Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I see that now,” I said, panting. That was the second time he’d snuck up on me within the last twenty-four hours. “What are you doing? Why are you standing there?”
“I was checking on you,” he said, frowning a little.
I wiped my face some more, then sank deeper into the water to hide my chest and shoulders. All that was out was my damp head.
“Samira,” he called.
I avoided his eyes, focusing on the bubbles that weren’t as foamy as they were minutes ago. I wasn’t very good at confrontation either. I suppose I got that from my mother. Instead of finding my father and cursing him the fuck out, she stewed about it all over the house, bottled it up. She never gave him the raging words he deserved.
“I want us to talk about earlier,” said Roland.
“Okay.” I finally looked at him. His arms were folded, head angled.
“What was that about? You didn’t tell me your brother was visiting.”
“I didn’t think I had to.”
“I mean, no, you didn’t have to, but it would have been nice to know so I could’ve prepared, especially for that blow he gave me.”
I dropped my gaze. “I’m sorry about that. And for telling him to hurry.”
“Why, though?” he asked, taking a step forward. “I—I feel like I’ve been as open as I possibly can with you. I know I scared you last night and I sincerely apologize for that, but what other reason than that have I given you for you not to trust me?”
None. He’d given me none. It was just those damn journals. I saw her point of view and was viewing him through her lens, and I couldn’t help doing it. Yadira warned me not to believe everything I’d read, but I didn’t listen. Now I was torn.
“Samira.” I looked up and he was clearly at war with his words, his eyes glistening again. “I want you to trust me. I want you to believe me.”
“I do believe you.”
“So then why did you tell your brother to hurry here? What did he need to hurry for? That’s pretty urgent to send to someone who you know already doesn’t trust me being with you.”
I sat up and stood, the bubbles and water dripping off me, and reached for a towel on the rack. I stepped out of the tub and onto the dry mat, looking into my husband’s eyes.
“You want to know what this is about?” I asked.
“Yes! I’ve been wanting to know for days, Samira!”
“It’s about your relationship with her! It’s like you married me to try and save your own ass—to try and make the world forget about her death. It’s about me feeling used.”
“What? Are you serious?” He pressed his hands to his chest, stunned. “Samira, the last thing I ever wanted to do was get married again! But I fell for you! I fucking love you and I wanted you, and for once since Melanie died, I thought someone was finally seeing me for who I really am! Not like how the rest of the world had labeled me, but for me. The real me.”
I watched his hazel eyes, how they reddened, glistened. He blinked and the wetness was gone, but they were still red. I felt awful because in a way, just like Melanie, I was the one tearing my marriage apart. Sneaking around. Lying to him. Distrusting him. Fearing him. I was just like her, and that alone scared the hell out of me.
“I . . . I really don’t even know what to tell you, Samira. I don’t know what else to say about this. If you feel that way—like you can’t trust me or be with me—then we might as well cut this marriage off where it is, because I refuse to go through this again. I refuse to stay with someone who doesn’t love me.”
But I did love him, and I wanted to scream that truth, but I also didn’t want to look weak or pathetic in this moment. Not while I was naked and slippery and vulnerable. I hated this was happening too, but I didn’t know what the hell to believe anymore and I probably wasn’t going to know until I finished those journals.
He needed to know about Dylan, that was a fact, but I also needed to see if Melanie had ever brought her affair with Dylan up to him in the first place, before I dragged that to the table like a cat with a dead bird. Roland could have known about her having an affair, but it didn’t mean she’d told him who the affair was with. But if Roland did know about Dylan and Melanie, it was going to change the trajectory of everything.
When I didn’t say anything, Roland left the bathroom with his head down, and after I’d changed, I went to the bedroom, but he wasn’t there. I peered out in the hallway and one of the guest bedroom doors was halfway open, the light on.