He was smart, handsome, and confident.

All the girls were obsessed with him—every single one. If it weren’t for Mama pushing me into his arms when I was fifteen years old, I would’ve never had the nerve to talk to a boy like Finn on my own.

Back then, I never thought I was good enough for him.

I still didn’t.

Finn pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously irritated with me. “You don’t open up. All you ever do is act passive-aggressive.”

“Yes, well, all you ever do is cheat,” I barked back, the words rolling off my tongue as if I’d been waiting for the perfect moment to fire them off.

Oh, that stung him and seeing him stung only hurt me.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. I wasn’t a mean person—not in the least. I hadn’t known I had a mean bone in my body, truly. My parents raised my sister and me to be kind, considerate, and filled with compassion. If someone described me, they’d never even consider the word cruel, but then again, when one’s heart is breaking, sometimes things are said out of character.

An unnatural rigidness overtook his body. He took an unsteady step backward, and his eyes glassed over. Finn hated being reminded of his betrayal, and that was all I’d been doing for the past few months. Sometimes, I’d leave him voice messages when my anxiety was too high and ask him why he chose another woman. I’d ask him if she was better than me. I’d ask if her kisses ever tasted like mine.

That bothered him so much and might have been the final straw for him in deciding to leave me: my inability to let the other woman leave my mind.

My husband wasn’t a cheater except when it came to her.

Her.

I hated her even though I didn’t know who she was.

I hated her in a way I hadn’t known I could hate a stranger.

How dare she steal something from me that wasn’t hers to take? How dare she swallow my husband whole while I was still trying to breathe him in? How dare she break my heart and not even care about the shards of brokenness piercing through my soul?

“Is that really what you want to say? Do you really want that to be the last thing you say to me?” he asked, still reeling from my words.

Gosh, I hated his face because I still loved it.

So many emotions coursed through my veins—so much confusion, so much internal struggle, so much aching. I felt lonely before he even walked away. My mind formed thoughts that made no sense.

Stay. Go. Don’t leave me. Walk away. Love me. Let me go. Breathe life into me. Let me die.

Stay.

Go…

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. I knew he didn’t want to hear those words, but they were the only ones that came to my mind.

“Come on.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t…I…”

“Grace.” He stepped toward me, but I held my hand up, making him halt his movement. If he came any closer, I’d fall into his arms, and I was certain he’d drop me. He took a breath in through his mouth and whispered, “I made a mistake. She meant nothing to me.”

She.

“Say her name,” I demanded, knowing it was catty but not caring. I was tired of it. I was tired of Finn skirting around the subject of his infidelity. I hated how he pretended I was responsible for his mouth pressing against another woman’s lips, breasts, and hips…her neck, her stomach, her thighs…

Stop.

I hated my thoughts. I’d never imagined my brain could so clearly envision my husband’s mouth on another woman, but alas, the mind was a weapon of mass destruction.

“What?” he asked, playing dumb. Finn was a lot of things, but dumb wasn’t one of them. He knew exactly what I was asking.

“After all this time, you’ve never told me her name because if you did, that would make it real. That would make this final.”

His mouth hovered opened for a second as debate swirled in his mind, considering how real he needed this to be, how real he wanted it to become. Then he spoke. “I can’t do that.”

It was a whisper…his words, his guilt, his disgust.

“If you’ve ever loved me, you’ll tell me.”

“I…” He grimaced. “I can’t. I can’t do that, Grace. Besides, it’s over and done with anyway.”

“It’s no big deal. I don’t care at all, really. I just hope she was ugly,” I joked, but he missed what was happening inside my chest, the fire that was burning me from the inside out.

My heart…

How could the broken pieces keep on shattering?

I sniffled.

He sighed. “We should get going.”

“I’m just going to check the rooms one last time,” I told him.

He parted his lips to scold me, but he didn’t argue. He was tired of arguments, as was I. There came a point when words became exhausting because neither side was truly listening. “I’ll just meet you at the bank, all right?”