“I fucked someone else, D.” I hang my head, dropping it into my hands. All I hear is the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. How the fuck did I let this happen? Making decisions with my dick, that’s how. I’m a better man than that. Anya deserves better than that. He finally responds. “It’s been two years, Loz.” I lift my head, and he’s still staring at me with worry etched on his face. “It could be two hundred years, it wouldn’t matter. Anya is my wife.” “But she died …” “You think I don’t fucking know that?” I spit the words, directing my rage at him because I have nowhere else to put it.
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