George

“Was it a long-term thing?” Silas asked flatly. “Or once?”

“Once,” I said without hesitation. “It was only the one time.”

He drew his tongue across his lips. “When did it happen?”

“Toronto. So, at the conference.”

He relaxed minutely, as if I’d confirmed something he already knew. Whether that did much to earn me any credibility, I had no idea, but I’d take it.

“All right. Look.” I scratched the back of my neck. “This is going to start out sounding really bad. But hear me out. Please?”

His eyebrow flicked up. “Okay?”

I swallowed. “The truth is, I was bored. I felt like we were in a rut, and things were boring, and when I saw the chance for something new and exciting, I jumped on it.”

Silas lowered his chin a little. “Well, you’re right about it starting out sounding really bad.” He folded his hands on the table. “You definitely have me curious about how it’s going to get any better.”

“Because I realized too late—after the fact—that I wasn’t bored. We weren’t in a rut. We were…” Fuck. I was going to break down right here at the table, wasn’t I? I had to clear my throat a couple of times before I could speak again, and though it was a struggle, I forced myself to look him in the eyes. “We were happy.”

That made him jump, but his expression quickly darkened. “So you were bored with us being happy?”

“No,” I whispered shakily. “I… I guess I was missing the way things started out in the beginning. You know, when it’s new and exciting. And I thought that meant we were boring and in a rut, and maybe that meant we were wrong for each other, or…” I shook my head and exhaled. “I realized afterward that I was comfortable. I was happy. I had everything I could ever want in a relationship and a companion, and I… God, it’s so stupid looking back. What I should’ve been doing was finding ways for us to be exciting again, but I also should’ve seen that a long-term relationship isn’t supposed to be nonstop sparks and fireworks. It’s supposed to be comfortable and relaxed.”

Silas watched me with a mix of curiosity and hostility. “So, you want the boring rut back?”

“No.” I exhaled as some tears stung my eyes. “I want the contentment back.”

His lips parted.

“I knew as soon as it was over that I’d messed up bad,” I went on shakily. “And I won’t lie—for a hot minute, I thought about not telling you. Because I knew if I told you, I would hurt you. You didn’t deserve that. But you also didn’t deserve to be with someone who was lying to you. The only way forward was to tell you the truth and let you decide where we went from there. And I knew what that meant. That we’d be over.” I took a deep swallow of water to at least try to move the lump in my throat. “I don’t know if it means a damn thing, but if I could’ve gone back and undone what I did, I would’ve in a heartbeat.”

Silas seemed to chew on all that, staring into his drink for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was flat. “The night you came home from Toronto—you weren’t really too tired for sex, were you?”

I blinked. “What?”

“The night you came home from Toronto.” Silas looked in my eyes. “You said you were too tired.” He swallowed. “Was that a lie?”

Flicking my gaze away from his, I nodded. “I wanted you so bad that night. So damn bad. Both because I’d been away from you, and because I knew I was about to lose you forever. But after what I did in Toronto…” My throat was getting tight again, and it was a struggle to even breathe, never mind speak.

“Was that when you decided you were going to tell me?” He tilted his head. “You said you thought about it for a hot minute, but was that when you made the decision?”

I exhaled. “No.”

“When did you decide?”

“Baggage claim,” I whispered.

“Baggage claim?”

I nodded, and my voice barely held as I said, “While I was waiting for you, that was when I debated not saying anything. I panicked, and… Anyway. As soon as I saw you, I knew I had to come clean.”

“But you weren’t going to before that.” The words came out icy.

“I thought about that, yeah.” I swallowed hard and forced myself to regain eye contact. “I knew I’d fucked up. And I knew it was a red line for you. So I… I mean, I was trying to do damage control, I guess. I couldn’t undo it, but if I didn’t tell you, then…” I closed my eyes as acid churned in my stomach. It had all made sense in the moment—in the panicked morning after—but it sounded so stupid and pathetic now. Because it was stupid and pathetic. Still, I went on, “I was never going to see him again, and I was sure as hell never going to cheat again, so as long as I didn’t tell you…”

“Then we could keep going like nothing ever happened.” I couldn’t tell if his words were laced with more hurt or sarcasm.

Opening my eyes again, I half-shrugged. “I guess? It sounds as stupid to me as it does to you. Which was why I only thought about it for a little while. I knew I’d fucked up, and I was trying to course correct. I was also trying like hell not to hurt you.”

“Which didn’t stop you from cheating.” Definitely more sarcasm that time.

“No, it didn’t,” I admitted. “And I won’t justify that to you. I still can’t justify it to myself. All the reasons why I did it—they explain where my mind was, but they don’t excuse anything, and I won’t pretend they do. And when I saw you waiting for me at the airport, I knew Ihadto tell you. I was going to hurt you and I was going to lose you, but the alternative was letting you be blissfully ignorant with someone who’d fucked up like that.” It was definitely a struggle not to break down now. “You didn’t deserve what I did to you. ButIdidn’t deserve to be loved by someone who thought I was a decent boyfriend.”

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Silas chewed his lip. “Did you tell me all of this the first time around?”

Eyes stinging, I shook my head. “No. I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was a coward.” I hesitated, then quietly added, “And the conversation honestly didn’t last very long. Once I told you, you were done with me. You told me to get my shit and get out.” I offered a heavy half-shrug. “So I did.”

“You had to move out, though. That must’ve taken some time.” He eyed me skeptically. “You didn’t take any opportunity there to tell me?”

“No,” I whispered. “You made it clear you didn’t want to see me or hear from me. Your sister was there the day I moved out. Not you.”

God, that had been a hellish day. Shiloh hadn’t said a word to me, but she hadn’t needed to. She’d pinned a glare on me that should’ve been deadlier than a basilisk’s. And still, that had been better for my cowardly ass than having Silas there while I took my stuff and slunk out of the condo.

In the present, Silas studied me, his expression unreadable. “If I’d given you the chance,wouldyou have told me everything you’ve told me today?”

“I don’t know,” I said with total honesty. “I really, really don’t. But having spent the last year learning what it means to truly regret something, there’s a lot of things I’d change if I had the chance to go back.”

He chewed his lip. I couldn’t decide if he was trying to work up the courage or strength to get up and walk out, or if he was pleading with me to convince him of… something.