It wasn’t just about insecurity. It was about respect. It didn’t matter the subject, I talked to other women while not talking to her. First, she thought I didn’t love her. Now, she thought I didn’t respect her.

No matter what, she was my wife and I should make sure everyone around me knew that she was the most important person in my world. That I cared about her more than what Gregory fucking Mertens thought of King Oil.

“I’m sorry.”

She paused mid-ravage of her suitcase. The zipper wouldn’t have survived much longer. Her mouth was set when she looked up at me. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, Kate. I didn’t realize, and I should’ve.” I closed the distance between us and gripped her arms, brushing my thumbs over her long-sleeved shirt. “I relied on your support through those conversations so much that I never considered how it made you feel.”

“I didn’t support you though. No one wanted to talk to me. Not even you.”

“I could give a fuck about the people I was talking to.” Her pupils dilated at my harsh tone. “I meant it when I said that I’m usually sitting there wishing that it was over. I just wanted to be with you, and I was always grateful you were with me.” I leaned into her, dangerously close to kissing her when a bed was only feet away. “Can I take you out tonight, before you get wrapped up in the conference?”

The anger drained out of her and she softened in my grip. “Where?”

“There’s a haute cuisine—”

She wrinkled her nose and stepped away. “I hate those places.” She grabbed a pair of slacks out of her suitcase and hung them up.

My brows shot up as I stood abandoned in the middle of the room. “Really?” She’d been in awe and gushed over the food every time I took her to a Michelin-starred restaurant. That’d been an act?

She noticed my confusion and sighed. “I mean, I like the experience. But half the time, I want to go to McDonald’s and get a Big Mac or something because I’m starving afterward.” She waved a hand around. “I hate the worry about what I’m going to wear and how to pronounce the entrees and trying to remember which fork to use first. It’s tedious.”

“So the entire time we dated, you were miserable? Our honeymoon?”

“It was nice,” she said lightly. “But that’s not how I want to live.”