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“You know exactly what I mean. Did you go to Vance Elliot’s arms while wearing my fucking ring, Ava?”
“I don’t remember marrying you, let alone anything that happened after, so how could I know?” I sound too defensive to my own ears and I hate it. I hate how guilt chips at my emotions and how utterly horrible I feel when faced with his anger.
“You told Bonneville you had a flashback in which you saw yourself kissing another man and asked her who it might be.”
My limbs shake as my lips part in complete bewilderment. Gemma is supposed to be the nice friend who’s never confrontational or a trouble-stirrer, but I should’ve known better. Her true colors have been showing ever since she set her greedy eyes on Eli.
In the beginning, I thought it was a harmless crush, even if it annoyed me. I told myself she thinks he’s hot like a million other girls do and stopped my mind from conjuring a plot to get rid of her like I did with his previous conquests at uni.
I’m paying for my kindness. I should’ve known a spoiled princess like her gets everything she wants. Her target is now my husband, and if it means she has to slander me and break my trust to get him, that’s exactly what she’ll do.
And just like that, my worst nightmare about Eli finding out has come true.
I clear my throat. “It…was nothing.”
“Don’t you dare lie to me.”
“It was a flashback, but you said the other flashback I had, about being tied up and being forced to consume pills, proved to be wrong.”
A muscle clenches in his jaw.
A violent blare goes off in my head.
“You lied,” I say instead of asking it as a question, because I’m sure he did.
He made me believe my memories were false.
“Why?” My voice carries in the silence like a ticking bomb. “Why did you lie to me?”
“Because you weren’t ready to find out that tying you up for hours on end and forcing you to undergo rehab was the only method to stop your alcoholism.”
I flinch, my head thudding against the door as if he slapped me. No. It wouldn’t have hurt this bad if he’d actually slapped me.
And it’s not only due to my forced rehab or that he, of all people, was the one who performed it.
No.
It’s the confirmation that I did, in fact, cheat on him.
All this time, part of me has felt guilty, but the other part has held on to the hope that it was a false memory like the one where I was tied up in bed.
But now that I know it’s absolute, my morals crush me. In reality, I shouldn’t be feeling this bad when I’m planning revenge for my broken heart, but I do.
My form of revenge should never include something as despicable as cheating.
It hurts me more than it does him. If I stooped that low, surely that’ll give him the green light to cheat as well.
There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to survive that.
“How many?” he asks in a voice tighter than my insides.
“How many what?”
“How many times did you offer what’s mine to another man?”
I shake my head.
“Answer the fucking question, Ava.”
