Page 46 of Reformation

Annika is at the bar, which we can see from our table through a clear partition. I know I only saw her once at the luncheon, but I recognize her profile instantly. She’s blatantly hanging on a man, her fake breasts are pressed so hard into him that I’m surprised they aren’t deflating.

By the way he’s looking at her, he doesn’t care. In fact, I’m pretty sure he likes it, considering he just accepted a kiss from her that was not appropriate for public viewing.

I turn to look back at Garrett, Mark, and Charlie and their faces are a mixture of anger, sadness, confusion, and a general sense of…

“What in the actual fuck?” Mark says the words I was thinking. “That fucking asshole!”

“Is that… is that Trevor?” Charlie asks.

Trevor. Isn’t Trevor his…

“Yup,” Garrett says, a harshness to his voice I’ve never heard. “That’s my business partner. Kissing my soon-to-be ex-wife.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Garrett

I don’t remember leaving the restaurant.

I don’t remember dropping Paige off at her house.

I don’t remember pulling into the office of Innovative.

Pure adrenaline is guiding me at this point. Ever since I saw Trevor and Annika together, all I could see was red. Lucky for me, Mark was smart enough to get me out of there before I could do anything stupid. I don’t even think they saw us.

My anger isn’t at her. Well, mostly. I knew if she hadn’t moved on before I asked her for the separation, it wouldn’t take her long to find someone else to sink her fake nails into. So seeing her with another man did not surprise me.

No, this feeling of anger is aimed at Trevor. The man was supposed to be my best friend. My business partner. The guy who helped me when I was at my lowest. The man who took me to the hospital so I didn’t die.

When did this start? I really, really want to believe that he and Annika didn’t start whatever they have going on until after the separation. Not that it makes it any better. How could a man start fucking his best friend’s wife before their marriage is even technically over? Or ever? Though I have a sinking feeling this goes back to way before I told Trevor that Annika and I were getting a divorce.

Which is why I’m at the office, booting up his computer, thanking the IT gods that I requested having an admin password to get into any computer in the system.

Trevor and I both have them. When we started the practice, it was a way to make sure that we could get into each other’s computer if we needed to help each other in terms of paperwork, charts, or anything else that could happen when you’re getting a business off the ground. I never thought I’d have to use it to find out how long my supposed best friend has been fucking my wife.

Ex-wife.

I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Receipts? Emails? Annika has an email address, but I never saw her check it. She only had it to sign up for online shopping sites. If someone couldn’t text her, then she couldn’t be bothered with communication.

Luckily, Trevor’s laptop is set up to receive his text messages.

I scroll through his texts and don’t see Annika’s name. But a name saved as “A” with a peach emoji does catch my eye. And like it happened yesterday, I remember a conversation I had with Trevor just a few months after I started dating Annika.

“Dude, your girl has a fucking amazing ass.”

“Don’t I know it. You should see it when I’m hitting it from behind.”

“Fuck. I gotta hand it to you. You win this round, bro.”

That was what Trevor said to me the night I introduced him to Annika. I never thought about that night, but now it’s coming back to me as if it happened an hour ago. I laughed at the time because Annika met us at a bar, and he drooled as he watched her walk to our table. He was pissed as hell when he found out she was off-limits. And the comments he made about her ass? It was par for the course for Trevor and me back then. I didn’t think anything of it.

Maybe I should have.

Over the years I thought he got over his attraction, especially after he was the one who said Ishouldn’tmarry Annika.

Fuck, has it been going on that long?

I read the text messages and scroll to the bottom, hoping there is a date stamp. I choose to scroll over the pictures that even without looking, I can tell are pictures of his dick and her tits.

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