The Butcher (Fifth Republic Series Book 1)

When I woke up, I was in his bed, but I couldn’t remember how I got there. The last memory I had was of us together on the couch, lying there as the fire burned low. He’d pulled a blanket over me that had been over the back of the couch to keep me warm.

He must have carried me to bed at some point.

The mattress was soft, the sheets were like silk, and it was warm. I reached for him beside me, but realized I was alone. The curtains were closed over the window, and when I glanced at the clock on his nightstand, I saw it was noon.

I lay there for a while because his bed was just so damn comfortable. I hoped I hadn’t overstayed my welcome by sleeping over. Maybe I should have just taken a taxi home. Didn’t want to put pressure on something that was supposed to be casual.

My phone was on the nightstand, so he must have put it there. When I checked my messages, I saw that some of my friends wanted to get together, no doubt to tell me that leaving Adrien was a big mistake. Even if he did cheat, his mistress was on the street and I was in the palace, so what did it matter?

It mattered to me.

I finally got up and peed in his bathroom, and when I stepped back into the bedroom, I saw that the curtains were open because he’d joined me. His back was to me from where he stood by the window, wearing workout shorts and sneakers, his entire back ripped and flexed from his workout. He turned to look at me, stopping to give me a once-over because I was still naked.

I stared at him just as hard because his skin was red and his muscles were plump, probably from lifting trucks and buildings. He had a shake in his hand, probably a recovery drink full of a shit-ton of protein. “Morning.”

“Morning.” He took another drink before he capped it and set it on the dresser. He walked over to me and bent his neck down to kiss me as he squeezed my lower back. “Breakfast will be here in a couple minutes. I’m gonna shower.”

“Breakfast?”

“Yeah. Hungry?”

“I mean…I’m always hungry for pancakes.”

He smirked before he walked into the bathroom. He showered, and I fixed myself up, washing away the smeared makeup that made me look like I had two black eyes. I didn’t want to wear my skirt and my skintight top during breakfast, so I took one of his shirts and put on the pair of socks he’d taken off the night before. They stretched all the way to my knees, black like the shirt that fit me like a loose blanket.

Gerard had set the table in the other room. It was overcast and a little windy, so we didn’t sit on the terrace. I took a seat before Bastien, who was putting on some clothes in his bedroom. I’d just poured myself a cup of coffee when my phone lit up with a text message from Adrien.

I need to speak with you.

Just seeing his name on the screen pissed me off. I was having a beautiful morning with a gorgeous man who gave out orgasms like candy on Halloween—and the last thing I wanted to do was think about the man who wasted my goddamn time. Fuck off.

Fleur, come on.

Go fuck yourself.

Would you rather me show up to your apartment?

We can speak in court when I divorce your ass.

“Everything okay?”

I nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. He’d taken the seat across from me without my noticing. He was bare-chested and in just his sweatpants, a fucking man treat, but I couldn’t enjoy it in my annoyance. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” I swiped down and turned on the Do Not Disturb feature because I did not want Adrien to disrupt this morning any further.

Bastien continued to stare at me like he didn’t believe any of that, especially since he’d watched me silence my phone, something he’d never seen me do before. But he grabbed the pot and filled his mug with hot coffee.

I felt compelled to answer the question truthfully, and I wasn’t sure why. “Adrien wants to speak to me. About what, I don’t fucking know, nor do I care. I’m filing those divorce papers, and if he gets the judge to deny it, I swear to god⁠—”

“He won’t deny it—not this time.” He drank from his mug, enjoying his coffee black while I flooded mine with cream, and then removed the silver dome over his breakfast, poached eggs with grilled mushrooms and spinach and bacon.

“Thanks.”

“He shouldn’t have blocked it in the first place. If a woman wants to leave, let her go.”

“So, if you were in this situation, you wouldn’t fight for her?”

He ate with his arms on the table, taking big bites with that big mouth. “If I fucked around on her, I wouldn’t deserve her anyway. The decent thing to do is let her go so she can find someone who can give her what I can’t. But this hypothetical question is stupid because I wouldn’t fuck around in the first place. Women are not as complicated as we make them out to be.”

