HIS STRIPPER, HIS WIFE novel Chapter 5

Chapter five

Bianca

They stopped moving, Max’s head whipped around, his eyes widening when he saw me standing there. The woman beneath him scrambled to cover herself with the sheets, her face flushing red.

“Bianca.” Max’s voice came out strangled. “Wait, I can explain.”

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe well. My brain was trying to process what my eyes were seeing, but it felt like looking at a stranger. This couldn’t be Max, not the man who was always promising to love me forever.

“Get off her,” I said quietly.

Max climbed off the bed quickly, grabbing his boxers from the floor and pulling them on. His hands were shaking. “Bianca, please, just listen to me.”

“Get out.” My voice was still quiet, too quiet.

“This means nothing. I swear. It was just one time.” He took a step toward me, one hand reaching out like he wanted to touch me, to comfort me.

Something inside me snapped as my hand connected with his face before I even realized I had moved. The slap echoed through the room, his head jerked to the side, a red mark already blooming on his cheek.

“Bianca!” He stumbled back, his hand going to his face. “What the hell?”

“One time?” I laughed, but it sounded wrong, “You expect me to believe it was just one time?”

The woman on the bed, his so called sister, finally found her voice. “I should go.”

“Yes,” I said, not looking at her. “You really should.”

She grabbed her clothes and rushed past me, not bothering to dress properly. She just clutched everything to her chest and ran. The apartment door slammed behind her a moment later.

Max took another step toward me. “Baby, please. Let me explain. It’s not what you think.”

I slapped him again, harder this time. My palm stung from the impact, but I didn’t care. “Don’t call me that. Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Bianca, stop!” He backed away, his hands up in surrender. “Just listen to me for one second.”

“Listen to what?” My voice was rising now, “Listen to more lies? Listen to you tell me how much you love me while you screw your fake sister in my bed?”

“She’s not my sister! Okay? I lied about that. But it was just physical. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Just physical.” I repeated the words slowly, tasting how disgusting they were. “In my bed. In the apartment I pay for. While I was out working myself to death for money to feed us and to save my sister.”

He had the decency to look ashamed. “I know. I know it was wrong. But you’ve been so distant lately. So focused on Emma and work. I felt lonely.”

“You felt lonely.” I stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “You felt lonely, so you decided to sleep with someone else?”

“I’m sorry.” He moved toward me again desperately, “I’m sorry, Bianca. I made a mistake. Please, just give me a chance to make this right.”

“Don’t touch me,” I said when he tried to reach for me again. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

I turned and walked to the closet, throwing the doors open so hard they banged against the walls. His clothes were mixed with mine, his shoes on the floor next to my heels. Two years of living together, two years of building a life, and this is what it came to.

I grabbed his duffel bag from the top shelf and started shoving his clothes inside. Shirts, jeans, everything I could reach. I wasn’t being careful. Some things fell on the floor, but I didn’t care.

“Bianca, stop. Please stop.” Max’s voice was right behind me now. “We can work through this. We can go to counseling or something.”

I whirled around, the bag clutched in my hands. “Counseling? You think I want to work through this?”

“I love you.” His eyes were red now, actually crying. “I know I messed up, but I love you. We can fix this.”

“No.” I shoved the bag into his chest, hard enough to make him stumble backward. “We can’t.”

I went back to the closet and started grabbing more of his things. His jacket, his stupid collection of baseball caps he never wore, the expensive watch I had bought him for his last birthday. Everything went into another bag.

“This is all you have here,” I said, my voice shaking. “Two bags of clothes and lies. That’s it.”

“That’s not fair.” He was following me around the room now, like a lost puppy. “I’ve been here for you. I stayed with you when your parents died. I helped you with Emma.”

I stopped moving and turned to look at him, really look at him. “You helped me? You helped me?”

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