Chapter 65

MAY.

“May, I’m confused as hell. So, you found out your husband is THE Chase Anderson. I understand you’re mad about the lies but…May! You’re married to Chase Anderson. They say he’s richer than the American gods! Everyone wants to either have him or be him, and you have him!”

Stuffing my clothes into my bag, I stare at the phone, teary-eyed. “Well, why don’t you have him?”

Ginny leans back in her chair and rubs a hand down her face. She looks like she just tumbled out of bed. My fault since it’s night over there, but I just needed to talk to someone. Maybe I should have called Anna because Ginny is making me feel like I’m overreacting.

“You know I didn’t mean that, May,” she mutters.

“Do you have any idea how stupid and betrayed I feel? Do you know what it means to look someone you claim to care about in the eye and lie to them, over and over again? That’s serial killer behavior right there. I feel like a complete idiot—and you know how much I hate lies. Hell, I took him to the market—” I grunt, tossing the hotel’s towel across the room. “—and he’d looked so out of place, and I’d made him price down the groceries and eat the food there—” I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “—I thought it was weird that he kept picking at it, but I gave excuses for him, Ginny. I asked him so many questions, and all his answers were lies. How can a relationship be built with lies? What else did a lie about? What if he has a family somewhere else, and I’m just—”

“May!” Ginny yells, and I look at the phone screen startled. She gives me a pointed look, and my gaze flicks to my fingers and the cotton I have pulled out of the pillow without even noticing. “Calm the hell down. You’re scaring me. Drop the pillow and fucking breathe.”

I drop the pillow, and sit on the ground, hugging my knees to my chest, abandoning the phone altogether as I sob. I hate not knowing. I hate that I had to hear it from someone else. I hate the guilt I saw in his eyes. I hate that he kept me in the dark for so long. I hate that the one person I gave my trust without hesitating or holding back has completely trashed it.

Ginny stays on the phone for a while, not particularly saying anything, and that’s fine. She knows me. I just need to not be alone right now.

Movement in the corner catches my eye and I tilt my head left. There are shadows moving underneath my door, and a heartbeat later, I hear a soft knock and a muffled plea. “May, please let me in.”

I ignore him, thinking hard. I feel equal parts lost and sad. Where to go next. What to do next. I just need some time to myself. Away from Ethan, and the place I’d truly believed to be my home. Sucking in a deep breath, I straighten and grab my phone off the bedstand. “I’ll see you later, Ginny.”

“Wait—”

I hang up and settle on the edge of the bed, locking my ankles together. I wipe the snot off my nose with my sleeve, and open up my phone, navigating to my Google. My heart aches as more pictures of Ethan pull up on my screen. I scroll up, torturing myself by looking at each of them, trying to relearn him.

But there’s no reconciling the two lives he’s lived in my head. My fingers halt at one picture in particular. There are flowers, and there’s a woman by a car. Then there’s Ethan, to whom she’s handing the flowers. Balloons adorn the red convertible behind her, and letters are boldly printed on them: 'I love you, Ethan.'

I recognize the blonde with the bouquet. Ashley. Of course it had to be her. The woman who threw in my face that she knew my husband way more than I ever could. I wonder what else she knows. What he looks like without his clothes on? What sounds he makes when he’s aroused?

Another photo, and I become livid. He’s at an event, a ton of women flocking around him. I’m in the picture, standing off to the corner and talking to Ginny and her cousin. Ethan had been there. I knew someone had been watching me, and had a feeling at that event, but I’d gotten distracted. He had been there, had seen me, and he had lied to me when I returned home drunk.

Anger becomes resolve, and I empty out my bag, taking only the things that belong to me. My passport—because I need it to travel, and my horrible looking pajamas. I sling the bag over my neck and head out the door, leaving behind all of the expensive things Ethan’s bought for me. All the things he deceived me into putting on.

He’s on his feet when I open the door, his hair untidy like he’s been running his fingers through it all evening. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

He grabs my arm. “No, you’re not. Let’s talk about it, May. Everything. I’ll tell you everything.”

I rip my hand from his grasp, walking past him. “Why? So you can brainwash me and make a fool out of me? There’s no need to save face. It’s not like the world even knows you’re a married man. I won’t be tied or traced back to you if you’re so ashamed of me. You’ve already done a pretty good job in keeping me hidden—”

My breath catches when grabs me and yanks me into him, fingers digging into my arms. “Ashamed? I could never, May.”

“So, why?! You really looked at me, heard me tell my story to you, and thought, oh, she’s here because she wants my money? You’re the one who sprang a proposal on me! You’re the one who kept offering me things I never even asked for, or wanted! How could you lie to me like that? And Ashley? She’s just an acquaintance? I had no fucking idea that acquaintances could publicly display affection. Balloons, flowers, what else does she give you?”

A single tear slides down my cheek, and Ethan’s eyes catch it. He moves in faster than I can follow, and his lips press against my wet cheek, the contact sending shivers down my spine. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and turns his head slightly, so that his breath fans my lips. “Let me fix this. Allow me.”

I shiver, hating the heat that pools in my core at the feel of his lips so close to mine, and before I can become butter in his hands, I pull back, looking deeply into his eyes. “I can’t…deal. Not right now. I’m going home.”

“The flight—”

“Money makes the world move, and you’ve got loads of it. Get me a flight home. Right now. Alone. Don’t follow me.”

He doesn’t. He lets me leave, and barely five minutes later, I get the time and location for the flight. I head down the lobby when a voice calls out to me. “Maisie!”

I freeze and look back. Ashley’s mother jogs down, hurtling for me. When she reaches, she holds my arm panting. “Oh dear, I need to speak with you.”

Forcing a smile, I take her hand off my arm gently. “I’m afraid I cannot. I’m in a hurry.”

“It is a dire matter and—”

“I really can’t.” My voice is sharp, a snap at the restraint on my temper, and she blinks, blue eyes widening. She pulls back and I rush down the steps, eager to leave the hotel before I can return to Ethan and hear him out.

My feet are shy away from the last step when a limousine pulls up, the windows rolling down. “Signora Chase?” the man asks in a thick accent that lilts with the mention of my last name.

I nod, and he’s out of his car, running over to get the door open for me. “I am to bring you to the airport. Your husband, Signor Chase, hired me.”

Hysterical laughter leaves me, and I get in, smoothening my dress as he closes the door for me.

When we get to the airport, I’m ushered into a fucking private jet owned by yours truly. It even has his name on it. Chase-fucking-Force One.

I laugh for a long time, downing the expensive wine, until the bottle is empty, and then, I start to cry again.