“Have you?” He glances to Jesse’s clothes again and chucks his nose with sniff. “You fucked him once, right?”
“Excuse me?”
His gaze swings back to mine, an amused smirk on his lips that I know is anything but. “You and Enders. One and done, yeah?”
“Lane…”
His brows lift as he chuckles. “No?” He picks up the souvenir again and gives it a toss into the air before catching it in a tight fist. “How many times are we talking? Ballpark.”
“Can we not do this? Please?” I push a hand back through my hair and move toward the window, only to have him side step into my path.
“How many times, Hayden?” he asks, glowering down at me, while anger rolls off of him as evidently as the alcohol seeping from his breath.
“It’s been five years,” I rasp.
“Yup,” he bites. “Five years you’ve been lying to me.”
“I haven’t—”
“Is that why you look at him like you do? Why you defend him? Because you two had a little something special going on?” He laughs again and raises his hand and the souvenir so quickly that I don’t have time to register what he’s doing until the globe shatters against the door behind me.
“Five fucking years, Hayden. Five fucking years you’ve played me like a goddamn fool. And now you want to do it in front of my family, too?”
I open my mouth to refute him, to tell him that what happened with me and Jesse has no bearing on our relationship, but he presses a firm finger to my lips.
“Save it,” he seethes. “It’d probably be a fucking lie, anyway.”
And then he stalks around me and steps over the broken glass like it’s not even there.
And I let him go.
Chapter 8
HAYDEN
Lane was gone by the time I gathered enough courage to rejoin the party. He must’ve left from the front door and called Logan for a ride, given the way he’d hurried out, too. This per Hannah, who’d apologized at least ten times for suggesting I talk to Lane before things got worse.
So much for that.
So much for the best birthday party ever, too. I’d rushed Jett through opening his gifts and I’d busied myself with cleaning up so I wouldn’t have to look anyone in the eye, knowing they were all dying to know what happened.
To say I avoided Jesse entirely would also be an understatement. Jett said goodbye on his own while I held back tears and tried to pretend that my world wasn’t crumbling down around me because, once upon a time, I’d cared for his father a little too much.
God, that sounds so ridiculous. I shouldn’t feel guilty about what happened with Jesse, because we did nothing wrong. No matter how hard Lane wants to make me feel like we did, we didn’t. Not a thing.
Should I have spelled out to him exactly how many nights Jesse and I spent together? Maybe. But it didn’t seem relevant and, if I’m honest, it didn’t feel right. It still doesn’t. The things Jesse and I did during those two weeks? That’s between us. Those are our memories.
I’ve never asked Lane for details about his affair and he’s never offered, either. Knowing it’s over is enough for me. It should be for Lane, too.
Yet, in my heart of hearts, I know that’s not what he was really asking. And I can’t blame him for being upset that I couldn’t give him the answer he wanted to hear.
He’s my fiancé. More than that, he’s been my friend and partner for each of the five years in question. I hate that he questions his place in my life.
Blowing out a breath, I gather my purse and head into the house with trembling hands and shaking knees. I know he’s home, because Logan texted after he dropped him off and thankfully his car is still in the driveway.
I find him in the kitchen, gulping down a bottle of water in front of the fridge. He’s freshly showered, in a T-shirt and sweatpants, and his laptop is open on the table. Trying to distract himself with work? I know that feeling well.
“Hey,” I offer quietly, unsure if he’ll even give me the time of day, considering his parting words.
Thankfully, he glances my way with clear eyes. “Hey. Where’s Jett?”
“I left him with my parents for the night.” Dropping my purse into a chair, I bend to undo the straps on my sandals. “I thought maybe we could talk.”
He merely recaps the water and watches me lose the shoes without a word.
“Unless you don’t want to.”
“Not sure I have much else to say.”
“Then I’ll talk.” I prop my hands on my hips and stare him down. I don’t want to do this any more than he does, but this isn’t one of those arguments we can simply sweep under the rug and forget about. And, frankly, I don’t want to.
“Two weeks,” I say quietly. “It was two weeks and he wasn’t some random guy I picked up at a bar.”
Lane’s jaw sets tight, and there’s a tension in his posture and the way he holds that bottle that makes me uneasy. What happened earlier with the globe… he’s never done that before. I’d like to think it was a onetime, heat of the moment reaction, but who knows. Especially when what I’m about to tell him is going to be difficult to hear.
I clear my throat and continue on. “I’ve known Jesse almost as long as I’ve known you. Technically, I knew of him before that, but we didn’t actually talk until the first summer you and I dated. We ran into each other at the lake. He seemed like a nice guy.”
Lane pulls in a slow breath, makes a visible attempt to relax, and tips his head toward the living room. I grab a bottle of water and follow.
“We bumped into each other a few more times over the next summer and, again, he seemed really sweet,” I add, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
“Sweet?” He raises an eyebrow and I nod.
“Especially about the fact I had a boyfriend.”
“You talked about me?”
“I made it clear I wasn’t available.”
“So, he was interested.”
I wet my lips and swallow. “Yeah.”
“And you?”
This is where things get tricky. “I was… intrigued.”
“Jesus fuck.” He drops his head against the back of the couch, closes his eyes, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is that all?”
“Yes,” I insist. “Lane, I was one-hundred percent committed to you.”
“Until you weren’t,” he counters, and I hold up a finger.
“No… until you weren’t.”
He stares up at the ceiling for several long beats, before shifting forward, his elbows on his knees. “You should have told me you knew him.”
“And you should have never cheated, but here we are.” I shake my head and almost laugh. “Look, I don’t want to make this about who did what first, but you hurt me, Lane. And when you did that, you lost the right to know who I spent my time with.”
“You came back to me, pregnant with his kid. A kid I’m now raising.”
I pull in a calming breath and count to five. When did his perspective on this become so skewed? “Actually, we started seeing each other again after things ended with Jesse. Framing it like I came crawling back because I had no other option isn’t fair and you know it.”