Page 85 of The Wrong Husband

“By lying to me?” I asked, stopping to look at him. “How is that protecting us?”

"If you knew why I married you, you'd kick my ass out of your life."

"Look how well that’s working for me." I sounded like a complete bitch.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said placidly. "You kick me out, I'm just going to follow you around. I'll sit outside your door. Actually, my whole family will."

His family had been great. They had apologized, certainly, but had not asked for forgiveness. Marcela had even said that what she had done was unforgiveable and hoped that I'd move past it.

"I still think your art is magic. Wouldn't have given you a job otherwise…though I did sabotage that for you."

"I don't understand you, Marcela. You kept saying I was unsuited to be an Archer."

"I'm pretty uncomplicated, Emilia. I love my family. I love my sons. My son loves you, ergo, you're suited to be an Archer. I thought he was in love with Bianca and your sister…I've known her for a long time and your mother who I thought was a friend and between them, they did a number on me about you."

Marcela had admitted that she never doubted Maeve because she couldn’t imagine a world where a mother would say something so disparaging about her own child without it being true. We continued our walk, crossing the Embarcadero and heading toward the Bay Bridge, its lights twinkling in the fog.

"I didn't expect to fall in love with you, but I did. With all of you. Your art. Your optimism. Your big heart. Your perfect pussy,” Damian explained.

"Then why didn't you tell me why you married me?" I felt so wretched.

He took my hand in his. "I was afraid to lose you."

"And now?"

"Shit scared that I have lost you."

"You have," I lied. He hadn't. He knew that. I knew that. His family knew that. Moana knew that. Liza knew that. Tech and Torture knew that. Hell, the drug dealers living upstairs who didn't know us very well knew that.

"Not happening, Em. I thought I loved Bianca but…when I found out she cheated on me, I got furious. Not hurt. I was angry. That was my first emotion. And then I decided to show her how it felt to be cheated on and calculated who would be the ideal candidate."

"You know she has friends. You could’ve fucked any of them and she'd have been just as pissed," I snarked.

He brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed it. "I wanted you. I don't know why; but it had to be you."

I wrenched my hand away from him. "Your whole family thought I was the wrong wife, the wrong sister."

"I was the wrong husband," he interjected. "Me. I fucked up. You're amazing, Em. I can't regret how we got together. I'm so fucking happy your sister cheated on me and I got so angry that I decided to fuck you."

"Why did you marry me? I understand the fucking part."

He stopped walking and turned to face me, his eyes filled with hope. "I've asked myself that and I did because…baby, I couldn't just have sex with you. I wanted you to be mine. Don't ask me why. I don't have clear answers. But I do know that in my gut, my heart, my dick, I knew that I had to marry you before I fucked you."

In his dick? The man had a way with words. I found it amusing and had to purse my lips so as to not smile.

We continued walking along the waterfront, the city’s skyline glowing softly in the distance. The sound of our footsteps echoed off the pavement, a rhythmic reminder of the distance between us.

"And now you love me?"

"Madly."

"Well, I don't love you." Liar, liar pants on fire!

"You can't live without me," he said arrogantly.

That got my back up. "Fuck you, Damian."

"With pleasure, darling."