“Have you been in a relationship before?” I really didn’t know much about him. The more time we spent together and the better I got to know him, the more I realized I didn’t know much at all.

“Not really.”

“Not really?”

“I’ve had a couple long-term flings, but that hardly qualifies as a relationship.”

“What constitutes long-term?”

“A week or so.” He continued to eat, scarfing down his food and dragging a piece of bread across his plate to get the last of the yolk that was left behind.

I’d been fucking him for a couple weeks. I wasn’t sure how much longer it would last, but I knew the fire would burn out at some point. He was a nice distraction—a really nice distraction. He made me feel good about myself, quieted the voice in my head, chased away the depression that made my bones brittle.

“What about you?”

I lifted the lid over my food and saw the treasure beneath, fluffy blueberry pancakes with bacon and poached eggs with a side of toast. When I cut my fork into the eggs, the yolk immediately began to run. “I was in my ho phase before I settled down with Adrien. Really enjoying my twenties…”

He smirked slightly as he ate, having no judgment at all. “I like that.”

“You like that I was a ho?”

“I like that you did what the fuck you wanted without giving a damn.”

I’d never heard a guy say that. Adrien was always uncomfortable with my body count.

“It’s why you fuck so good.”

“I fuck so good because you’re really hot.”

His smile widened, dimples forming in his cheeks, looking so handsome in the morning light. He relaxed in the chair and drank from his mug.

I drenched my pancakes in syrup and ate the fluffy goodness. In my apartment, I scavenged for whatever I could find in the cabinets and the fridge. I had no one there to whip me up a feast.

“I want to ask you something.” He turned serious, the smile from my compliment fading.

“Okay,” I said between bites.

“Am I revenge sex?”

“Revenge sex?” I asked.

“Are you fucking me to get back at Adrien?” he asked. “Your answer won’t bother me, I’m just curious.”

I hadn’t really thought of my actions too deeply. I was just moving through life, going from hit to hit, whatever kept out the sorrow. “No. When I saw you walk into the bar…” I didn’t even know how to describe it. “I thought you were the sexiest man I’d ever seen. Until that moment, I couldn’t even imagine being with anyone else, regardless of what Adrien did to me. But then I saw you…and I was lost.”

He had no reaction to that, just listening to me, his fingers around the handle of his mug as his arm rested on the table.

“But I won’t deny that I’m running from my misery, and fucking you is the best way to do that. You’re the best antidepressant I’ve ever taken.”

He watched me eat my food, crystal-blue eyes locked on my face as if transfixed. The stare lasted for seconds before he brought the mug to his lips and took a drink. Then a hint of a smile appeared there, subtle and handsome. “I’m glad to be of service, sweetheart.”

A few days passed before Adrien texted me again. Fleur, I really need to talk to you.

I ignored him.

I’m coming by.

What part of fuck off do you not understand?

Fleur, I wouldn’t bother you unless it was important.

Important to you…

Can I please come by?

You’d better be dying.

His dots came and went, starting and then disappearing before his answer hit the screen. I suspect I’ll be dead when the conversation is over.

That both intrigued me—and scared me.

My shift starts at 7, so you better get here before then.

I’ll be there soon.

I sat at the round dining table and tossed my phone onto the surface. My heart beat faster than it had a moment ago, full of adrenaline and dread. There was no escape from reality. The only time I felt a reprieve was when I was in the arms of a drop-dead gorgeous man with a magical dick. When I wasn’t with him, the world was in shades of gray. Everything felt mundane and mediocre…and sad. Whenever I was alone with my thoughts, I was suffocated by my loneliness. Adrien had two brothers and sisters-in-law and nieces and nephews and parents who thought the world of him—even when he’d cheated on me. My friends were his friends, and they wanted me to take him back. That way, they wouldn’t have to choose sides in the divorce. They didn’t actually give a damn about my pain.

I became so lost in my thoughts that I forgot about the sounds of the bustling city through the cracked window, the ambulance sirens when they passed down the road. I barely noticed the sound of the door when it opened down the hallway.

When I looked up, Adrien was there, dressed in his typical business attire as if he’d had a meeting right before this. He gave me a glance over with sad eyes, like a dog that knew he had done something wrong. He hesitated before he took a seat in the chair, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, his hands in his lap, looking anywhere but at me.

