Torrid Affair(59)

“How’s your mom?” He asked as he sat on the couch.

I explained the hellish three days I had. “They’re waking her up today, so I should get to the hospital soon. When do you have to go back?”

“I’m here for you, Brie. As long as you need me, I’ll be here.”

I entwined my hand with his. “Thank you.” I swiped at a lone tear.

“Hey, did you hear?” A grin lit his face. “You’re going to be an aunt.”

“I can’t believe Del’s pregnant.” The thought of Delaney as a mother boggled me.

“I know. Nate will be a great father. He’s always wanted kids.”

The world stopped.

“Wait. What?”

“Yeah, Nate’s the dad. Crazy, right? Apparently, they got together one drunken night a few weeks back.”

Without a word, I stood from the couch, grabbed my cell phone and walked upstairs to my bedroom. Once my door was closed, I typed out one final text message to Nate.

Me: Pregnant? You got her pregnant?

Nate: I’m sorry.

Me: It’s not fair to ask, but please, Nate. Pick me. Don’t stay with her. She will never love you like I do. Come back to me.

Nate: I can’t.

His family had abandoned him. There was no way he would ever choose me. I’d never be good enough.

Me: Then forget me. Forget who I am. Forget everything we ever shared.

Nate: I’m sorry.

Me: Fuck. You.

With all my might, I tossed the phone across the room, breaking it into pieces. I’d never been good enough for the people in my life. I wasn’t good enough for my father. And I wasn’t good enough for Nate.

But Julian . . .

I was good enough for Julian.





Part II





Nobody likes change. Whoever said they looked forward to their life changing lied. But change is inevitable. I was ten years older; married. I moved on. But the moment my gaze landed on Nathaniel Wright, I was right back to where I had always been—hopelessly in love with him.





Chapter 22





Brielle


Exhausted from a twelve-hour drive, I parked my car across the street and considered Louisa's house. I’d been inside only once for Thanksgiving over ten years ago, and even though she was my mother-in-law, I’d never visited her.

It was now the home of Nathaniel and Delaney Wright. Two people who, at one point, were the closest friends I had. Two people I hadn’t seen in a decade. Two people I avoided.

After I discovered their joyous news and sent Nate my hateful text message, I rose from my bedroom floor and made my mother's health my sole priority. Julian was a man of his word. He stayed beside me the entire time and became the man I needed in my life. I owed him everything. And with Nate out of the picture, I learned to love him. We had a small City Hall wedding where I vowed to be his wife. We were happy for many years. But I refused to ever return to Charlotte. It was simple. I didn’t want to leave my mother. The stroke caused permanent damage to her speech and she was bound to a wheelchair. Julian never pushed the subject. We didn’t even come down when Delaney and Nate welcomed their baby boy.

The reality was I couldn't stomach seeing Nate again.

Deep down in my heart, I knew I still loved him.

I wasn’t the same person who left Charlotte. Instead, I learned to live on autopilot, taking one day at a time.

The Brielle that Nate knew ten years ago was completely different from the woman I was today. I was filled with hatred and resentment, and I blamed him for all of it. He never really loved me.

I loved Julian. And this was why I came all the way to a place I swore I’d never step in again.

Inhaling the dry air in my car, I turned the engine off and pushed my shoulders back before I opened the door. “This is for my marriage,” I whispered as I stepped out of the car.

I reminded myself why I was here. Once you’re in, you’re in. I was staying in my marriage because I made a vow. Julian had given me promises, a house, a life. He picked me up when I was down.

But the fear that he’d continue to physically and verbally abuse me was why I came here. I would get him the help he needed to change.

My flip-flops slapped my heels as I stepped along the stone path. The landscaping had changed, and the house had been painted a periwinkle blue. The new black shutters told me the renovations were recent. With a trembling hand, I pressed the doorbell.

Nauseated.

Scared.

Anxious.

I wanted to hide and throw up. My legs threatened to bolt for a split second, but the door opened and there was no escaping the man standing before me.

Nathaniel.

Nate.

He was ten years older and—fuck me—he was one gorgeous specimen. His hair was cut short, and the scruff around his rigid jawline made me weak. His T-shirt covered broad shoulders. Why in God’s name did I still love that man?