Roommate Arrangement (Divorced Men's Club #1)(71)

So even though Kyle would have forced this at one point or another, I’m going there on my own terms. I’ve already been married to him for far too long and I don’t want it to last a minute longer than it needs to.

I follow the directions I’ve plugged into the GPS from the address he sent me this morning and find myself out the front of a pastel-colored town house. The street is lined with trees and has low wrought iron fences along the front of each of the houses.

Our apartment block was nice but impersonal. This is … well, it’s exactly what I wanted when I first moved here.

And now, looking at it, I’m relieved that it’s not what I want anymore.

My phone lights up, and I check the DMC chat to find they’ve written back to where I told them what I was doing today.





Orson: This is for the best, you can do it.

Art: Kick the fucker’s ass.

Griffin: If you feel stressed, just remember Beau and how good he is in bed. Feel free to pass on the details if you’ll need me to remind you …





Well, they’re being supportive in their own way, I guess.

I unclip my seat belt, grab the papers from the passenger seat, and steel myself to see him again. The last time I saw my husband in person, I’d kissed him goodbye as he left for work, and he told me he’d be home after his workout that afternoon. By the time he walked back in the door, I was probably getting shitfaced in Kilborough.





Nerves hit my gut as I cross the street, pass through the small gate, and take the stairs to the front stoop in one step.

In and then out.

I can do this.

And when I get back, I’ll have Beau there waiting for me.

The thought of Beau launches the nerves into butterflies, and the lightness helps me to lift my hand and knock.

There are quick footsteps on the other side, and just as I hear them reach the door, I brace myself, prepared for that familiar hit of nostalgia when I see his face. Or a surge of rage. Or the bottomless pit of betrayal.

But when the door opens and there’s Kyle looking exactly the same as he ever has, I feel … nothing.

Huh.

“Hello.” My voice comes out strong and impersonal. It takes me by surprise, but damn do I like it. I lift the papers I’m holding. “You wanted to see me?”

He steps aside. “Yeah, come in.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Payne …” Kyle widens his eyes. “Please. I want to talk.”

“Why? Are you planning to give me a step-by-step on how you cheated on me for years?”

He recoils like I hit him. “You’re angry, I get it—”

“I’m not. Being angry at you gives you a right to my feelings, and … I’ve decided you don’t have that right anymore.”

He reaches up to tuck his longish hair back and then tugs on the ends like he does when he’s nervous. It used to be enough to get me to back down from whatever fight we had. Now I can see it for the manipulation move it is. “Please come in. Just give me five minutes. Surely after twelve years together you can spare me that.”

“Actually, I don’t owe you a second of my time,” I say but step into the house. “You do owe me answers though, so let’s do it.”

I don’t wait for his reply as I make my way down the short hall into a living area. I’d say I have no idea how he afforded this place, but I’m not that naive.

I stand in the middle of the room as he perches in an armchair.

“You can sit.”

“I won’t be here long enough to get comfortable.” I drop the papers on the table and cross my arms. “You’re also signing those while I’m here.”

Kyle sighs and pulls the papers toward himself. “I guess you want to know why I did it.”

For the last few months, hell, even for the whole drive here, I’ve wanted the answer to that question. I wanted to know why. I couldn’t wrap my head around how he could betray me like that.

Now … holy shit. I don’t actually care. “Explain if you want to, but nothing you say will be a reasonable excuse.”

“I’m not trying to excuse my actions—”

“Of course you are. You want me here to hear you out so you can fool yourself into thinking you tried. But it’s too late for that. It’s too late for you to try and feel better about yourself. What you did was fucked-up, and there’s no way you didn’t know that the whole time it was going on.”

“Can you blame me?” He throws himself back in his chair, and while his tone sounds wrecked, the expression on his face doesn’t change. His skin is flawless and eerily still.

“I can.”

“You weren’t an easy man to be married to.”

I almost ask what the hell he means by that, but I’m not falling into that trap. “I’m sorry you thought so. It’s a good thing I brought papers that will make all of that go away.”

“Do you even care what I have to say? Don’t you care why our relationship was so terribly off track that I had to turn to other men?”

“Surely I made it clear since I arrived that I really, really don’t.”

“Right.” His eyes go shiny like he’s about to cry, and it kills me I can still know him so well, even when he deceived me for so long. “I made a mistake.”