Delaney James seemed to have it all-a Manhattan townhouse, a thriving career as a fashion journalist, and a handsome, high-powered husband, but when he announces he's leaving her, Delaney's picture-perfect life unravels. Heartbroken and in need of a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"He did what?" Nico shouts.
When Will told me he needed space, I decided I'd be the one to leave. I couldn't stay in that house with him - not after what I saw. So, I packed enough for a few days, texted Nico to say I was coming over, and walked away from the man I love. The man I thought was my forever. The man I'm not sure is mine at all anymore.
I don't know what to feel. Half of me is furious - furious and disgusted, not just because he broke our wedding vows, but because he did it in our home, in our bed. And instead of telling me the truth, he took the coward's way out, hiding behind lies and distractions. If he'd just been honest, maybe none of this would have happened.
The other half of me is shattered. The thought of him touching someone else, kissing her, being inside her - it makes me sick. It's not just the betrayal. It's knowing it wasn't a mistake. It wasn't a one-time thing. He kept choosing her. And maybe he has feelings for her. Maybe he never really respected me at all. And if there's no trust, no respect - what's left to fight for?
"Can I stay here for a few days?"
"You know you don't need to ask." He opens his front door wider and gives me a soft smile. "Get your cute ass in here."
"Thanks."
I walk through the door and drop my bag, and as soon as I do, he wraps his long arms around me and pulls me into his chest. I grip the back of his t-shirt in my fists, breathing in his comforting scent of pine and laundry detergent, and let out a shaky sigh.
Nico Simone is the first person I met when I moved to New York. I was eighteen and fresh out of a small suburb in North Carolina, and after he saved me from a near death experience, we went for coffee and started talking. It was like I'd known him my whole life. We're different in so many ways, but he's the balance in my life when I need it, and the brother I never had.
"What can I do?" he asks. "Do you want me to kick his ass? Fuck up that pretty face of his? Oh! I could ask Dean at Manhattan Mocha to put MiraLAX in his morning coffee so he shits his pants in the middle of an important meeting or a trial. That could be fun."
I force a laugh as I rest my chin on his chest and look into his familiar, light-brown eyes. "Tell me you have bourbon."
"Do you even know me at all?" He stares at me adoringly and kisses the tip of my nose. "Go set yourself up in the guest room and I'll pour you a glass. I already ordered dinner. Sloan's going to pick it up on her way home."
"You're my hero."
"And don't you forget it," he responds, smirking.
Nico was born into wealth. His family moved to Manhattan when his father became an anesthesiologist at New York Presbyterian, and he grew up in elite private schools, dressed in designer labels. When his grandfather - founder of a hugely successful investment firm - passed away, Nico inherited a staggering fortune. His parents locked it in a trust until he turned twenty-two.
