This is how my heart breaks

What. The. Fuck. I had sat down at my desk and opened the manila envelope that was left on top of my stack of mail. It had seemed harmless enough. But it wasn’t. I blink my eyes over and over trying to make my brain process what it’s seeing but I can’t. I can’t unsee the images in the stack of pictures in my hand. Giant glossy eight by tens from different angles so there is absolutely no doubt that my heart is breaking. And it is broken. It’s not just broken, it’s shattered.

 

“It’s not what it looks like,” I hear from over my shoulder and I have to grit my teeth to keep from screaming. 

I shuffle the pictures sliding the top one to the back of the stack so that I can see the next in the row. This one is zoomed in. His head is tipped back and his face is distorted in both lust and passion as she straddles his lap. Her hands hold his to her breasts and I can see the play of tendons flex through them as he grips them tight. It was only two nights ago that his hands were on my own breasts much the same way as I rode his cock on the sofa. 

“Claire, did you hear me?” he asks but I shuffle the stack again. 

In this picture, he has his arms wrapped around her back and he’s pulling her close, her breasts mashed up against his strong chest. Her hands with long, red painted talons press in on either side of his face and as they kiss hungrily, their mouths open as their tongues tangle. 

“Goddamnit, Claire! Did you hear me?” My spine turns to steal. 

“I did. I’m just choosing to ignore you,” I respond coolly. 

“Don’t do this, baby,” he pleads. 

“I’m not the one who did anything,” I snap. 

“I can explain.” 

But I’m not interested in listening to him plead a case where he is more than guilty. 

“I’m going to need you to leave, Wes.” 

“No.” 

“This changes everything,” I say so softly even I struggle to hear the words that are coming out of my mouth.

“This changes nothing! Fuck that, Claire,” he yells.

“You want to run away. You have always wanted to run away. And here is your fucking reason served up to you on a goddamn silver platter.”

Everyone around us in the bullpen is doing everything they can to make it appear that they are not listening, not studying the tragic demise of Claire and Wes with rapt attention, but we all know that they are.

“No,” I shout back as I throw the stack of glossy betrayal down on top of my desk as I push my rolly chair back and stand. It slams into the desk behind mine. “You do not get to come in here, where I work, and tell me that I am to blame for your bullshit.”

“Okay,” he says quickly as he holds his hands up in surrender. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I can see you need time.”

“I need a lot of things. One of them is definitely distance.”

“I don’t know if I can give you that. I can’t lose you, baby.” His words burn hot behind my eyes and the last thing I want is for the other guys in the bullpen to see me cry.

“You should have thought about that before you fooled around with that stripper.”

“Claire—” he starts but I don’t let him finish.

“You need to go now,” I say softly. 

I stand with my feet apart, my hands on my hips, and my head bowed as if I’m waiting for a blow. But I see him clearly even if only in my peripheral. He looks at me and opens his mouth as if he’s going to try to explain again. Something in my stance must have told him it was a losing battle because he snaps his mouth closed before moving towards the exit. Wes pauses just before opening the door to turn and look back at me, I see him in my peripheral, but I’m looking at his lies and deceit spread across my desk for all to see. He pulls open the door and then slams it on his way out. I’m Detective Claire Goodnite and this is how my heart breaks.