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I sighed, my heart aching inside as I glanced around the sitting room, like a resolution to our argument may be there, before looking back at her. I knew she was hurt, but what man in his mid-forties didn’t have history with women?
“Jules, I don’t want to hurt—”
“Just fucking tell me,” she yelled, her face red, her eyes brimming with tears. My plea became stuck in my throat as frustration and fury roared through my veins.
“Yes! Yes, I fucked her… I told you this already. Happy now? Three times in total, if you need a number. Was it good? Mind-blowing, actually…” I shrugged, horrified by what I blurted out, and my eyes softened toward her, but I’d started and the pressure in my head made me purge the rest of my thoughts. “Was she better than you?” Her eyes flared in anger— hurt—objection, and I knew I’d hit another ace in her thoughts. “It was different… just sex, sweetheart,” I confirmed quietly, but not in so many words. “I never made love to her.” By the time I had spewed out the words, my chest heaved in and out in protest that I hadn’t taken a breath.
The instant I stopped talking, I heard the sound of blood as it rushed through my ears. In a rare drink-fueled moment, I had allowed my frustration to build with every word until my loose tongue had spouted harsh words I knew I could never take back.
Heaving another sigh, I stared into her wounded eyes and shrugged. “Why did I say all of that? Because I know you, sweetheart, and those were your next questions, right?” Inhaling deeply, I stopped talking. I’d said far too much and stood breathlessly staring down at her as she looked decimated in front of me.
Folding her leg under her ass, she slumped down onto the couch closest and covered her face with her hands. It only took one heartbeat to see how wounded she felt and my anger drained instantly, replaced by a wave of regret.
A dull ache formed, like a bruise in my chest when I thought she was crying until she shifted position, drew her legs from beneath her and hugged them, pulling her hands from her face. Eyeing me contemptuously, she scowled. When I made to move closer to comfort her, she flashed me a palm, halting my advance and frowned.
“Stay there. I don’t want you to touch me—”
“Jules, please—”
“No. If you respect me at all you’ll do as I ask. Please show me where I’m to sleep tonight, but it won’t be with you. Right now, I need time on my own to understand how I feel. One thing I do know is I don’t want you near me.”
“Fuck … please, sweetheart, don’t push me away,” I begged, taking another step forward. Immediately her hands flew up again.
“Stop it. You’ve had a lot to drink and I’m neither sober nor rational at this moment. Those are the only reasons I haven’t kneed you in the balls and left you to fend for yourself, after I saw her go after you. Am I sleeping here alone or calling a cab to take me back to the city?”
For a moment I considered pleading again, but when I saw her chin quiver and heard how she’d responded, I saw how furious she felt and her reaction was no more than I deserved. She needed space to think and that was the least I could do.
Considering she’d backed me into a corner, I had no choice but to concede to her demands and step back. Nodding I accepted her rejection temporarily as punishment for how I’d reacted to Tricia.
“I’ll show you to the bedroom, but please promise me we’ll talk this through.”
“No promises, James. Broken promises are the worst kind. I’ll see how I feel tomorrow.”
Leading her down the hallway, I opened the guest room door I had always used, and she stepped in past me, and within seconds I found myself staring at the closed door from the hallway with Juliette locked inside.
For a few minutes I stood outside deliberating whether to press the point with her, and to try to make her understand, but I didn’t know how to do that when I couldn’t understand what had happened that day myself.
