I did not rush around finally doing my "duty" as my lovely ex husband insinuated that I failed to do when he finally left my office. It wasn't because I was upset or afraid of what I'd learn - I trusted Billy and his team.

I was hungry. That's what I reminded myself as I was shown to a table at the same buffet that Billy and I had lunch at, and while I loaded my plate, and when I sat alone and chewed every bite at least fifty times - I counted. I was careful driving back to the office, so much so that if I had been driving behind myself I would have been livid at the pace I was setting.

The office was too close to the fucking restaurant I chose, that's why I still made it back in plenty of time to open up my email and look through all the surveillance crap that I had let go.

In my defense, before I click on the play button and look at whatever had Joe looking so fucking smug, I hadn't been ignoring the emails. I truly did trust Billy and the team and so I didn't see a point in looking over the footage of their missions.

I did a search so I could see everything that had been sent and clicked the option to start at the earliest date - and had to consider when we started this little venture versus when Billy and I started our life together. What the fuck –

Billy came home a few hours after I arrived with Terror. I knew my mom had picked up on something being off about me, but I gave her a vague excuse about feeling tired from a long day and she seemed somewhat appeased. If only Billy would be so easy. Who was I kidding? If only I weren't gearing up to ask the uncomfortable questions that doing my "duty" had made rise to the surface of my fucking -

"Oi, aren't you gonna say hello?" Looking up from the veggies I'd been carefully chopping while he was taking off his duster and boots, I blinked and he studied me. "What's wrong?"

Well fuck, I thought I'd have until after dinner, or at least until after I got dinner in the oven. Refocusing on the pile of unchopped ingredients, I shrugged, hoping he'd take a hint and let it go. "Hey," pulling the next carrot onto the cutting board, I got back to dinner prep, but of course I was dealing with William Butcher and he wasn't exactly capable of just ignoring a massive elephant that seemed to hover in the room.

His heat closed in on me after a few beats, or chops if I were measuring by my prep work. Leaning closer, his cheek close enough to mine that his beard was teasing my skin, I waited for him to ask me what the fuck my issue was. Instead he stayed in position, just quietly breathing, and I was tempted to turn my head to see what the fuck he was doing.

Just when the silence and curiosity was about to force me to break my own rule - or at least void my own yearning to hold off on addressing what I was almost terrified to find out - he made a small noise that sounded like he was confirming a suspicion. "Carrots don't look like they need defused." I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn't see me, but I didn't care. "Potatoes look safe too." And then his nose was sliding along my jaw, followed by his lips. "Which means that whatever your issue is, I won't find it until dinner's ready."

Well, look at that, I guess he could give me time to process and prepare. His teeth were teasing my neck, but I kept up with my chore, even if the temptation moved from seeing what he was so intent on learning from my cutting board to fully participating in what he was trying to stoke with his mouth on my skin.

Billy gave up when he realized that I was firmly committed to preparing our food and went off to play with Terror - or maybe check to see if Terror needed some of that salve that Mom had bought for his sexy fun times at her house with his zoo of debauchery.

And while I finished putting dinner together, I was trying to figure out how to approach the subject of what I'd seen on the surveillance that I'd been trusting enough to ignore - that my ex brought to my attention - without my ass or his ending up sleeping in another room for the rest of our lives.

Damn my plan for dinner - once it was in the oven, which I could swear was as silently done as humanly possible - Billy popped back into the kitchen and there I was with nothing to fucking distract me from that fucking elephant that was lurking invisible but huge.

"Wanna finally talk about whatever has you ready to crawl outta your skin?" He was studying me again, the focus of a man who wasn't going to just let it go until after our meal. Fuck.

Taking a huge breath to keep myself as calm as possible, a gesture toward the breakfast nook and he sat first. Sitting down as if the chair might burst into flames, and as I mentally went over what I'd seen - and honestly I was shocked that the fucking chair wasn't combusting.

"Joe came to see me today," Billy wasn't expecting me to start with a mention of my ex, but I thought starting at the beginning might be the best way to go. I wasn't surprised that he reached for my hand, but he was when I tucked them under the table. The look of hurt tugged at my heart, but I went on - knowing that I had to remove the idea that Joe had tempted me away or back, depending on the vantage point. Once I explained that it was part social call, I mean what else could you call your ex husband dropping by to remind you of your not so stellar departure from the marital home, one part work visit - I had to take another deep breath. "His reminder that I'd been neglecting some of the more repetitive emails that I tend to scroll past made me think that I should at least have a cursory glance at them."

"Which emails do you ignore?" I wasn't imagining the bob of his Adam's apple that proved he wasn't quite as cool and collected as his posture and body language showed.

And I knew that he knew, or at least suspected that I had knowledge of something he wasn't prepared for me to know.

"The surveillance from the team's missions," his nod was curt, but he was still seated and my tone was still even. "And any contact that any of you might have with a supe -" I left it hanging, hoping that he'd take the reins and run with it, with an explanation for what I'd seen, who I'd seen him with - both of them.

Instead, he simply waited. Watching me as I considered how to throw precisely what I'd seen with my very own eyes, well at least the footage from these meetings and praying that I'd be able to eat the dinner that's delicious aroma was currently enveloping us in our spot in the kitchen.

"Maeve, for instance," he flinched and I felt a pinch in my chest. "In a nondescript apartment building downtown that you arrived at first." I could have told him the times and dates, but I chose not to - not when I felt like dinner was going to be a wash. "And Homelander -" the idea of the man in front of me meeting with a supe that he swore vengeance against almost daily, a supe that had not only raped his former wife, but also chemically fucked up my very life fluids to the point that I might never fully know the extent of how I was changed was something that I didn't understand - nor were the extra details that I'd uncovered through several questionable means. The little vials that he'd been given and I didn't feel comfortable even contemplating Maeve leaving and adjusting her clothing - her hair mussed in a way it hadn't been upon entry and her mouth looking - no, I couldn't fathom dealing with that, not yet.

Silence stretched between us, and it wasn't comfortable or easy. Heavy and strained, I felt like every part and piece of me was strung so tightly that I might snap at any moment.

The oven timer went off, breaking the silence, but the strain was still heavy between us and I was afraid that when the talking began again, my entire life was going to change - again.