The Silent Woman by Minka Kent

Author:Minka Kent [Kent, Minka]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Sylvie

* * *

“You can’t tell me this isn’t you.” Wells all but shoves his cell phone at me.

A photo fills the screen. Zoomed in. Crystal clear.

A woman entering a hotel in the afternoon.

There’s no denying it’s me—black yoga pants, white tank top tied just above the waistband, hair tucked under a coffee-colored baseball cap that practically blends in with my hair.

“Who sent you this?” I ask.

“Who do you think?”

“I don’t know,” I say, handing the phone back and tossing my hands up. I’m not sure whether to be creeped out that someone took my photo without my knowledge—or upset that my emotional affair has finally caught up to me.

This is what I wanted though, right?

In a way, on the deepest planes of my existence, a part of me wanted to get caught so Wells would finally see that he deserves better than me … so Wells would finally let me go.

“Care to tell me what you were doing at the Beverly Hills Richmond Hotel yesterday at one o’clock in the afternoon?” His jaw is tight, clenched, and his stare is sharp, narrow, slicing through me.

I could tell him the truth—that I met up with my ex and had every intention of burning our marriage to the ground via self-sabotage. Then I chickened out. I couldn’t go through with it. But with this photo of me going to a hotel in the middle of the day when I was supposed to be at my office, how could I expect him to believe anything I say?

“Who sent you that?” I ask again.

“Does it matter?” His forehead is all lines and he takes an incredulous tone with me. I don’t know how to answer that. I suppose it doesn’t matter—the damage is done. The cat is out of the bag. The truth always comes out and here it is, staring us in our faces. “Why, Sylvie?”

“Does it matter?” I echo his question.

Wells slams his balled fist on the counter, sending a start to my heart.

I take a step back, inserting some distance between us.

“God damn it,” he says before dragging his palm across his mouth. It takes a second for me to realize his anger is self-directed. “Sylvie, I’m sorry.”

I’m the one who should be apologizing, not him.

His reaction is normal. Healthy. Understandable.

The man has just been betrayed by the woman he loves.

“Who is he?” Wells asks. “Wait. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know anything. What you did or didn’t do … none of it matters. Just … tell me how to fix this.”

A hundred times I’ve played this scenario in my head and not once did it go this way.

“You want to fix this?” I ask, speaking carefully.

He closes the gap between us, gathering my hands in his. “I know I’ve been working a lot lately, and I haven’t been as attentive as I should be. I don’t want to lose you, Sylvie. I can’t lose you. You’re my everything. You know that, right? I … this …”

Wells’ words fade into nothing, but his dark gaze holds me prisoner.

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