“Mina,” he managed to get my name out before he took in my rapid breathing and descent into complete freak out mode. “Jesus, Mina, sit down,” he ordered when he saw the state that I was in.

“I need to get back,” I insisted as I shook my head wildly at his suggestion to take a seat. My driver already left, but I need to get back. “My things are at your apartment.”

“Our apartment,” he insisted. “And they’re supposed to be there.”

“No,” I yelled, shaking my head more vehemently. “I can’t trust them being there. You have a strange woman parading around there right now, what if she steals my iPad? My life’s work is on that thing!”

“Steal your work? What the hell are you talking about? There’s no one else in our apartment.”

“You left Wes and that woman behind, where else would they go?”

“Hopefully, that bitch found her own way home. Wes’s place is across the hall from mine, so he most likely went there,” Tucker offered up in explanation.

“Wes lives across the hall from you?” I questioned, wondering how I never knew that.

Tucker nodded. “He lives across the hall from us, yes.”

How was it possible that I thought my husband had been staying somewhere with Wes, and hadn’t realized he might have been that close by the entire time? My life was ridiculous.

“Come on, you need to pull it together so we can get in there and get this family dinner over with.”

“You think this dinner matters now?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“Are you stupid?” I asked, legitimately wanting to know the answer to the question. He just stared at me, as if in answer of whether he was that unintelligent. “You literally just got out of that car,” I hissed as my finger extended in the direction of the BMW. “You did so in front of your apartment, with a woman – who was not your wife – groping all over you, kissing you, and all while your actual wife and best friend stood by watching.”

“Not that it makes a difference, but I wasn’t with her like that. She saw you standing there and thought she might persuade me to change my mind about an offer she made. Cynthia had high hopes I might marry her instead of you.”

“Cynthia? As in the realtor handling the house you’re buying?”

“Yeah,” he managed to get out before I laughed at him.

“Wow. You are truly either a clueless asshole or a heartless bastard, and I honestly don’t know which is worse at this point.”

“I’m sorry you had to see her behave that way. I promise, I’ve never been with her intimately, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What I’m worried about?” I parroted back as a question while I laughed at his ignorance. “I’m guessing you didn’t see the man standing across the street taking all of those photos of me watching you being mauled by some other woman less than a week after we supposedly came back from Vegas happily married.”