The Roommate, Kiersten Modglin [best books for 20 year olds .txt] 📗

I could hear him still talking, apologizing, but I couldn’t listen. I couldn’t focus on anything else.

The line rang twice, and then I was sent to voicemail.

Without a second thought and completely blinded by my rage, I swung open the door again, rushed past Elias, and scooped up my keys from the counter.

“I’ll be back,” I called.

“Be careful. Do you want me to go—”

I’d already shut the door, interrupting his offer. There was no way I could allow Elias to come, because I was going to unleash the worst parts of myself on my wife. Angry, bitter tears filled my eyes as I barreled down the stairs and through the parking garage before climbing in the car and whipping out of the parking garage and away from downtown.

I tried to call her again on the way there, over and over again. Every time I’d hear the voicemail, I’d hang up and call again. She’d either answer or I’d get there first. Either way, she wasn’t going to get away with her lie anymore. If she was going to leave me for someone else, there was no way she was going to keep up the charade that the fault lay with me. If she was woman enough to have an affair, she was going to be woman enough to look me in the eye and tell me about it herself.

As I arrived in Green Hills, I’d given up trying to call. I was only minutes from home and still trying to prepare myself for what I would say. Truth was, if she’d answered I was sure I would’ve rambled and cried, unable to form coherent thoughts. But now, I’d had enough practice, enough time to think. And still, I had nothing good to say.

How could you do this to me? I’d beg.

How could you let me fight so hard to fix things, blame myself for everything going wrong, hate myself for not doing everything I could to make things better when I’d had the chance. And all along, it had been her. Not me. I hadn’t been the one that made the fatal mistake.

I may not be blameless, but the blame assigned to me was significantly less than I’d been made to believe.

I pulled into the driveway, noting that both doors to the garage were closed, which could mean that the strange man was still there, that my mother-in-law was there, or that no one was there at all. I’d be completely surprised, as would whoever was waiting on the other side of the door.

I practically launched myself from the car when it rolled to a stop, and I hurried up the walk quickly. When I reached the door, I rapped my knuckles against the wood, already digging in my pocket for my keys.

This was still my house, dammit, and there was no way in hell I was going to hand it over just because she’d fallen for someone else. Why should I have to uproot my life when it was she who had made the decision to end things?

Everything was different now.

They weren’t coming quick enough. I knocked again. “Addy, open up!” The keys twisted in my hand as I searched for the right one.

Where is it? Where is it?

As I found it and moved to lift it to the lock, the door swung open. My wife stood in front of me, sopping wet with a baby blue towel wrapped around her body and a scowl on her face. A puddle of water droplets was forming around her feet. “What the hell are you doing?” She put a hand on her chest, letting out a gasp of breath. “I thought you were the police, that something had happened to Rory. Jesus, Wes. What’s the emergency? What are you doing here?”

“Do you have something to tell me?” I demanded, my body trembling with rage.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you have something to tell me?” I repeated.

“For heaven’s sake, come inside. You’re letting all the heat out.” She stepped back, but I didn’t move.

“Do. You. Have. Something. To. Tell. Me.” I spat the words out, more a statement than a question, my eyes drilling into hers.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” She shook her head, her mouth gaped open.

“I know about the man.”

She blinked rapidly at me, her face pale. “What are you talking about? What man?”

“The man you had here today.”

For a moment, it looked as though she was going to deny it. Perhaps that’s what I hoped would happen. If she denied it, maybe I could go on denying it a little while longer. “Wait a second, are you talking about Matt? How in the world did you know he was here today?”

“Who the hell is Matt?” I demanded, still shaking. I refused to answer her questions until she answered mine.

She put up her hands. “Calm down. You’ve got it all wrong, okay?” She stepped back, gesturing that I should come into the house. “Let me dry off, and I’ll explain everything. I’m freezing standing here with the wind blowing in.” She shivered, as if to prove her point.

I followed her inside, my anger dissipating only slightly as she shut the door and walked off in a huff, mumbling to herself. I stood near the door, not moving until she reappeared moments later, dressed in her pajamas with her hair wrapped in a microfiber towel atop her head.

“Okay,” she said, both hands resting on her hips. “Now then, Matt, the man who was here today, is Brody’s father, the boy who Rory is dating.”

“Oh,” I said, letting what she’d said sink in. I felt incredibly foolish as my anger rushed away as quickly as it had arrived. “Oh… Well, why was he… How did you… Why was he here in the middle of the day?”

“Because he’s a realtor and his schedule is hectic, but he wanted to meet us.”

“Okay, and with us being the operative word there, why wasn’t I invited?”

“It was last minute. Rory asked if she