Page 133 of Sin
Her eyes shine.
Then I add, “But I won’t let you use the board to punish Laurel.”
The softness disappears.
“Wow.” She blinks fast. “There it is.”
“Jenna—”
“No.” She holds up a hand. “Don’t. I think I finally understand.”
She looks me over like she’s seeing me clearly for the first time in years. Maybe she is.
“This isn’t just sex, is it?”
I should deny it. I should protect some final piece of this house, this marriage, this woman I once promised to love better than I did. But I’m out of lies.
“No,” I say.
The word is barely more than breath.
Still, she hears it. Her face collapses for half a second before she pulls it back together with a strength I don’t deserve.
“You love her.”
I don’t answer fast enough. That is also answer enough.
Jenna turns away, pressing a hand to her mouth. The sound she makes is small and devastated. It guts me.
“Jenna.”
“Don’t touch me.”
I stop before I realize I’ve taken a step toward her.
She drops her hand and faces me again. “Say it.”
My chest tightens.
“Say it, Mason.”
I look at my wife. I look at the woman I married when I was nineteen, when I was too young and scared and damaged to tell her the truth about the one choice I had already made with my body. I look at the woman I lied to for ten years about children. The woman I stayed with out of guilt, habit, history, fear. The woman I hurt because I was too afraid to admit we were already over. And for the first time, the truth is crueler than silence.
“I love her,” I say.
The words do something to me too. They crack my ribs open. Because once they’re out, I know. I’ve known for weeks. Maybe longer. Maybe from the moment Laurel stepped into my lab bossing me around.
I love her.
And I am standing in front of my wife while she has to hear it. The guilt of that should kill me. It doesn’t. That may be the worst part.
Jenna opens her eyes, and there is nothing left in them but hurt.
“Then we’re done.”
I nod once. Not because it doesn’t hurt. Because it’s true.
“I’ll call my attorney,” she says.
