Love Is Louder (36 page)

There’s always another side to a person, something hidden, something dark. I didn’t always open up to anyone about my relationships, so I can’t fault her for keeping this from me. Some things are meant to be dealt with alone, but I would be lying if I didn’t say this shocks me to my core.

I pull up in the driveway and drop my head in my hands and grind my teeth, fighting the urge to break something or to hurt somebody.

Keep it together.

I hop out of the truck and check the mailbox. I get the dreaded piece of mail, rip open the letter, and read through it. I don’t feel a damn thing. I can’t. Even after visiting with the lawyer and getting the fucking phone call from Cole, the situation with Lily truly hasn’t sunk in yet.

I smile and my ears perk up. All the damaging, violent thoughts disappear when I hear her tiny, sweet voice. I shove the letter into my pocket and lift my eyes to my niece who’s standing on the front porch holding her favorite doll.

“Yes, princess. I just had a bad day,” I say with a smile as I walk up the pathway.

“I can make it better.” She looks up at me with her sparkling blue eyes.

“You already have,” I say, scooping her little body into my arms and feeling my heart soar like a balloon. My life and all its problems seem to disappear with the sound of her voice and just knowing she is still here.

A rock solidifies in my gut with what has become of our marriage. Self-hate fills my mind, and I think about her and the shit I’ve done. I’m doing a stellar job at making a mockery of my marriage. Like a common thief, I stole Brie’s happiness without a second thought, leaving nothing behind but uncertainty.

Her expressive eyes are still beautiful, but they don’t sparkle like before, and I notice it. I caused it. I doused the flames in her eyes. She used to tell me I was her knight in shining armor; now I don’t know what I am to her. A man she lives with, not the same man that she married.

Cursing inwardly, I close my eyes and lean against the counter in the dark, hollow kitchen. It’s three in the morning as I pour my third glass of scotch. I can’t get back to sleep. New thoughts are distracting me. The case is taking a life of its own, and my life has become a field stuffed with land mines. I’m tiptoeing around my job, my mother, and my marriage. I’m lost, trapped in my head. Pondering, grasping for any good reason for why I’ve done what I’ve done.

What an asshole I am.

I should confess my stupid mistake.

How I was able to go through that party with Lisa there was a fucking Oscar-winning performance. How would it look if I didn’t invite her? Everyone in the office would wonder. Wouldn’t they, or is that my own paranoia? Thank God Lisa kept up the charade. I felt her fucking eyes on me all night. I don’t know how the hell I was able to do it myself. Having the woman in my house that I fucked only a few days ago meet my wife was like playing Russian roulette. I had to trust Lisa wouldn’t mouth a fucking word, and I hope that Brie would be…Brie. Accommodating. She loves me, and she knows what my career means to me, and the last thing she would do is make a spectacle. It’s just not who she is.

Can she see the change in me, like I see the transformation in her?

My actions have changed me, but the change I see in Brie is from the unnecessary hurt I’ve caused her. If she found out about my infidelity, it would destroy her. She’d leave me. I wouldn’t expect her to stay, but I would plead my case just like a defendant in court. Fight tooth and nail to get her back. If this is the case, why have I done what I’ve done to begin with? Self-preservation maybe? I don’t know. I fucking can’t come up with a damn good answer to the question.

What if the tables were turned and she cheated on me? What would I do? I can’t even fully form the thought without seeing a fucking blazing inferno in front of my eyes. I’d beat the living shit out of the guy she was with, but would I stay? Would I be able to look at my wife the same way again?

The idea of another man’s hands on my wife makes rage simmer in my veins. The idea of losing her is something I can’t comprehend.

I down the glass of scotch in my hand and pour my fourth glass ten minutes later as I pace back and forth in the living room with the idea of Brie with another man stampeding through my mind. In the silence, I think about the courage she has shown throughout our marriage. She has managed to hold on to her optimism, though it may be slight. She tries for both of us. When I falter, she remains stalwart. How can I not love her for that? For everything? And here I stand in our home after breaking one of our marriage vows, wanting to ask her for her forgiveness.

An internal battle sparks in my head as I debate whether or not to ‘fess up to the things that paint my soul with a brush of shame and self-loathing.

Can we work through something like this? Can I live everyday that I spend with her with my dirty secret?

Fuck. I can’t tell her. It would kill her.

“Shit, it’s going to be okay,” I mumble, putting down the glass and running my hands over my hair before picking it back up and finishing it off. “You’ve been through worse. Hell and fucking back. You...
we
can work through this. Somehow.”

Breathing deeply, I return upstairs to my wife and slip into bed beside her. I smell her skin and listen to her breathing, but I feel alone. I’ve learned a lot about love with Brie, and I’ve never felt what I feel for her for anyone else.

Meadow.

I broke her heart. I tried to walk away early on, but she told me she wanted me as a friend, and then the situation between us went too far. She knew, and she still took that risk, and so did I. I feel like a piece of shit for starting anything with her. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I wonder if she were still alive what life would be like for me now.

