The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(148)

You can't research them on the Internet. You can't interrogate them out of a close friend. And you certainly can't draw them out of a love song or a painting hanging in a museum.

And the reason you can't find these things through your normal sources of inspiration and enlightenment is because you don't know to look for them. Because you don't even know they exist until they walk through your door and sit down on your couch.

Jamie and I stared at each other for centuries. Our eyes spoke words to each other that our thirty-six years of combined education had never taught us how to say.

I didn't know who was supposed to speak first.

So I started. "It wasn't from the beginning," I said softly. It was the only thing I could say. The only thing I desperately wanted him to know. Because it was the truth. And I never expected the truth to be so hard to believe.

"I know," he replied. "Karen told me."

The sound of her name coming from his lips sent cold chills down my spine. I wanted to cover my ears with my hands and hum loudly until his lips had stopped moving.

"So it's true?" I asked, a part of me still wanting to believe that it was all just a big mistake. A terrifying nightmare. And that Jamie had arrived to wake me up and take me back to Paris.

He nodded solemnly. "But not in the way you think."

I looked at him, and without saying a word I offered him my undivided attention. I wanted to hear what he had to say. A few days ago I may not have been able to give him the same consideration. But now, after all that had happened, I was finally ready to hear it.

Jamie took a deep breath and launched into the story that I prayed would change my life. "We got married five years ago. It was good for the first three. Then things started to go downhill. We became distant from each other. We started to go to counseling, but it didn't seem to be working. I wanted to make things work. I thought that's what you were supposed to do. Fight for it. Sacrifice everything to save it. But I guess she didn't feel the same way, because about eight months ago she cheated on me with a guy from my work. And we separated shortly after.

"I filed for divorce, and it didn't take long for her lawyers to remind her that she would get nothing from me in the settlement except what the prenup had promised her. Which apparently wasn't enough, because she insisted her lawyers find a loophole."

"Infidelity," I said softly. Finishing the thought as if the answer had been inside me all along. The last puzzle piece, hiding behind the couch. Even though the picture had looked complete without it, it wasn't until you slid it into place that the entire image magically transformed before your very eyes.

"Exactly," Jamie said, bowing his head and rubbing his temples. "My lawyers made me aware of the loophole as well. Warned me not to engage in any sexual activity until the divorce was final. And it was supposed to be final months ago. But she kept dragging it out. Pushing back legal appointments, skipping settlement meetings. Anything to buy herself more time. I was sure the papers would have been signed before we went to Paris. But she pulled another one of her stunts at the last minute."

"And that's why you wouldn't have sex with me?"

"Believe me, it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do!"

I bit my lip and felt myself blush. "Really?"

"Look at you! You're irresistible! I thought about canceling the whole trip just so I wouldn't have to put myself through that kind of torture, but I wanted to go to Paris with you so badly that I thought it would be worth the sacrifice."

I giggled girlishly. "Thank you."

"I even thought about just forgetting all about her and making love to you, anyway. Let her have whatever she wanted. I didn't care, as long as I had you. But I knew I had come too far to give up at the last minute. And I knew that was exactly what she wanted me to do."

I nodded my understanding.

"And trust me," he continued, "I checked my messages every five minutes while we were there. Waiting for a call from my lawyers to tell me that they had the signed papers in hand so I could throw you down right then and there, in the middle of the French prison, and make love to you until those plastic guards threw us out."

I giggled again. "I wanted you, too. I wanted you so badly. I probably would have broken every rule in the book just to have been with you that night."

He smiled and reached out to touch my face. "God, I've missed you."

I lowered my head and fought back a small tear. "But why didn't you just tell me the truth from the beginning? So I wouldn't have had to find out that way."

Jamie gently touched my chin and lifted up my face. "Why didn't you?" he asked with a compassionate smile.

And there it was. The million-dollar answer to the million-dollar question. What constitutes cheating? The answer was, there is no one answer. There is no picture-perfect, clean, and simple solution wrapped up with a bow. There's only the answer that best fits the person asking the question. There's only the definition that makes someone feel loved, betrayed, guilty, innocent, deceitful, or deceived.

And Jamie and I had both felt every single one of them.

As hard as I'd tried to define it for the past two years, and probably even longer than that, the truth was infidelity wasn't black or white. It was a million shades of gray. And among those million varieties there was only one that filled the space between us now.