to do is fall back into his bed with him.

CHAPTER 8: Liam Bradley

Forty-Six Minutes

I’m back on another plane a mere seven hours after I got off the last one. I sat in the first-class lounge with Madden and Kennedy and gave them the rundown of my visit, and they’re two rows behind me as I stare out the window while the rest of the passengers board.

The visit went well. Incredibly well, actually.

While I’m only six years younger than Tanner, one never knows what the future holds. He’s got a wife and two stepkids. Maybe he’ll want to hang it up to be with them, or maybe he won’t. Maybe his ACL isn’t the same as it used to be, and it’ll slow him down. Maybe it’s stronger than ever.