I raise my voice, incredulous. “Worse than pretending like you loved me for four years?”
He blows out a breath and checks over his shoulder, seeing if my loud response has attracted any attention. “I wasn’t pretending. I loved y—I love you. I just don’t think we’re meant for each other. Avery, I never wanted to hurt you.” He actually looks sincere, which makes this entire conversation ten times worse. “But I’d rather waste four years of your life than leave a marriage. I…um…I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“It’s my birthday.” I let out a bizarre, raspy chuckle. “You chose to do this on my birthday?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head adamantly. “I didn’t choose anything… I had every intention of proposing tonight. I really did. I just saw that ring on your finger and I couldn’t deny the truth anymore.” He holds up his hands, showing me his palms across the table. “I’m so sorry. I hate myself for this. I wish I could just change how I feel.”
Taking in a deep breath, I stare right at the shriveled-looking man across the table, who not five minutes ago looked like the man of my dreams.
“Please,” he says.
“Please what?” I hiss as the dull background noise of the restaurant resumes. The earth slowly but surely begins to rotate again as my racing heartbeat calms.
He clasps his hands together like he’s praying desperately. “Can we talk about this at home? We don’t have to do anything right away. We have a two-bedroom apartment. We can take some space…figure out the business. This can all be amicable.”
I glare at him. “You want this to be amicable?” My words are cool, but there’s fire in my eyes, and he’s about to burn.
“Or I can stay at a friend’s house for a while and give you your space until we figure out the next steps. However you want to handle this, Avery…I want to be supportive.”
“A friend’s house?” I laugh. “You condescending piece of shit.” Why do I have a sneaking suspicion I know exactly what friend he’d like to stay with. “You did cheat on me, didn’t you?”
He shakes his head. “No, I said I wanted to, but I would never. I respect you too much.”
“Seriously? That’s your grand gesture?” I widen my eyes. “Well, thank you for only wanting to cheat on me. Congratulations on your self-restraint.”
He looks left and right, clearly uncomfortable having this conversation in public, but my limbs still aren’t working and I’m glued to this chair, so I’ll have to wait out the shock here a bit longer.
I’ll admit, our sex life has been lackluster. I thought it was a mixture of the honeymoon phase ending, the stress of our business, and the aftermath of getting really comfortable with someone. I thought his lack of sex drive was odd, but I didn’t realize it wasn’t the drive that was the problem…it was apparently the vehicle.
“Whatever you need to say…say it. I deserve it.” He stupidly holds his hand out.
I’m not touching that.
“I’m sorry. And I’ll say it a thousand times again. I really wanted this to end up differently.”
Is he tearing up?
My head is spinning. He’s trying to be apologetic, but everything he says slices me in a new spot. He is implying I’m big, but it’s funny—at the moment, I’ve never felt smaller in my life. So small in fact, I could slip right through the wooden floorboards of this luxury steakhouse, never to be seen again.
I yank again on the ring on my finger. It still won’t budge, but at least my limbs seem operable again. “It’s fucking stuck,” I mumble.
“Keep it,” he says quickly.
“What?” I screw up my face.
His brows are furrowed in anguish. “I don’t…know how else to apologize.”
I don’t even recognize him. How quickly a man can go from the love of your life to a complete stranger.
He actually looks relieved as I push away my plate of chocolate cake crumbles and scoot out my chair. I don’t exactly have a plan, but I collect my clutch and rise. When I walked in tonight, I felt like a goddamn piece. A knockout. A total ten. I’m leaving in ugly, fat humiliation…alone. How could this man’s perception of me so quickly change my own view of myself?
I pause by Mason and watch his face shrivel up in concern when he realizes I’m leaving without him.
“Are you going to call for a ride home?” he asks, looking me up and down.
“What home?” I whisper. I clear my throat and enunciate. “We no longer have a home.”
He catches my hand as I try to pass him. “Aver—”
I rip out of his grip. His hands feel cold and clammy, and I don’t want them anywhere near me. “Don’t you dare follow me.”
I flee to the restaurant entrance, maneuvering between handsomely dressed waiters carrying large trays of fancy dishes. I dart past our waitress on the way out and force a small smile as I say thank you and good evening. She’ll clue in once she sees Mason alone at the table, waiting for the bill.
I burst through the glass doors and into the crisp night air feeling like a free bird with clipped wings. I laugh to myself as I think about how abruptly the sky fell on such a pleasant evening. I never saw it coming. I didn’t suspect a damn thing.
Golden birthday…golden year…
My ass.
2
Finn
“Mrs. Mattley,” I call out from across the room, “can you arch your back and stick your butt out a little more, or will that be bothersome for your arthritis?”
My assistant, Lennox, blinks at me as I lower my Canon, peeling my eyes away from the LCD screen. I roll my eyes at her. “Yeah, I heard it,” I mutter under my breath.
“Weird sentence, man. Just weird.” Lennox lets out a breathy chuckle.
There is a seventy-year-old woman kneeling next to a large wooden-framed bed, trying her best to squeeze her breasts together and form some semblance of cleavage. I groan.
This isn’t working.
“She looks so uncomfortable,” Lennox says as she bumps her elbow against mine. “I feel bad for her. We need to start putting an age cap on these photo shoots.”
“Hush. She’s elderly, not deaf,” I say in a low tone. “This is really fucking brave of her. Be supportive and hope you’re this cool when you’re in your seventies.” I shoot her a warning look. “Go get me the really big red pillows from the main living room.”
Lennox stalls, her brows furrowing. She staged this set meticulously, down to the antique jewelry box sitting on the mirrored dresser. She even sanded and stained the wooden saloon doors because they weren’t the exact right shade for the photo shoot.
This set is the only reason my business is somewhat afloat. Not every woman wants their boudoir photographer to be male, which I understand. I really think I’m the best in the business. I know how to make a woman feel comfortable, respected, and championed, but they have to take a chance and actually hire me to understand that. But the Western set Lennox designed sways enough business our way. We have a lot riding on the fact that apparently every woman wants to be photographed as a sexy cowgirl.