Chapter 3 #2
Every time I’ve tried to mix things up for us, he’s balked.
I’ve tried toys, lingerie, anything I could think of to spice things up and it never worked.
Never. The one time I attempted to talk to him about it, other than becoming angry, he said that couples at our stage just don’t do the wild sex thing anymore.
And in truth, I let it slide.
I was afraid to rock our happy little boat. I figured it was a rut. We were both so busy and I dumbly assumed once we reached the top of our careers and things settled a bit, our sex life would fall back into place.
But now? Now I wonder how many women there have been. If his sexual indifference with me is a product of sex he’s having elsewhere.
How did this happen?
How did I go from a relaxed, easy-going day off to this?
My mind swings back and forth, a runaway pendulum oscillating between completely devastated and inconsolably enraged.
For a fleeting moment, I consider going to his office to confront him. But then I think better of that. I’ve suffered enough humiliation for one day.
Home. I just want to go home.
So that’s what I do. I walk the ten blocks home. This time with purpose. No more aimless wandering. When I get there, I immediately head for his closet. My hands ripping open drawers and rummaging through the contents before I can even comprehend what I’m doing or what I’m looking for.
Condoms. Maybe a note or a phone number of a woman. Clothes that smell like her and not me. Anything.
I need something that will tell me unequivocally, yes, my fiancé is a lying, two-timing piece of shit, cheater. That’s what I need. Proof. But I come up empty after tearing apart his closet, his nightstand, and even his office. Nothing.
“Ahhhh!” I scream, pounding my fist on a shelf, somehow back in his closet. Reaching mindlessly, I tear every single piece of clothing down, throwing them in a blind rage. And when there is nothing left on the shelves or hanging from hangers, I drop down into the large pile I made and weep.
I weep so hard and for so long that eventually I must have fallen asleep, because in what seems like the next second, I’m startled awake by the sounds of my fiancé yelling at me. “What the hell is going on in here, Grace?”
His olive skin is ruddy with anger and confusion, and I take a second to look at him. Really trying to see the man beneath. The one he’s been hiding from me.
I stand up slowly, my eyes trailing up to his and when I meet his blue eyes, I begin to cry again. Because somehow, just looking at him, I know everything she said was true. I can longer deny it. Write it off in my head. Pretend I misheard.
I know .
“You had an affair,” I say, not even bothering to ask it like a question.
He blanches before quickly recovering, all that red-tinted anger disappears along with the blood in his face until he’s an ashen white.
“Where did you hear something like that?”
He didn’t even deny it.
“At lunch today,” I tell him in a calm tone that surprises me, my tears drying instantly.
All my anger is laying before me in the form of his clothes on the floor and I can’t seem to resurrect it.
“I was sitting in the café I like so much.” I pause, tilting my head, still studying him.
“A young woman with blonde hair and brown eyes sat down behind me. She proceeded to tell her friend in explicit detail all about her wild night last night with a lawyer who has the last name Marvelo and works at your firm. Not exactly the stuff of coincidence, is it?”
If I thought he was pale a moment ago, I was wrong.
He looks like he’s going to be sick, his forehead slick with sweat.
His hand grapples for the frame of the closet door like he needs the support and then his head drops, his chin hitting his chest before it rises back up and he brokenly meets my eyes.
“Deny it,” I challenge. “Go on. I dare you.”
“It’s not what you think,” he states, his tone pleading as his eyes become wild. “It was one time. I swear to God, it was just—”
“How could you do it?” I whisper.
“—One time,” he finishes because he didn’t hear me. “It meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. I got drunk at the bar and then—”
“Bullshit,” I rage, my anger rushing back through me with the force of an erupting volcano.
“You’re a goddamn liar!” I scream, pounding my fists on his chest. “I heard her, you son of a bitch. I heard all about the things you did with her. Things you never do with me. How could you do this? How could you throw us away like that?”
He grabs my fists, holding them against his chest with one hand as he tries to wrap his other around my waist to contain me. But I can’t let him touch me. The thought of it makes me sick.
“I was drunk,” he yells in my face. “I was stupid and drunk, and I wasn’t thinking.
It just happened. I stayed too long at the bar, and she came onto me, and we talked and then…
” He growls. “I told her it wasn’t going to happen again.
I told her it was a mistake. I don’t want her. I want you . I love you .”
He says all of this, staring into my eyes, but he’s lying.
Right to my face.
He didn’t say any of that to her. He gave her his number. He told her he would have bought her breakfast if he could stay. He kissed her goodbye.
I push back off his chest and pry my hand away from his grip. Just the sight of him makes my stomach roil. I have to leave. I have to leave right this very second.
“I never want to see you again.” And with that, I run as fast as I can; through our bedroom, down the hall, past the living room and kitchen until I get to the door.
“No, Grace.” He rushes after me, trying to intercept me before I can leave.
He positions his body between me and the door, his hands outstretched.
“Wait. You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that.
You’re just upset. I made a mistake. I’ll never ever do it again.
I swear to fucking God, I won’t. Please,” he begs, desperately trying to wrap his arms around me again.
I shake my head. “I have to get out of here. I can’t be around you anymore. I can’t even look at you. You disgust me,” I sneer; and with those words, I shove him out of my way. He lets me, his face crumpling, his eyes glossing over.
“We can figure this out,” he murmurs dejectedly. Much of the fight knocked out of him with my harsh words. “I love you.”
Liar .
I run through the door. I don’t look over my shoulder. I don’t look back. I just go. Knowing my life will never be the same again. That everything I thought I had is now gone.