NOT YOURS TO LOSE, EX-HUSBAND

Roxanne's POV

It's supposed to be a party, but I don't feel very festive. The lights are too bright, the music too loud. And definitely not with Camilla and Reese sitting across the table, giggling about something. She has her hands wrapped around his neck, and he is leaning in close so he can hear her above the music.

The way he used to lean into me.

"This is nice," someone at the table says, bringing his glass to his lips. I think he is one of the investors at Reese's company. A company I poured years of my life into, but only his name glows on the letterhead.

"Congratulations on bagging this grand contract once again, Mr. Beaumont."

Cheers erupt on the table, and glasses clink. I raise mine to join them, desperate to fit the image of the proud wife, because I am truly proud of him. But Reese shoots me a sharp look, shaking his head insistently.

"Alcohol kills chances," Reese announces, like a public service. Heads turn in my direction, watching. He isn't warning me because he cars. He is trying to tell the whole room that he controls me. He is branding me.

And that's rich, coming from him who is already on his third glass of vodka.

Camilla brings her hands to his thighs as she snaps her other fingers for attention. "I read about it in one of my wellness magazines. Remember, Reese, because of my ..."

"I do," Reese replies gently, edging her on. "The doctor listed a bunch of things alcohol causes, and infertility was the first on the list."

The only other woman at the table tilts her head at me. "How long have you been trying, honey?"

The room stirs as her seemingly innocent question gets me even more stares. I can see the sympathy in their eyes. It stings.

"Long enough." I get on my feet, the chair scraping against the ground. "I am going to get a soda." It is either that or I drown from humiliation at this table.

"Roxanne, that is no way to talk to our investor's wife," Reese scolds, jumping to his feet as well. He has a growing frown on his face as he looks at the lady with apology in his eyes.

Apology that instantly turns to rage when he regards me again. "Apologize now, Roxanne."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, grabbing my purse and walking away. I can hear Reese behind me, about to give me another lecture on how to behave in public so people don't think up the ludicrous idea that our marriage has a problem.

Because it doesn't. At least, not to my husband.

But he hasn't gone far away from the table when Camilla suddenly yelp. I turn around when I hear the sound of a glass breaking, just in time to catch my husband running back to her with urgency.

"Oh my God! Camilla!" Worry slips through his lips, and it is so easy to place the distinction between how he treats me and her. "What happened? I was only gone a couple of seconds."

She clutches onto the table for balance as her feet threaten to give up under her. A weak heroine in a stage play. Her hair is slightly in disarray now, almost like she intentionally fell hard enough to create that image.

"I was going... to go after you and ... Roxanne," she pants, using her other hand to hold onto her chest. "I didn't... I didn't want you both to fight because of... of what I said."

I swear, if she holds on to her chest one more time, I might just drag her into the ET myself, but not for the reasons she wants.

"You know you are ill," my husband sighs, helping her up like porcelain. She leans into him, her lips slightly parted and her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. "You shouldn't push yourself, Camilla. You need rest. Do you want to go home?"

She shakes her head at once. "The hotel is boring and I don't want to be there without you."

"No, silly!" Reese pinches her chin playfully. "You are coming home with us."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes find me, feigning guilt. "Does your wife..."

I allow the rest of her words to drown under the music as I continue my journey to the bar. Now, I not only have to suffer through outings with Camilla sitting right next to my husband, where I should be.

I also have to put up with her living in my home.

How splendid!

By the time I reach the bar, I've already swallowed the bitter truth. Not only is Camilla stealing my place beside my husband in public, she is also moving into my home.

"Long day?" A stranger leans on the counter beside me as I wait for my soda. I do not turn to look at him.

"Nothing worse can happen."

"Don't be so sure," he chuckles. I can hear a bass undertone. "I once thought that after a horrible day, until I walked right into my door on my way to my room in the night and ended up with a concussion. It kept me awake all night."

It doesn't bring a smile to my face. "Well, try not to walk into doors tonight."

The bartender slides my soda over. "Do you want to mix it with something stronger?"

I shake my head, grabbing the can with an appreciative smile.

"Driving?"

The stranger is still here. I steal a glance.

Blue eyes.

"No. I guess I'm not really feeling very excited."

"You are at a party!" He says exasperatedly. "Come alive. Take risks. You can order a ride home if you're too inebriated to drive, just in case you are here alone. I'm sure the person who won this contract is doing the same thing."

The question in his words is very audible.

"Doctors are of the opinion that alcohol reduces the chances of fertility."

I can't believe I just said that to a total stranger. But worse, it bothers me more that I found nothing else to rescue me other than Camilla's and Reese's sickening words.

"Just for a night?"

"Yes." I turn around to walk away. "At least, my husband thinks so."

"Oh!" I hear him chuckle behind me. "Married. Got it. Although I have to admit that that has never stopped me."

Ignoring how that makes me feel, I arrive at the table, sighing when I meet Reese and Camilla still here.

"There you are," Reese says, relief wrapped in irritation. "We need to leave."

I stop. "Why?"

"Camilla is feels sick. She thinks she is about to throw up. Let's get her home."

Home. Our home.

"Move it, Roxanne!" My husband barks, lifting her in his arms and heading towards the door. "Grab her bag and shoes on your way out."