When a moment turned into two and then several, I broke the silence. “You came here to say something?” I found it ironic that I’d done nothing wrong, yet I was the one who’d lost everything. I lived in a shitty apartment alone while he kept the palace, his reputation, and everyone that mattered.

He released a quiet sigh as he continued to avoid my gaze. It took him a moment to look at me, his eyes overfull with pain. “You asked me if there had been anyone else…” His eyes faltered again, the fear making him lose his spine. “I lied.”

The adrenaline that spiked was hot, white-hot. When I thought I couldn’t be any angrier, I was proven wrong. My visceral instinct was to rip him apart with my words, but when I took a breath before I released the fire, I decided to let it go instead. Because it really didn’t matter. “How many were there?”

He was too much of a coward to look at me. “A couple instances…”

“Couple means two. You know that, right? So, was it two or more than two?”

He clenched his jaw like he wanted to grind his teeth into sand.

“You’re the one who decided to come clean, yet I’m pulling teeth.” If he didn’t want to talk about this, he could have kept it to himself. The divorce was happening, so there was no point in admitting all of his transgressions.

“There were about a dozen instances.”

I gave a slow nod, releasing a quiet chuckle because it was so ridiculous. “And I had no idea…” I gave another chuckle because I felt like an idiot. “If Cecilia hadn’t told me, I wonder if I ever would have found out. Maybe when I got an STI…”

Adrien turned quiet.

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

The pause was endless, his eyes scanning the kitchen behind me, just a counter with a stove and a microwave next to a dishwasher and laundry machine, all condensed into a tiny space. “I just thought you should know.”

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. “How many times did I ask if there was anyone else⁠—”

“I’m telling you now, Fleur. Leave it be.”

“Leave it be.” I shook my head. “So, were these relationships or…?”

“Not relationships. Just…hookups.”

“Were you ever happy with me, Adrien?” I’d never let him watch me cry, and I wouldn’t start now. But the tears started all the way down in my chest. I’d never felt so worthless.

“Of course I was,” he said. “When I say they didn’t mean anything to me, I’m telling you the truth.”

“Then our sex was bad.”

“That’s not true either.”

“Then it doesn’t make sense, Adrien,” I snapped. “Make it make sense.”

“Beautiful women came on to me…and I struggled to say no. That’s all there is to it.” He gave a slight shake of his head.

“You do realize they only want to fuck you for your money, right?”

He released a heavy sigh.

“So this was all about ego? A pretty girl pumped you up, so you pumped into her?”

He wouldn’t look at me.

“All those years I’ll never get back…” He was threatened by my body count, but he’d exceeded that number during our marriage alone. There had been a moment, however brief it was, when I’d actually considered taking him back. But that was one woman, one time, a mistake. This was just objectively disrespectful. At least now, I didn’t have to wonder if the marriage was salvageable. “Thanks for telling me…I guess.”

He sat there and basked in the glow of his shame. He let the silence pass and intensify the pain that throbbed between us. “I know this is hard to believe, but my transgressions had nothing to do with my love for you. I regret all of it, regret it with all my heart. If I could take it all back, I would, because losing you has been the single most painful event of my life. I hate knowing you’re here alone…while I sleep in the bed I used to share with you. There’s been no one else since you’ve been gone, and I’ll put my hand to the bible and swear to that.”

I stared at the empty vase on my table, sculpted into a woman’s derriere. I hadn’t had time to put flowers in it.

“There are no more secrets. That’s the whole truth. And I know it’s crazy for me to even ask, but I would love another chance⁠—”

A sarcastic chuckle escaped my lips as I rolled my eyes.

He hesitated, his eyes shifting to me. “I told you the truth, Fleur. You don’t know how hard that was.”

“Not nearly as hard as hearing it, I can tell you that much.”

“I give you my word it won’t happen again.”

“Your word doesn’t mean shit, Adrien. You promised to be faithful to me for the rest of our lives, and you shit all over that.” Blue eyes popped into my mind, as they often did. A sexy stranger who occupied my nights and chased away my loneliness. He said he was a man of his word, and maybe I was an idiot for believing another man, but I believed him.

