Teaching My Fiancé’s Mistress How To Keep Him

Chapter 2

By the time I got home, the smell of garlic and butter met me in the doorway

Alex stood at the stove, sleeves rolled to his elbows, stirring something in a pan. He turned when he heard me.

“Oh, there she is,” he said, his face breaking into that smile of his as he crossed the kitchen with his arms wide open. He pulled me against him before I could say anything, his lips brushing my forehead, then my cheek, then my mouth.

“Long day?” He asked.

The crease under his left eye deepened as he smiled, the same crease from the photograph on Zara’s phone.

I forced my arms around his waist, fighting down the anger rising in me. “You have no idea my love,”

He pulled back, his thumb tracing the edge of my jaw. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.” It came too easily. “I just had a pretty rough day.”

He kissed my forehead again. “I missed you babe,” he said, slipping out of my arms and returning to the stove.

Did you miss her too, I thought, before I could stop myself, and I pushed the thought away just as fast. “I missed you too,” I said.

His teeth flashed briefly. “Dinner's almost ready.”

“Oh, you made dinner. That’s sweet. What did you make?” I asked, tossing my bag onto the sofa.

He tilted his head a little. “Guess.”

I already knew from the smell, but I moved closer anyway. My favorite. Creamy garlic crab pasta.

“I made your favorite.” He said, flashing me that grin.

“You remembered?”

He leaned against the counter. “I remember everything about you.”

I pressed a hand to my chest, feigning surprise, and he held my gaze a moment longer before returning to plating the food and carrying it to the table.

I watched him move around the kitchen, completely at ease, and thought about how strange it was that this was the same man from Zara’s photograph, the same man who apparently had a whole life with another woman, standing here making my favorite meal like nothing was wrong.

I knew the patterns behind a lie better than most people, the repeated details meant to make something sound believable. Alex wasn’t cooking for me because he loved me. He was proving his innocence to himself as much as to me, mirroring the man I’d described on our first date without ever telling him to. He knew exactly how to shape himself around what I wanted.

I sat down as he took his seat across from me and dished out the food. He fed me the first bite off his own plate, the way he always did. According to him, food tasted better that way.

“It tastes really good,” I said, and for once since I'd walked in, I wasn’t pretending.

“Had to watch some tutorial videos while at work,” he said.

Alex was charming without even trying, and I understood, suddenly and sickly, exactly why Zara had fallen for him so deeply.

It was the same thing that had worked on my father the first time they met. Alex hadn’t tried to impress him with ambition, he’d asked about….. and let him talk about it for thirty minutes straight. My dad still brought it up.

He had a way of making you feel like the only thing that mattered in the room. He remembered everything, even things I wouldn't have expected anyone to hold on to: the name of my childhood dog, my most embarrassing memory from high school, things I’d mentioned once.

He packed my lunches and left sweet notes tucked inside. That was his gift, making you feel so seen you couldn't imagine him looking anywhere else. I understand now how he’d gotten away with it for so long.

“Do you know what I was thinking about all day at work?” he asked.

I shrugged. “What?”

“Our wedding.”

I nearly choked.

“Don't look so shocked.” Laughing, he handed me a glass of water.

“I'm not shocked,” I replied, taking a sip.

He rubbed my back gently. “You are.”

I rolled my eyes. “What about the wedding?”

“I think we should finalize the honeymoon’s location.”

My grip tightened around my fork. “Already?”

“Why not? It’s coming up fast.” He reached across the table and took my hand. “Unless you've booked a honeymoon with another man.”

I looked at him, smiling, and wished, for one clean second, that I'd never met him at all.

“You must be crazy,” I said, shaking my head, and the room filled with laughter before we went back to eating in a comfortable quiet, just the clink of forks and the low hum of the refrigerator.

I stole glances at him, at how easy and relaxed his movements were, like he was the most innocent person in the room.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said dropping his fork. “Something exciting.”

“What’s it about?”

He leaned back, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You know how I’ve been working late?”

I nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Well, it’s not all work, I’ve been putting something together. A project. And I think it’s finally coming together.”

“A project? You’ve never mentioned a project.”

He waved a hand. “Didn’t want to jinx it. I like things solid before I talk about them.”

“Okay, what kind of project?” I kept my voice light.

“It’s big Eloise. The kind that changes everything for us.” He reached across the table again and took my hand. “A better apartment, a better life, the kind you deserve. I’m doing this for us.”

My appetite disappeared between one bite and the next. “So tell me more. What exactly is it?”

“I don’t want to get into details yet. I'm still working on the pitch. But trust me, it’s once in a lifetime.

I took a moment to arrange my face into the reaction he was expecting. “I’m proud of you, babe.”

He squeezed my hand and went back to his plate. I looked down at mine, took a bite and forced myself to chew and swallow.

“I think I need more of this,” he said, mouth still full.

I reached over to spoon more onto his plate. “You've really gotten good at cooking.”

“You can say that again. Don't give me too much, I had a late lunch.”

My hand stopped over his plate.

“With who?” The question left me before I could catch them.

He didn't notice. “James,” he said, almost too quickly.

“James?”

“Yeah, my coworker– the one I had a guys’ night out with last week,” he said smoothly, not missing a beat.

I kept my face neutral and nodded. “Oh, that James?”

“Yeah.” He kept eating, completely unbothered.

For the first time, I could see how good he was at lying. With so much ease. In all my years as a therapist, I could read a lie off a client from just a shift in body language. But Alex here was a masterpiece.

I took another bite, forcing myself to look uninterested. “What’s he like again?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You’ve mentioned him a few times.”

His eyes flicked towards me. “James from work.”

I nodded. “Right.”

I looked down at my plate. I wasn’t asking because I cared about James. I wanted to know how he would answer a question he wasn’t expecting. And he didn’t even need time to think. He was too quick.

That was my first confirmation, and the knife in my hand suddenly felt heavier than it had a moment ago. For one terrible second I let myself picture driving it straight through his chest.