Brie knew about her, and when she confronted me, I lied. She trusted me. I don’t know how she feels now. I don’t even trust myself anymore. When you think you know a person inside and out and they do something that shakes the very foundation of your world, it leaves you scrambling, trying to figure out what you did to deserve it. That’s what telling Brie about my affair would do. She would blame herself. I wasn’t strong enough. My weakness would destroy her. It would destroy me. It would destroy us.

Her steady breath wraps around me as I band my arms around her and pull her closer to me. I run my fingers through her silken hair and place soft kisses on the crown of her head. I gaze at her peaceful face, tracing her full ruby lips with my finger. She tilts her head back, her breath soft on my cheek. I press my lips to hers gently, and she sighs, opening her lips urgently seeking mine. I relent because I need her more than ever. Selfish me.

“James,” she whimpers with a hint of a smile on her lips. “I love you.” My icy heart immediately sparks. Warmth spreads throughout my body from hearing her words and feeling her body flush with mine. A feeling as perfect as the sun kissing my skin.

“I love you, too, B.”

I suddenly ache to see her smile again, to hear her laugh, and to see the spark in her eye that was there the day we first met and the day we exchanged vows. I promised her everything four years ago. I promised myself that in the past few months, I have managed to push our young marriage to the brink of destruction.

Lying and now cheating. It’s all been unnecessary bullshit. These thoughts cross my mind all the time. I realize I’m trapped in my own hell and to say I’m going fucking crazy would be the understatement of the century. I glance over at the time, four fucking thirty. Fuck. This shit happens to me every night. I close my eyes and clench my jaw, silently hoping that sleep takes me under for once. Eventually, it comes with the one thought lingering in my mind.

What the fuck have I done?

I pull off my gray suit jacket and fold it over my arm as I cut across the street to the Starbucks before I head to the office. With the increased alcohol consumption and the lack of sleep over the last week, I’ve been making frequent trips here. I’ve been leaving the house much earlier to stay on top of my responsibilities in the office and because I’m not ready and don’t know how to face Brie without cracking the shell of the ugly deceitful pig I’ve become.

I’m hit by a blast of frosty air as I enter a welcome reprieve from the late July morning heat. I’m thankful there’s not a long line snaking around the cafe at eight in the morning, just the scruffy looking, tall barista behind the counter stocking cups and an attractive brunette pouring sugar into her coffee. As I approach the counter, I swallow silently and clear my throat when recognizing the female gracing my presence. I’d rather suffer through a mile-long line than cross paths with this woman, but if I don’t acknowledge her, she will go back to Brie and tell her I ignored her, and that would only cause alarm bells to sound.

“Ava?”

She whirls around, her hazel eyes flash with dark spears of apathy as she stirs her coffee. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt with a tight button-down short-sleeved top. Her brown hair is loose around her shoulders with her expertly applied, but minimal, makeup accentuating her classic European features.

Today Ava reminds me of a black widow ready to catch me in a web. A web of my own fucking lies. That’s my guilt talking. Guilt’s a hideous thing. I feel like the character in Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart.” My damn lie is going to fester inside me until I go mad and finally break my silence.

“James, how are you?” There’s no sincerity in her voice, nothing pleasant, like the sound of screeching tires. She lifts her cup, pauses, and looks closely at me, trying to figure me out before she takes a sip. She smiles tightly.

Brie, how much have you told her?

I understand having friends in which to confide, but how much of our dirty laundry has she shared?
Fuck!
I know she talks to Brie. I know without a doubt she knows all about our troubled marriage. She most likely knows my history with Mason, too, and that’s probably promoting her to act like a cold-hearted bitch to me right now.

And then there’s Mason. Now, he knows my business, sort of. At the bar, he thought I
w
as cheating, and now all the pieces have fallen into place for him. I did the deed now. Would he ever go to Brie? He wouldn’t. Would he? He barely knows her. Shit, but I recall how he looked at Brie. She’s stunning, smart, and kind. Who wouldn’t be drawn to her? It drives me nuts that he’s obviously attracted to my wife. It was as plain as the fucking nose on his face that I wouldn’t mind connecting my fist with.

“Good, and you?” I lift my eyes from her emotionless face to scan the drink menu behind the counter.

“Couldn’t be better.” She smirks as she puts the lid onto her coffee, shooting her gaze toward the exit and back to me. “You look like shit, James. Have you not been sleeping well?” She lifts a brow and adjusts the strap on her black leather duffel bag, surely full of all that non-important shit women carry around for no reason. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a pair of hair trimmers hiding in that enormous sack.

She used to cut my hair, but I stopped going to her after she botched it. On purpose no doubt. Losing James Fleming, the big-time DA, as a regular customer is insignificant to her. I’d rather take my chances at Supercuts than have her standing behind me with a pair of scissors.