Chapter 2He Fell For My Soul And Married Her Lies

Miles didn’t get home until late. He looked startled to see me still sitting on the sofa, the living room bathed in the blue light of the TV.

He walked over and pulled me into a hug, his coat still cold from the night air. “Hey, honey. Why aren’t you in bed?”

I caught the faint, sophisticated scent of red wine. The Instagram photo flashed in my mind like a crime scene still.

I couldn’t help it. I pulled away slightly, my brow furrowed.

Miles noticed. He let out a weary sigh. “Do I smell like the bar? I grabbed a glass of wine with some colleagues. I’m going to go jump in the shower.”

He practically bolted for the bathroom.

Guilt in a man has a very specific velocity.

Fifteen minutes later, he climbed into bed beside me.

“Still awake? No beauty sleep tonight? Or are we thinking of something else?”

In private, Miles was a different man than the reserved, brilliant professor the world saw. With me, he was usually warm, almost needy. It was how I had spent years convincing myself that I was enough.

What did it matter if he’d had a legendary first love? I was the one in his bed. I was the one he’d asked to spend his life with.

I pushed his hand away. He looked genuinely shocked. I almost never turned him down. I had been infatuated with him since the eleventh grade—a decade of pining, a college-era secret, and finally, the dream come true. He was the air I breathed.

He reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp, studying my face. “What’s wrong? Did someone at the lab give you a hard time?”

I forced a brittle smile. “My fiancé is the department head. Who would dare?”

He ruffled my hair, satisfied that I wasn’t ill, and turned off the light. As soon as his breathing evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep, I reached for his phone.