I kept telling myself that he at least knew how to get home, despite being drunk, that he still remembered that I was his wife, and that maybe it had all been just a show tonight.
But another part of me knew better. Three hours after I left was plenty of time for him and that Dulce to do whatever they wanted.
My hand tightened around the thought of the twins inside me, conceived with so much trouble, and despite everything, my heart softened again.
By the time my taxi pulled up at the bar, only Howard and Ethan were left in the private room. Howard greeted me like nothing had happened. “Jillian, where have you been? Ethan’s been calling ‘wife’ in my ear so long I’ve got blisters!”
He said my name with oily smoothness, and I used to like hearing Ethan’s friends call me that. But now that tone felt like mockery.
While getting Ethan into the car, Howard didn’t miss a beat. “Jillian, make him a hangover soup when you get home. He worked so hard to land that client today!”