“I made a mistake⁠—”

“Fuck up once, it’s a mistake. Fuck up twice, it’s a habit. Fuck up three times, and it’s your character. You’re a cheater, Adrien—that’s who you are. You’ll cheat on your next wife. And the next one…”

He succumbed to the silence, his head bowed like a dog that had received a smack on the nose.

“Cecilia saved me.” I felt so much gratitude for the woman who’d fucked my husband. Whatever her intentions were, to drive me out of the house so she could take my place, I didn’t really care. She’d told me the truth—and spared me. If I hadn’t discovered this until a decade into the future, my youth would be gone, and I would have already had children with the man I now hated. “Saved my fucking ass.”

Now that I knew the full truth, I didn’t have to look back and wonder what I could have done differently. I didn’t have to wonder if the marriage was worth saving, if perhaps I needed to grant mercy rather than rage.

But I also had to start over—to grieve all over again.

Paris was the most beautiful city in the world, but I didn’t appreciate the flowers that grew on the balconies, the smell of fresh baguettes from the boulangeries, hot espresso on a cold morning, the beautiful people who met at outside cafés for a smoke and a drink. A part of me died when my marriage died.

And I wouldn’t get her back.

Bastien texted me. I’m in the neighborhood.

I was so miserable I didn’t even want to talk to my antidepressant. I want to be alone right now. He was always honest with me, straight to the point, so I decided to be the same back to him. If it were someone else, I wouldn’t have bothered to text back, but I felt an inexplicable obligation toward him.

He didn’t fire off questions or send me words of comfort. Didn’t offer to come by or buy me a drink. He just let me be. You know how to find me, sweetheart.

Days passed. I went to work, came home, slept twelve hours a day because I had no ambition to be awake. Bastien didn’t come by the bar or text me, so when I asked to be alone, he respected that request.

A part of me was afraid he thought I was giving him the brush-off, that he would find someone else whose company he preferred more than mine, and when I texted him again, he wouldn’t text me back.

I still wasn’t in the mood for companionship, but I didn’t want to lose the one good thing I had in my life. I’m sorry I was harsh before. It was three in the afternoon. I didn’t know what he would be doing at that time, if he was still asleep or if he was out and about. The first time we’d slept together, he’d left early in the morning because he had a meeting. I wasn’t sure what his schedule was like.

But his three dots were immediate—as always. You weren’t.

It was so easy to talk to him, strangely so. When I met Adrien, we were swept up in passion and laughter, and the whirlwind never stopped. I’d only known him for a year before we were married. With Bastien, the passion was tenfold, but the rest of the time, it was calm…and easy. Not that I should compare the two because I’d had a relationship with Adrien, and with Bastien, it was…something casual. Just didn’t want you to think I was blowing you off.

I’m too hot to blow off.

I wasn’t sure if he was being playful or not, but I smiled anyway, hearing his voice in my head and picturing that handsome smirk. Very true.

Hungry, sweetheart? I could go for a steak.

I hadn’t eaten much the last few days, but talking to him had revved up my appetite out of nowhere. Yeah, that sounds good.

I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

I quickly changed and put on makeup for the first time in days. I hadn’t even worn it to the bar, and it had impacted my tips. No one wanted a depressed bartender who barely had the energy to get out of bed to show up for work.

I stepped outside in my coat, and at that moment, a blacked-out SUV pulled up on the one-way street outside the café. It came to a stop, and Bastien stepped out and opened the door for me, wearing dark jeans and a long-sleeved gray shirt, and the color really brought out the blue of his eyes. His towering height was more apparent against the vehicle because he stood taller than the roof. And his handsomeness was apparent too when he smiled like that, like I was the only person he wanted to see.

He stepped aside so I could move across to the other seat, and I felt his big palm give my ass a playful spank before he sat in the chair beside me and closed the door. The car took off before our safety belts were fastened.

He didn’t make conversation, sat there with his elbow propped on the armrest, his fingers gently grazing the little bones in his jawline. When he felt my stare, he turned to meet my look. “Sweetheart?”

No man I’d been with had ever called me that before. Adrien never gave me a pet name. I imagined Bastien called a lot of women by the endearment, that it was a word he threw out to everyone, but I still felt warm when he called me that. “I forgot how hot you are.”

