Page 94 of My Fiancé's Brother 2

“Oh fine. Well, I guess it’s okay then if I go out with Mark.”

He glowered. “That is not the same fucking thing.”

I crossed my arms, refusing to speak.

“Emily. I told you. I’m committed to you.”

I was starting to hate that fucking word. My husband was in Mexico with his ex-girlfriend, and they were about to tie one on together, but it was okay because he was fucking committed.

“She wants you back.”

“Why can’t you let this go? She has. I have.”

“She hasn’t let it go.”

“You need to move on.”

I shook my head. I was done with this conversation. “Have fun.”

“Emily.”

“I need to go.”

“You want to end this conversation like this?”

Tears threatened to overflow out of my eyes. “Yes.”

“Really!” He looked pissed.

“Have a good night.”

He stared at me. “You too.”

And then he was gone.

I cried. Long and hard after that conversation as I imagined Harper, with her tall and slender body at the bar with Jackson. Getting drunk. Laughing together. Meanwhile, I was getting bigger by the minute, living by myself on this fucking military base.

A strong, loving marriage would struggle under these circumstances. In the last four months of marriage, Jackson had been home less than two weeks. Our entire relationship was based on texts and Skype calls, but Harper was there, putting her arms around him.

I wokeup at 3 AM to my phone buzzing.

Jackson: Still pissed?

Me: How was your night drinking with Harper?

Jackson: I’m drunk

Me: Is there a point to you drunk texting me?

Jackson: You’re my wife

Me: Thank you for remembering that fact

Jackson: You drive me crazy

Me: So you tell me

Jackson: Stay away from Mark

---