Page 81 of My Only

Harper’s text, looping in my mind like a song I didn’t want to hear.

“Saw this today and thought of you.”

God, I wished Harper had shown me the same fucking grace I gave to Hassani’s girlfriends back when I was just his friend.

She clearly didn’t see me as his wife, though. Just an obstacle. A footnote.

By the time I made it back to our table, Hassani spun in his chair, standing the second he saw me.

Always the gentleman.

If I hadn’t just read those texts, I would have been smiling for real.

“Everything all right?” he asked, taking my hand.

I nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m great.”

A lie.

Inside, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right to save my life.

Hassani stepped closer, pressing a warm kiss to my forehead before leading me back to my seat. He pulled out my chair, waited for me to settle before sliding it under the table.

So smooth. So effortless.

Like a man with nothing to hide.

So then… why hadn’t he told me that woman was texting him?

The question sat heavy in my chest.

Through the rest of dinner, it was there. Hovering.

Hassani did most of the talking, and I nodded in all the right places. Laughed where I was supposed to. Chimed in when necessary.

I put on my best act.

And it was pure torture.

But what was I supposed to say?

Hey baby… ummm… I checked your phone and saw Harper texting you at weird-ass hours… thoughts?

It sounded so childish. So petty.

So insecure.

So… I let it sit.

The war raged on in my head while we ate, while we drank, even while I picked at my favorite dessert and barely tasted a bite.

By the time we left the restaurant, heading to drop off Mrs. Franklin’s dessert before going home, I felt exhausted.

Outside, as we made our way to the car, Hassani took my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine.

“So, we cool again?” His smile was so bright. So damn genuine.

I looked over at him, wanting to feel the warmth of it. Wanting to let it all go.

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