His smirk widened, the smile reaching his pretty eyes. “Then you need to take a picture so you don’t forget next time.”

Traffic in Paris was the worst in the mornings and early afternoon when everyone got off work. It was so bad that it was better to walk or bike, which was what most people did. But even now in the evening, the roads were congested. The restaurant was only a few miles away, but it still took twenty minutes to get there.

The driver pulled up to Le Relais de l’Entrecote, and Bastien got out first before he helped me out of the SUV. There was a line of fifteen people standing outside waiting for a table, but Bastien walked through the double doors and straight to the hostess desk. He had a quick conversation with the woman in the black dress, saying something about someone named Luca, and then we were taken right to a table…and we got a lot of dirty looks.

We were given a table by the window, and Bastien pulled the table out so I could squeeze into the seat against the wall before he put the table back in place and sat down. It was a famous restaurant in Paris that served only one thing—steak and fries. You could order as many servings as you wanted, and waitresses in maid outfits came by and refilled the plates with a new piece of meat smothered in a sauce along with a new batch of fries. I’d been there once before, a couple years ago.

The waitress asked how we liked our steaks prepared before she fetched our drinks. Bastien ordered a stiff drink, as always, and I stuck to a glass of wine. Our food came as quick as our drinks, and the waitress piled our plates with meat and fries with a spoonful of gravy before she walked away.

Bastien cut into his meat and devoured his food like he hadn’t eaten that day.

“Did you have a reservation?”

“No.” He answered between bites, having manners despite his caveman attitude.

“Then how did you get a table so easily?”

“A friend of mine owns this place.”

“Nice. I need to make better friends…like ones that work at Versace and Saint Laurent.”

He gave a quick smile before he continued to eat.

I cut into my meat and felt my stomach clench because I was starving, the hunger pangs having been silenced by my broken heart for the last couple of days. I dipped my fries into the gravy, small and crispy, and then took another bite of my meat.

Bastien scarfed down his plate quickly, and the next time the waitress came by, she refilled his plate with another serving. It was like a buffet, except you didn’t have to get up and grab food from a communal table.

“Did you skip lunch today?”

“No,” he said. “Just hungry.”

I finished my plate and considered another serving, but I knew I didn’t need it. In a couple minutes, I would feel satiated. I wasn’t packed with pounds of muscle like Bastien, so I couldn’t eat all I wanted, even with the weight I’d lost over the past week.

He finished his second serving—and then ordered a third.

I shouldn’t be aroused by a man’s appetite, but there was something about his that got me going. The fact that he needed to eat thousands of calories a day because he had that much muscle to maintain, because he was strong enough to pick up a table and chuck it across the room like it weighed nothing.

I drank my wine, watched the cars pass on the road outside the window and tried not to stare at him too much because it felt rude. But he didn’t seem to care that he was the only one eating. Didn’t seem to care about anyone’s opinion of anything, frankly.

I liked that about him.

He finished his plate then took a drink from his glass.

“Gonna go for a fourth?”

He smirked at my taunt. “I’ve had enough.”

The waitress took our plates then left the dessert menu behind, which he didn’t look at.

“I think your friend lost money tonight.” He seemed to understand I was just teasing him rather than actually insulting him, so I continued with it.

He smiled even wider. “Good. He’s an asshole.”

“Your friend is an asshole?”

“They’re all assholes.”

“You know what they say, if everyone is an asshole, then you’re probably the asshole.”

“Oh, I’m definitely an asshole,” he said. “But they’re assholes too.” He drank from his glass again, the ice cubes tilting with the angle of the glass. When it was empty, he returned it to the table and ordered another.

I was surprised he didn’t ask how I was doing, why I’d gone dark for nearly a week, but that was something I liked about him. He never applied pressure to delicate matters. For a man, he had incredible intuition. For a man who could lift a car, he was awfully gentle when he needed to be. “How have you been?”

“Busy.”

“With work?”

“I don’t care for politics—but if you don’t care for politics, you’ll be governed by your inferiors.”

“Are you involved in the day-to-day aspects of the Senate?”

