Chapter 25
Two days later, I'm no closer to confronting Hunter. Any time I think about it, my chest threatens to cave in on itself.
I've avoided him as much as possible, but it's difficult to do that when he's always here. It's been five days since he's been to Slate. I asked him why he hadn't gone to the club and he said he was taking some time off. I could tell there was more to it, but didn't ask him to elaborate. It's already hard enough being around him—seeing his gorgeous face, smelling his delicious scent, hearing his deep gravelly voice, feeling his hands on me—I don't want to encourage conversation.
During the day, I spend most of my time in my office. I told him that inspiration for my next story has hit, and I want to get it down while it's fresh in my head. He knows I'm lying. I see the frown lines between his eyes whenever he looks at me. He knows me better than anyone else. I don't understand why he doesn't call me out on my lie. Maybe he's afraid of what I'll say. Maybe he suspects I know his secret and doesn't want to deal with the fallout.
The nights are the worst. After the sun has gone down and Hunter and I are in bed. No matter how weak it makes me, I cling to him in the darkness of our room, pretending my heart isn't broken, and let him make love to me. I've loved Hunter for almost half my life. It's not an emotion I can simply turn off. He knows my body just as well as I know his. He knows exactly how to touch me, where to put his hands, how soft to kiss the sensitive spot on my neck, how gentle to slide his fingers down my side, the sexy words he whispers in my ear…
I soak up every single caress he gives and every word of love he speaks.
Afterwards, with his strong arms encircling me, my back pressed against his chest, and his heavy breathing in my ear, I let the tears flow. I soak my pillow with him none the wiser.
Hunter may suspect something is wrong, but he doesn't realize how wrong it is. For now, I prefer to keep it that way.
The time I've spent in my office the last two days hasn't been for nothing. I've used the time to type up all the feelings I've felt since discovering the panties. I have over five pages filled.
That's what I'm doing when I feel his presence enter the room. Stealing myself, I look across the room at the door. Hunter stands there, leaning against the door frame. His expression is intense, as if he's thinking about something important.
"I have to go to Slate to take care of something," he says, moving away from the door and walking toward me. He rounds my desk and slides a hand through my hair to the back of my head, gently pulling it back. "I'll be gone a couple of hours."
He's lying. As good as Hunter knows me, I know him just as well.
"Okay," I reply, trying hard not to reveal the boulder in my throat.
He's going to see her.
Scarlett.
He's leaving me to sleep with another woman. I recognize the look on his face. It's filled with guilt.
He bends over and gently presses his lips against mine. I close my eyes. Nausea rolls in my stomach, knowing he'll soon be using those same lips on her.
"I love you."
I don't know how I do it, but I manage to repeat his words without breaking down. "I love you."
His beautiful gaze, with a frown between them, lingers on me a moment longer before he turns and leaves the room.
My eyes sting and my throat convulses, threatening to drag me into a dark hole I'll never escape. I force myself out of my chair. I feel numb as I walk out of my office. I rush to grab my purse and keys as soon as the front door closes. I'm in such a hurry, I almost forget to disengage the alarm system. That would be just my luck. Getting caught by the alarm going off when I'm trying to be sneaky and follow my husband to his lover's house to confront them both.
After Hunter pulls out of the driveway, I rush to my car.
I must be stupid to do this. I'm asking for my heart to be shredded and handed to me on a platter by following him. I'm hoping against all hope that I'm wrong. That he really does have a legitimate excuse for having another woman's panties in his pocket.
If he heads to Slate as he said, I'll turn around and leave and wait for him to come home to ask about the panties. But if he goes somewhere else like I believe he is, then I need to see for myself. Maybe I'm a closeted masochist, wanting to feel the pain of seeing him with another woman. Maybe seeing it will turn that pain into anger, and I won't hurt anymore. If I see it first hand, there's no way he can explain it away.
I creep along behind Hunter's SUV, staying far enough back that he won't see me. My hands shake as I grip the steering wheel. When he makes a left at a green light instead of a right, my stomach drops. A right turn would have taken him to Slate.
I blink back tears and ignore the hollow sensation in my chest. After a few minutes, Hunter pulls up in front of a two-story home. I stop a few houses away and watch him as he gets out of the vehicle. He doesn't even look around as he walks out of view, heading into the house.
I bite the inside of my cheek until the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth. I take a deep breath of courage and let it go as I step out of my car. Besides Hunter's black SUV, there are no other vehicles in the driveway.
As I walk up the steps, my whole body shakes.
I'm a glutton for punishment as I go to the front door and check the doorknob, half hoping it won't turn, and I'll be forced to leave. I'm not sure whether luck is on my side or against me when it turns.
I stand there for a solid minute, the brass knob in my hand, but not pushing the door open.
Can I really do this? Do I really want to see the woman who may have broken up my marriage and stolen my husband? Do I want to witness Hunter touching someone other than me? To take the chance of walking in while they are in the middle of….
I close my eyes and shake my head. I have to do this. I need to. This is the only way I can be sure I'm getting the truth.
I cringe as I slowly open the door, thankful it doesn't make a sound. I close it just as quietly behind me and turn to face the room. It's not really a room, but a small entryway with a wall directly in front of me. I keep my steps silent when I round the wall and step into the living room. Surprise flickers through me when I notice the sparse furnishings. There is only one coffee table and one loveseat against one wall of the large room.
Leaving the room, I walk out through a double doorway. There's another hallway to the right, which appears to lead to the dining room and kitchen. On the left are stairs. My feet instinctively lead me to the stairs, knowing Hunter and Scarlett will be found on the second floor.
Halfway up the stairs, I force my legs to keep moving forward rather than running back out the front door. I don't want to be here. I want to rewind back to three days ago when I thought my life with Hunter was perfect.
No sound comes from the second floor, which I find intimidating and worrisome. As I reach the top of the stairs, I turn right, again, something compels me to go that way. There are no windows in the hall and the lights are off, so it's quite dark. At the end of the hall a door is cracked open, leaving a strip of light on the hardwood floor.
Despite not making a sound, I half expect Hunter to come barreling out of the room because my screams to leave seem so loud in my head.
Once I'm at the door, I peek through the crack, but all I see is a big bed. The light comes from a lamp on the nightstand. I fold my arms across my chest, my body tense, and my breathing becomes heavy with dreaded anticipation.
I wait and wait and wait. Waiting for Hunter to appear or for some woman to show herself. I feel like I stand there forever, and I wonder if maybe they're not up here afterall, but somewhere else in the house.
A tear slides down my cheek, followed closely by another. I let them fall. There's no way I can stop them now. Not when I'm about to catch my husband with another woman. I do keep my crying silent though.
"You can come in, Cat."
My teeth cut into my tongue as I hear Hunter's deep voice coming from the room. I barely feel the literal bite of pain.
He knows I'm here. But how? Did he see me following him? Was I louder than I thought as I walked through the house? And where's Scarlett? Did he force her to leave when he realized I had followed him?
Dropping my arms to my sides, I take a couple deep breaths before pushing open the door. My eyes immediately focus on Hunter, sitting by a window in a chair. His legs are spread casually as he reclines back, still wearing the same jeans and black Henley he wore when he left. His arms are on the arms of the chair, one hand holding a short glass with an inch of amber liquid.
He lifts the glass to his lips and drains the rest of his drink while his green eyes remain fixed on me.
As relaxed as he appears, I know from the guilty look in his eyes he's about to completely decimate my heart.