Page 123 of The Truth About Love

I started smoking the day I lost Summer-Raine.

Walking out of her apartment was the moment I stopped caring about myself. I don’t care about developing lung disease and dying. I couldn’t give a shit what happens to me now.

There is no life without her anyway.

I may as well be dead already.

“Smoking is bad for the baby, you know.” Cara grips her hips with her hands.

“Then stand further away.”

“You could at least pretend to care about him,” she whines. “He is your son, you know?”

I take a short puff of the cigarette before stubbing it out with my shoe. I don’t bother throwing the butt in the trash.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t fucking care about him, Cara.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

I start the walk back to the car without checking that she’s following.

A good man would offer his arm to support his pregnant wife. But I’m not a good man, not anymore. I’m barely a man at all.

I’m several strides ahead of her when I make it back to the black sportscar Cara bought on my credit card shortly after we got married. It’s ridiculous and completely unsuitable for driving a kid around in, but she throws a hissy fit every time I mention getting something else.

At this point, I might just sell it behind her back to piss her off.

That’s the type of guy I am now. Petty and cruel.

“You’re such an asshole, you know?” she moans, climbing into the passenger side and frowning at me across the centre console. “You never used to be like this.”

“People change.”

“It’s about her, isn’t it? That bitch is always getting in your head and ruining everything.”

My hands white-knuckle the steering wheel and my foot slams down on the break more violently than necessary as we hit a red light. “Don’t you ever talk about Summer-Raine like that.”

Cara rolls her eyes. “And what’s with her name anyway? Fucking stupidest name I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“I’m warning you, Cara,” I growl. “Cut it out.”

“God, you’re still hung up on her, aren’t you? Her pussy must be made of gold to have you simping after her like you do. I really don’t get it. She isn’t even that pretty.” She laughs to herself like a witch mixing spells in a cauldron. “She lost though, didn’t she? You might pine after her like a pathetic little puppy, but it’s me who gets to call you her husband. It’s me who won in the end.”

“Goddamn it, Cara. If that’s how you want to look at it, then sure, you fucking won. But remember that I’m only here because I knocked you up the one and only time I’ve fucked you since we got married. And I don’t even remember it.”

I slam on the breaks outside our apartment building, causing the cars in the traffic behind to beep their horns and yell profanities at me through their open windows. I ignore them all.

“Don’t be so caught up in your narcissism to believe that I’m here out of anything other than obligation. I’m trapped in a marriage with a woman I despise because I was stupid enough to get her pregnant,” I continue, my words heartless and cold. “But you don’t love me either, do you? You simply love the money I earned from the book I wrote about the woman you hate. Don’t you see the irony in that? But one day, when the money dries up and there’s nothing left, you’ll be just as damn miserable as I am. So, yeah, if you think that makes you a winner, then I suppose I should congratulate you.”

She blinks at me, her lips pursed and nostrils flaring.

“Get out the car,” I say, my voice flat. “I won’t be back tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

I wait until she’s inside the building before I pull away. I might be a cold bastard now, but I’m not totally devoid of morals. She’s still pregnant with my child. And for that, at least, I care about what happens to her.

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