Page 35 of Mad Love

“Last night—”

“Shouldn’t have happened,” she says.

Did she pick up on my wariness? I wouldn’t put it past her. Underneath the air of iciness is a perceptive woman. I didn’t miss how keenly she observed the guests at her grandfather’s party.

“If it were a different woman in the pool, you would have come on to her too. Said and did to her what you did to me. It won’t happen again.”

I should say something, but Blaise is right. For the rest of our time together, we eat in silence. The air is thick with hurt and confusion. I let her work through her emotions without reassurance from me that I like making her feel good and that she makes me feel good too.

Jesus, I’m a complete dick, and not giving her the reassurance she needs cements into my mind the reason I’m poor husband material and further convinces me that love is for people with better hearts than mine. I have no heart. Otherwise, I wouldn’t hurt a gentle soul like Blaise, if she is one.

The more I think through the quick nuptials, the less I’m convinced her intentions were good.

“Is there a reason I had to hear of your grandfather’s death from the news media rather than at our meeting, darling?”

She lifts her head from the focus she has on her soup. Blaise has barely touched her soup, and apparently, my wife doesn’t eat meat. The only plate of roast she dished up is for me.

“You said time was of the essence and that you’re in danger. Explain yourself, darling. Otherwise, I will go to my attorneys and find a way to annul this marriage on grounds of deceit and withholding information.”

She rises from her seat and takes her bowl to the sink. Behind me, the water runs. There is the distinct sound of my dishwasher opening and closing.

Blaise walks over, and facing me, she undoes the ties on her apron. She takes off the apron, pulls her royal-blue satin dress over her head, and lets it fall to her feet. No panties. No bra. Smooth, pale skin. Puckered nipples. Shaved mound. I flick my eyes to her face. Defiance in the slight tip of her chin.

“Do what you must, Maddox. I’m going for a swim. Have a good night.”

With her head held high and her shoulders pulled back, she walks away from me. Blaise Stassi is a regal queen on the outside. Inside, she’s hurting. I watch her naked form disappear around the corner and don’t hear the splash of water. Like how she is hurting, she slips into the pool in silence.

I grit my teeth. Shit, I’m a cold bastard. Blaise cooked me dinner and I repaid her kindness with doubt. Needing a drink and a warm body, I put my dishes away, grab my jacket, and head out to a nightclub where the ladies know me well.

Explain yourself, darling.

Do what you must, Maddox.

If she won’t explain herself, then I’ll do what I must. The best way to forget a woman is to get another woman under me. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

There are no shortages of women. Blaise is but a small fish in the big sea.

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