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Home / Romance / My Husband's Best Friend Is Obsessed With Me / Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

All Chapters of My Husband's Best Friend Is Obsessed With Me : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

29 Chapters

11

NADIAThe next three weeks blur into work. Sketches, fittings, client meetings. Days start early, end late. On weekends, I attend fashion shows, smiling for photos that barely feel like me. Somewhere in between, I find time to write handwritten notes to a few loyal clients — small, personal gestures that remind them I still care.One of them, Lillian, replies almost immediately. She wants to meet for coffee to discuss something special — a dress for her daughter’s graduation.“She’s everything I’ve got,” she says, setting her tablet aside as the waiter drops off our drinks. “This milestone means the world to us.”I smile, genuinely. “She’s lucky to have you, Lillian.” I reach across the table, giving her hand a light squeeze.She squeezes back, her smile warm. “How’s your husband?”My smile falters before I can stop it. “Felix?”She chuckles. “Last I checked, that’s the only one you had.”“He’s fine,” I say, lowering my gaze so she won’t catch the flicker of hurt in my eyes.“That’s a

12

JORDANMy phone buzzes at the edge of my desk. I ignore it at first — too many hours, too many fires to put out — but something about the vibration keeps tugging at me.When I finally pick it up, the number’s unfamiliar. No ID. No name. Just a message.Normally, I’d delete it without blinking. The only person who ever texts me during work hours isn’t talking to me anymore. And even if she was, she’d never use this number.Still, I open it.Unknown: You can’t protect everyone, hero. I know who you’re guarding. And when I’m done, you’ll wish you’d never taken the job.My stomach knots. The words hit like a punch to the gut not because of what they say, but because of what they mean. Someone knows. Someone’s watching.A chill runs through me. For a second, I just stare at the message, reading it again and again. Then I drop the phone on the desk and scrub a hand over my face.“Damn it.”I grab the intercom and buzz the tech office. “Eli, I need you to trace an unknown number. Now. Full

13

JORDANThe first thing I see when I step into the bar is Felix — shoulders hunched, one hand wrapped around a half-empty glass of scotch like it’s his last bit of control. The amber catches the light, flickers across his face, and for a second, he looks older. Tired in a way that has nothing to do with the hour.I cross the room and clasp his back, offering the other guys at the counter the easy nod of acknowledgment men use when words feel unnecessary.It’s a Thursday night, and the place is crawling with bodies and noise. The air smells like whiskey, fried food, and weekend anticipation. A live band is setting up at the far end, their laughter loud and careless as they tune their guitars. Everyone here is waiting for the music, for the escape it promises.Everyone except me.I didn’t come because I missed Felix or because the scotch here is good. I came because I needed something—anything—to keep my mind from spinning where it shouldn’t. From circling back to Nadia.I tell myself it

14

NADIAI can’t sleep. I keep tossing, sheets tangled around my legs, body aching for something I haven’t had in too damn long. It’s pathetic how easily my mind drifts back to him—Mystery Man. The only one who ever really knew how to touch me.Felix and I might as well be flatmates at this point. We move around each other like polite strangers sharing rent. Breakfasts are silent. Dinners don’t even happen anymore. He sleeps in his world. I sleep in mine.To his credit, he’s tired. He’s said sorry more times than I can count. But every apology just bounces off the wall I’ve built. I can’t unhear the words that came out of his mouth that night. I can’t forget the tone.The whole thing was his goddamn idea. Then somewhere along the line, he decided to start calling the shots, like I’m some obedient pet waiting for his approval. If he wanted control, he should’ve married a fucking doormat.He could’ve asked for my input. He could’ve at least listened. But no—Felix always has to play lord of

15

JORDANI don’t know what I thought would happen after sending Nadia those flowers.Okay, maybe that’s a lie. I expected something—a reaction, a flicker of emotion, a spark. Maybe anger that I’d dared to cross her invisible line after all her warnings. Or maybe, just maybe, a flash of excitement. The lady at the shop swore the bouquet I picked was irresistible—“A mix like this? She’ll melt,” she’d said, wrapping them with the kind of confidence that makes a man believe he’s about to make things right.But it’s been days, and there’s nothing. No call. No message. Not even a curt “thanks.”The silence feels heavier than rejection. It’s as if she’s erased me completely, and that thought claws at me.At this point, I’d take anything. A text. A curse. A whisper that she still thinks about me.That she misses me. Even half as much as I miss her.I grip the steering wheel tighter and glance at the clock on my dash. 9:47 p.m. The world outside my windshield is a blur of streetlights and drizzl

