Page 74 of The Logic of Loyalty

Why the hell did you fucking date Krista you dumb ass. I think I might hate you.

My fingers fly across the phone, typing out a message before I consider what to say.

Trevor

Who the fuck was dating

No.

Trevor

I would never

No.

Fuck. I didn’t ever consider Paige hating me. But why wouldn’t I consider it? This is exactly what Krista wanted when she made those comments at dinner—to hurt my wife.

But … I gave her the ammunition, didn’t I? Shame blankets me, a familiar sensation, and I find the words, only to royally fuck up what I’m trying to say. I send six more messages to try to fix my screwup, then try a Hail Mary and call her. I decide today is the day. In my voicemail, I’ll tell her everything I’ve kept to myself for years.

Until then, I’ll bury myself in work.

“Hey, Paige. What’s up?” Billy walks into the office, his phone in his hand, when my wife’s angel voice comes from the other side.

“I’m buying a car, and you need to tell me if it’s worth it.”

I open my mouth, and Billy makes a sharp, slashing movement with his hand and shakes his head. I shut my trap and lean back in my seat. “She’s my fucking wife,” I grumble, and he shoots me a glare.

“I’ll do that for you. Do you need me or Carter⁠—”

“I’d probably hit Carter.”

“Alright. Fair point. Do you want me to come out there?”

“No, I’d rather send you pictures. It’s actually in town. Mrs. Peterson has a great aunt who just went to assisted living.”

“She got more than one⁠—”

“Not the time, Billy,” I hiss at him, and he shoots me another warning look. I snap my mouth closed and glare.

“I’m not sure. I can ask?”

“No, no. It’s fine. Why don’t we do this? Tell me what to look for, and I’ll send you pictures. If you see anything sketchy, you’ll come here?”

“That’s a great idea.”

Billy drops the phone. “Can you shut up?”

I mouth “sorry,” but I’m not.

“That’s a good idea.” Jackass.

Paige hangs up and sends over fifty pictures, which Billy forwards to me. Together, we look over every inch of the photos, but it’s perfect. “I bet this thing smells brand new,” he mumbles, flipping to another immaculate photo.

“I would buy this in a heartbeat for that price.”

We—well, he—already gave her the thumbs up.

My wife hates me and goes to other men for help. This sucks.