Chapter 11

Eleven

Chloe

He wasn't home yet. I was certain I looked like an idiot peeking out the window, waiting eagerly for my husband's Chevrolet to pull up in the driveway. Fucking hilarious.

I retreated from the window, stomping over to the couch in the living room. Why on earth was I worried about that jerk? I should be happy that he was gone for fucksake. I could imagine him passed out in some high-end fancy club, drunk from chugging away his troubles.

"Idiot!" I spat, grabbing a throw pillow on the couch and throwing it to the floor. "Idiot!" I screamed again, feeling a fresh wave of fury pulse through my veins.

Why the hell was I even mad? He shouldn't matter. None of the shit he did ought to matter to me. Heck, He could wind up, dead ass drunk in the damn gutter and I would not give a fuck. And it was definitely not because he had run off after kissing me.

Liar.

"I am not a liar!" I yelled at myself, feeling an inordinate urge to strangle something. "Who does he think he is anyway