“Sometimes. But right now, my time has been focused on finding someone who’s always one step ahead of me.”

“And who’s that?”

“I told you trafficking is a problem, particularly in Paris.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“There’s this asshole who has a whole enterprise centered around it.”

“Then shouldn’t he be easy to find?” I asked.

“No one wants to stick out their neck and snitch, which I get. If they snitch on him, then they can’t be trusted not to snitch on others. And not to mention, they’ll be hung and gutted for the transgression. He’s managed to shut up an entire city, and he knows me well enough to avoid a confrontation.”

“How does he know you well if you’re enemies?”

His fingers rested on the top of his glass, and he gave it a quick shake before he took a drink. “It’s a long story.” Something in his tone suggested it was a story I would never hear, but he was nice enough not to ignore me or shut down the question entirely.

I hadn’t known him very long, but I respected him like hell, respected him too much to pry. “Are you going to get a dessert?”

His mood was still slightly sour. “Sweets aren’t my thing.”

“Do you mind if I get something?”

A slow smile melted over his mouth, something about me getting something sweet bringing affection to his eyes. “Not at all, sweetheart.” He placed the communal menu in front of me. “What are you thinking?”

I looked down at the list. “I love chocolate cake, but I’ve got a weak spot for profiteroles.”

“Know how that goes…”

When the waitress came over, I ordered the pastry with a cup of coffee. “Thanks for letting me get something.”

“I’m glad to see you eat.”

“What does that mean?”

Instead of backpedaling or dropping his gaze, he kept his confidence. “You’re a little thinner than the last time I saw you.”

“You can tell?”

With his elbows on the table and his hands together, he looked at me head on. “I know your body. Know it very well.” His eyes were so blue even in the dimly lit room, a man all the more handsome in his potent confidence.

The waitress interrupted the standoff when she brought the profiteroles and the coffee. Steam rose from the mug, and the plate was warm from the chocolate sauce they seemed to have just taken off the stove.

I sliced my fork into the layers of flaky dough then took a bite, all the flavors like a tide of warmth over my tongue.

He watched me eat the dessert, his eyes fully absorbed. “What do you think?”

“It’s fucking good.”

He smirked slightly before he drank from his glass again. “Women and their desserts…”

“Like men and their steaks.”

He smiled again. “Touché.”

I ate the entire plate of profiteroles and scraped up the little pieces left behind because my stomach had had an awakening. It was the first time I’d left the house for pleasure rather than for work. It was nice to do something other than mope. “Remember when I told you Adrien wanted to talk to me?”

He didn’t answer or nod, just gave that hard stare.

I took that as a yes.

“Well, I found out what he wanted to tell me…that it was more than the one time.” I’d kept this inside for almost a week, letting it rot my organs and bones until I was completely empty. “That there were at least a dozen different women. How I didn’t get an STI, I’ll never know.”

He had no reaction to that, like he had suspected that all along or didn’t want to fuel my raging fire with more fuel.

“I’m such a fool. I’m certain his older brother knew because they’re close. I’m sure his best friend knew. I’m sure other people knew too, and they just didn’t want to tell me. So there I was, walking around like a fucking idiot, oblivious to all of this.”

“You aren’t an idiot, sweetheart,” he said gently. “We never suspect the people we trust. He’s the fool for throwing away a damn good woman. I promise you he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.”

“He does seem apologetic—or I’m an idiot for believing his remorse.”

“I have no doubt he regrets it,” he said seriously. “And especially regrets getting caught.”

I stirred my coffee because the cream had settled at the top. “He said he wanted to tell me the truth and, since he was honest with me when he didn’t need to be, asked if there was a chance we could⁠—”

An uncontrollable laugh escaped his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest.

My eyes shifted back and forth between his as I tried to understand what had just happened. “What?”

His laughs subsided, and he shook his head. “Nothing.”

“What am I missing here?”

“Nothing,” he repeated.

“Then you think my misery is funny?” I snapped.

“Not at all.” He turned serious again. “I just think he’s full of shit.”

I continued to look at him, and for the first time, I felt deceit from him. Like there was something I was missing, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It wasn’t a good feeling, and I didn’t want to feel that way again. “I don’t like this feeling.”

“What feeling?”

