Grace's POV
My fingers automatically found the ring, touching it nervously. Even wasted, this guy had sharp eyes.
"J—Just because I'm married doesn't mean my issues come from my marriage," I scrambled to defend myself, feeling way too exposed under his gaze.
Honestly, part of me still wondered if he was some creep following me around. But what would be the point? I wasn't anyone special or drop-dead gorgeous enough to obsess over.
Just another stressed-out working woman drowning under pressure.
"Fair point," he agreed, taking another swig. "But for married career women, relationship drama usually tops the list. Most get stuck choosing between their husband and their career."
"I bet you rake in serious cash as Chief Editor, but those insane hours come with the territory," he continued. "So your breakdown? Probably a blowout with hubby about your work schedule and his dead-weight status."
He paused, waiting for my reaction. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to keep going.
"Why do I think he's dead weight? Simple—no real man lets his wife grind herself into the ground if he's got the money to support her."
My mouth fell open as this kid laid out my life with surgical precision. That last comment hit like a sledgehammer.
He was right. No decent guy would watch his wife work herself to death if he could afford to take care of them.
"But you're not crying just over some argument with him, are you?" he said, snapping me back to reality. "There's more. Something deeper, something bigger."
"What makes you so sure?" I asked.
Uncertainty flickered across his face for a split second. "Because you strike me as tough. You wouldn't break down over some petty fight."
I let out a bitter laugh, realizing I was an open book to this stranger. He looked like your typical college party boy—the kind who lived for weekend ragers and coasted through classes brain-dead.
But he'd blindsided me with how sharp he actually was.
"Pretty observant for a drunk frat boy," I said with heavy sarcasm. "Color me impressed."
"Heh, drunk doesn't mean stupid," he replied, clearly amused rather than offended. Seemed like nobody had ever called him a drunk frat boy before.
But that worked fine—we were supposed to be strangers anyway. No point knowing each other's real deal.
"Alright, if you really want to know, yes—it's not just some fight. It's..." I sucked in a deep breath, wondering if I could actually spill my guts to this guy tonight. We were strangers, so why hold back? Come morning, we'd both forget this ever happened.
I took another breath and dropped the bomb. "He cheated on me."
I watched for his reaction, but he just sat there, stone-faced, like he'd seen it coming from a mile away. Like it was inevitable.
His lack of surprise stung a little, but I pushed on anyway. "And he cheated with my own sister. The same sister I practically raised from childhood."
"Now that's fucked up," he finally said, shaking his head and hitting the bottle again. "Didn't see the sister angle coming. That's seriously messed up."
"But you still expected him to cheat?"
"Obviously," he said without mercy. "I mean, wasn't it bound to happen? Some loser who can't get his shit together cheats on his successful wife out of spite or boredom—whatever floats his boat—then plays the victim when he gets caught. Like he's the one who got screwed over."
I sighed heavily. "You're right. Should've seen it coming. How was I so blind?"
"Still doesn't make him right. Don't worry, I'm team you," he said reassuringly. "So what happened after you busted him? Did he grovel?"
"Ha! As if!" I snorted. "He told me he wants an open relationship, and I should just accept that he's gonna screw other women because... well, because he feels like it!"
I almost mentioned that Charles blamed my infertility, but that was too raw, too humiliating. I couldn't say that out loud, not even to a stranger I'd never see again.
"What bullshit! Tell me you're not buying into his open relationship crap," he said with disgust. "Unless you want to play that game too. You don't, right?"
I stared at him, almost saying I wanted to do exactly that.
Not because I actually wanted it—hell no—but as payback against that worthless piece of shit Charles. He cheated? Then I could too!
But sanity kicked in before I said something stupid. Good thing I wasn't completely wasted right now.
"No, I don't want an open relationship. I just want one man who actually loves me—a normal, loving relationship," I said, though I wasn't even sure I believed my own words.
"And this husband of yours—you staying with him?" he asked.
"Hell no!" I shot back, shaking my head violently. The idea of staying after his betrayal was insane. "I've done everything for him and this is how he pays me back? I'm not some idiot who'd take him back after he cheated and humiliated me!"
"Then what are you waiting for?" He stood up from the couch and walked over to me, extending his hand palm up. "Give me your ring."