16

NADIAThe night is too quiet. The kind that amplifies every thought I’m trying to drown out.I stand by the window, fingers curled around the curtain, staring at the car parked across the street.My chest tightens. I don’t need to see his face to know it’s him. I just… know. The air shifts — the same way it always does when he’s close.My phone starts to ring, pulling me out of whatever spell I’ve slipped into.For a second, I freeze — part of me hoping it’s him, the other terrified it might be.When I see Laura’s name, relief and disappointment hit at the same time.“Hey, sis. How are you?” she says, her voice light, teasing.“Your timing is so off,” I murmur, dragging myself away from the window.“What’s wrong?”“Him.”“No shit.”“Laura…”“It’s high time you stopped this cat-and-mouse play, Nadia.”I let out a humourless laugh. “Okay, genius. What do you suggest I do? Divorce my husband?”“No.” She sighs — that long, weighty exhale that tells me she’s already exhausted with me. “Yo

17

JordanI stand at the entrance to the terrace and force myself not to pace. The night hums with laughter and soft music, but the noise fades into nothing. I’m not here for anyone else. Just her.I know she’ll come—because her eyes light up when I ask her to. Not with anger, not with hesitation but with something that looks a lot like excitement, though she tries to hide it every damn time.My fist tightened at the thought of Felix standing too close to her inside, his hand resting at the small of her back. He has every right—he’s her husband. That truth burns more than I care to admit. I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t feel this way, not when he’s my best friend. But watching him touch her, claim her in those small, familiar ways—it takes everything in me to stay still. To not cross the room and knock his teeth out for every time he’s made her flinch, for every piece of her he’s broken and tried to hide behind a smile.When the invitation arrived last week, I didn’t even blink. I cancel

18

NADIAThe sound of metal rings scraping across the curtain rod yanks me out of sleep. A flood of sunlight spills into the room, harsh and blinding.“What the—” I groan and shove the duvet over my head. “Laura, I swear to God, if that’s you—”“Good morning, sleepyhead!”That’s not Laura’s voice. That’s a man’s voice.My heart jumps, and for one brief, horrifying second I think—it’s him. The Mystery Man. The last person I want standing over me while I’m in pajamas and a messy bun. That man has a way of showing up anywhere, anytime, and I’m in no mood for that kind of drama before coffee.I rip the duvet down and blink against the light. Nope. Not him.Worse.Felix.He’s standing by the window, looking far too awake and pleased with himself.“Are you insane?” I snap. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”He smirks, completely unfazed. “Your mom’s in our kitchen.”“What the hell is she—”“My mom is in there too.”I roll my eyes and shove the duvet off completely. “No shit.”Felix’s br

19

NADIAMy phone buzzes two minutes after I walk Beatrice and my mom to their cars.Felix is a few steps behind me, head lowered, hands tucked into his pockets, his stride uneven. I know that look—he’s gearing up to talk.I don’t want to hear it. Not now.I’m not sure I can stay calm, and I’m even less sure I can hold back everything I’ve been biting down on since this morning.The idea that I have to get pregnant for this marriage to “move forward”—my mother’s version of fixing things, Beatrice’s gentle push—sits in my chest like a hot stone. It’s insulting. It’s unfair and it makes my blood simmer all over again.I shouldn’t be the one carrying the weight of making this work and Felix, dragging behind me with that careful silence, is one more thing I’m not ready to deal with.With a soft sigh, I pull my phone from my back pocket and glance at the screen.Lillian. Finally—something that isn’t another reminder of everything I’ve left hanging.We haven’t spoken since her daughter’s weddi

20

JORDANEli lines up the cans of oil so the youngest on the team can start pouring them into the trucks—and, of course, Mom’s and Sharon’s vehicles that somehow found their way into the queue again today.One of the trucks looks rough. Not totaled, but the kind of “rough” that makes Eli’s eye twitch. One of my guys got into a scuffle with some idiot tailing him from God-knows-where, and the truck paid for it.I catch Eli frowning, his brows pulled tight like the damage is a personal insult. I wave Ty over and jab a thumb at the truck.“Handle that. Today. It’s Eli’s favorite.”Ty snorts. “Man’s such a big baby. Sulking over a scratch.”I chuckle, loud enough for Eli to hear. “Get him a lollipop while you’re at it.”“I’m standing right here, guys,” Eli snaps, shooting us a look that could sour milk.The guys laugh. Mom doesn’t. She just pats Eli’s back and tells him she’ll bake him a cake, which somehow makes him scowl harder.Then—A soft, sharp sound cuts through the noise. From behin

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