“Like I’m the butt of a joke.”

The seriousness in his eyes started to soften in remorse. “Sweetheart⁠—”

“I would offer to pay for my meal, but now I need to storm out, so thanks for dinner.” I shifted to the very edge of the table so I could squeeze through the tiny space between the window and the table.

He moved the table against the glass and cut off my escape. “Stop.” He didn’t raise his voice, not in the crowded restaurant where everyone was still oblivious to the rising conflict.

“I want to leave.” I shifted the other way so I could squeeze between our table and the one next to us.

“I said, stop.”

“Don’t tell me to stop. Now, let me go.”

He stared me down across the table before he shifted it over and let me pass.

I squeezed by, the occupants at the table beside us quiet when they felt our hostility. I walked out of the restaurant, my eyes on the ground, my face hot from the rage. It was too far to walk to my apartment, but I was broke, so I would have to use money I didn’t have to waste to get out of there.

I made it outside, and the chilly air splashed onto my face like cold water. There wasn’t a line of people anymore because it was almost midnight. I felt a little better when I was in the open air, when I wasn’t across from the man who’d laughed at my stupidity, and I headed down the street in the direction of my apartment.

“Sweetheart.”

I hadn’t even heard him behind me, which seemed impossible when he was the size of a bear. I carried on like I didn’t hear him, walking past the cars parked at the curb, the sidewalk empty of pedestrians.

“I’m talking to you.”

“And I’m ignoring you.”

He grabbed me by the arm and forced me to face him, using an amount of power that reminded me how small I was—and how strong he was. “You are not the butt of a joke.” His hand went into my hair, and he fisted it like a leash. “Ever.”

I was paralyzed by those blue eyes for a moment, how hard and sincere they were. But then I snapped back to my anger. “You said you’re an honest man, but then you sit there and laugh at me. You tell me it’s nothing when I know it’s not nothing, and you try to make me feel stupid⁠—”

“I made him tell you.”

I stilled when the revelation hit me right in the face. My eyes flicked back and forth between his as the embarrassment made my knees weak.

“I shouldn’t have laughed—but I wasn’t laughing at you. I just can’t believe a man can be so dishonorable and cowardly. He told a lie so ridiculous I didn’t know what else to do but laugh.”

Still in shock at what he had said, all I could do was stare, my hair still in his closed fist, his arm around the small of my back like the bars of a cage.

“I will never lie to you.” His grip loosened on my hair when he realized I wasn’t going to run. “I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise.” He cupped my face, his thumb on my cheek, caressing me like the first flower of spring.

“How—how long have you known?” I felt embarrassed that the man I was fucking knew more about my husband’s infidelities than I did.

He continued to look me in the eye. “Awhile.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it should come from him. Because he should look you in the eye—like a fucking man—and tell you what he did. Because it’s a punishment for the crime that he committed, to feel like an asshole when he tells you what a piece of shit he is.”

“How did you convince him to do it?”

“Convince isn’t the word I would use.” His eyes hardened as he looked at me, a hint of what he’d done to my ex-husband. “You deserved to know the truth. You deserved to know that you were never the problem. You deserved closure.” He moved his hand back into my hair and gently pulled it from my face so he could see all of me. His arm tightened around me, and he pulled me closer into him, letting my cheek rest against his chest as he held me on the sidewalk, like he knew I needed a moment without his piercing stare.

He stood there for a long time, holding me in the light of the lamppost, the street quiet because we were the only ones there. His body produced enough heat to keep me warm even though it was a cold night, a perfect evening for a fire in a hearth. “Come home with me.” He didn’t state it like a question, but it still felt like one.

I pulled my face from his chest to meet his look. I felt like I’d been ripped to pieces by a pack of dogs, my heart on one side of the street and the rest of my entrails on the other. Someone I’d promised to love forever had done this to me, had hurt me, had humiliated me, and then he’d had the nerve to look me in the eye—and lie all over again.

But whenever I looked at those perfect blue eyes, I felt a calm river, an everlasting peace, a passion that muted all my other emotions. I felt more trust in a stranger than I did my own husband. I felt safe with someone I barely knew. I got swept up in his current and let it take me far out to sea. “Okay.”