Page 66 of It Hurts Me

It gave me a moment to compose myself, to accept the fact that I was in Bolton’s presence…and not Theo’s. I swore I could still smell Theo on me since my clothes had been at his place for almost three days. His scent was in my hair, on my skin. I wondered if Bolton could smell it too.

“How was the gallery?”

“Fine. How was…” How was killing someone? “How was work?”

“Fine.” He shut the fridge and looked at me head on for the first time. It was a long stare, not the intense one of longing he used to give me. This one felt perverse, like there was a secret behind my eyes that he wanted to dig for with a shovel. “What’s for dinner?”

“Citrus chicken and risotto,” I said automatically.

He nodded slowly but seemed disappointed, like he’d asked a different question that I hadn’t answered.

I waited for that hug, that embrace, but it never came. “Is something wrong?”

His stare continued with its sharp edges, plowing deep into my earth to prepare the soil for a new season.

I wasn’t sure why I asked the question because everything was wrong. Everything had been wrong for a while now. Ever since that horrible night when he’d punched the air right out of my lungs.

“No.” He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

All I could think about was the last woman he’d kissed…if it was someone new…another name to add to the list.

And Theo…the man I’d kissed goodbye before I went to work. He’d asked me to stay again, but I told him I couldn’t. He never showed his disappointment, but it was heavy in the air around him, the way an oven raised the temperature of the whole house by a few degrees.

“I need to finish some things in the study.” Bolton left the kitchen, left me to make dinner alone like the good little wife I was, and disappeared.

When he was gone, I stared at the fridge, thinking about all the things I did to make him happy. I went for a run every day to stay fit, I cooked all his favorite things, I wore the sluttiest lingerie to surprise him in the bedroom—but he still desired other women.

What could I have done differently? What could I have done better?

Nothing.

Fucking nothing.

He came down when dinner was ready, probably smelling the food once I pulled it out of the oven. I set the table with the dishes and flatware, along with an arrangement of flowers I’d put together myself. I didn’t expect a man to care about those things, but I hoped he would appreciate it.

It was becoming clear to me that Bolton didn’t appreciate anything.

Bolton took a few bites of his food. “Excellent, as always.”

“Thanks.” I pushed my food around more often than I actually ate it, thinking about my dinner with Theo one second and then thinking about this moment with Bolton the next. I lived two very different lives, and now the separation between them had become thinner than a sheet of paper.

Bolton lifted his chin and looked at me.

I concentrated on my food and waited for him to look away, but as the seconds passed and the heat of his stare felt like a laser on my face, I knew that look was here to stay. I scooped my fork into the risotto and took a bite before I met his stare.

The second he had my attention, he spoke. “The security system said no one came or went for two and a half days.” He spoke in a normal tone, but there was more to his statement, a veiled threat that was inaudible but ever-present.

My fork returned to the food, and I did my best to act normal even though I felt like a deer in the headlights. My heart raced like I should be running from a predator, except I shouldn’t feel threatened by the person who’d broken our marital vows first. I’d done nothing wrong, but I felt like a liar and a cheat.

He continued to stare like he’d asked a question.

I held my fork and focused on my food.

“Were you sick?” he asked.

I could just say yes and make this go away, but I didn’t like to lie. It came easily to others, but it was the most unnatural thing to me. “No. I went to work.”

“Then why did the system say the doors never opened?” He left his fork on his plate and leaned back against the chair, arms crossed over his chest, his head slightly cocked like he was a detective about to complete an interrogation.