This excerpt is from All For Love. (Some people call it an anti-romance romance.) In this excerpt, Liz and Quinn have split up due to his infidelity. He was supposed to pick up their daughter, Ashley, for the first time, for a daddy day, but he never showed. This scene shows Liz arriving at his new "love nest" to put an end to the nonsense.
Liz is the first person narrator:
For
a moment, my nerve faltered—he’d literally told me he didn’t want me anymore—but
then my stubborn streak took over: this was my
husband, the father of our little
Ashley—and I wasn’t giving in without a fight.
Besides, he looked good. So damn
good that I didn’t even wait for an invitation, I simply stepped past him and
strode into the sparsely furnished love nest.
My
nerve faltered again when I spied a pair of dainty gold bangles like twin
circles of moisture on the cheap coffee table.
I wondered who had had bought them for her. But I regained my courage when I recalled the
look on her face when I’d announced to the world (at the grocery store where she worked) that she was sleeping with my
husband.
Perhaps
it was the lack of undergarments that made me so bold, or perhaps it was my
long weekend in Cancun with Josè. Just
knowing someone else found me attractive was emboldening. I picked up the bracelets and slipped them on
my wrist, turning them this way and that, admiring them in the late afternoon
light stippling the wall opposite the window.
Mine now, I thought, finders keepers. So I sat on the edge of the tatty-looking sofa
and pushed the pilfered bracelets up my arm, almost to my elbow.
“You
happy now?” I asked, a cold smile on my face.
I crossed my legs and admired my new heels.
Quinn
did not sit down. Nor did he answer my
question. He rubbed his hand across his
forehead and into his rough hair. “You
got a date?”
I
laughed. It was a real, surprised, belly
laughed. Of all the things I thought he
might say—get out of here, put down her bracelets, get lost—that question
wasn’t even a blip on the radar screen.
“What
was your first clue?” My voice squeaked
only a bit. I thought I saw his lips
tighten; or it could have been wishful thinking. I was winging it, playing it by ear. If he had remembered to come and pick up
Ashley like he should have, she might have told him about our weekend in
Cancun, but I didn't think he knew a thing about it. Apparently, out of sight, out of mind was his
new mantra.
I
smoothed the hem of my jeans over the arch of my foot. The heels added a couple inches of length to
my just-average legs.
“Where’s
Ash?” He finally asked.
I
debated telling him it was none of his business since he hadn’t bothered to
even call her, but I opted to continue the lie instead. “We’re picking her up at Ronnie’s after
dinner. There’s a new Disney movie she’s
dying to see.” I stood up to go. I wanted to tell him she was home thinking
about suicide, begging to go back to Cancun because she couldn’t stand life in
the house that used to be our home. But
I didn’t want him back under those conditions.
I didn’t want his pity. I knew
that would make things even worse. “I
just came by to give you this ... ” I held out his Master Card. “It’s way too tempting to ruin your credit
the way you’re ruining our lives.”
Pushing
past him, I dropped the card on the floor.
“Besides, I’ve got perfect credit under my maiden name.” The funny thing was, I really did. I’d finally managed to pay off our honeymoon
debt (just in time for him to take a lover), and it was like a little scarf of
independence I wrapped around my neck when things got cold or iffy.
Did
he groan as I brushed against him to get to the door? Maybe it was my imagination, but the next
thing I knew, his hand was on my arm and he was turning me into the planes of
his chest and it was as if everything
was new again, but tarnished, dirty.
Maybe the tawdriness of it made me want him more; or perhaps it was
desperation. It was sort of an all or
nothing gambit. I took the lead and I
didn’t care if he was satisfied or not.
I did what I wanted and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that a lot of my
desire was fueled by pure white-hot rage.
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