Chapter 13
W here the hell was Drew?
Our therapist's appointment was booked for 6 PM and he'd promised me he would leave early to make it on time. It was now 6:15 PM, and he still hadn't texted me back.
I glanced awkwardly at Dr. Fiona who smiled back at me, her expression warm and patient. I’d already apologized profusely for his lateness, but she’d simply waved it off; almost as if she’d expected it.
Did she feel sorry for me? I'd been the one to reach out through phone and email to set up this appointment. I filled out the questionnaire. I was the one who had arrived fifteen minutes early in anticipation. Did she already have a preconceived opinion of Drew? What if she thought I was forcing him to attend? I did give him an ultimatum, but he'd seemed eager to come once I told him I'd booked it in.
Dr. Fiona cleared her throat and picked up her notepad. "How about we get started?"
I sat up straight. "Oh? Really? You - you don't want to wait for Drew?"
"It's okay. We won't discuss why you're here or anything personal. How about you tell me how the two of you met?"
I’d already written all that down in the questionnaire, but there was nothing wrong with killing time.
So I did. I talked about how we met in college, about the first time I turned around and caught this tall, handsome, dark-eyed hottie staring at me like I held the key to his whole happiness. We'd gotten engaged relatively quickly. When you knew, you knew. A year after our engagement, we decided to have a small ceremony before heading to our favorite watering hole for burgers and beers. We'd only invited his mom, my dad, Sene, Nellie, and my mom's older sister, Iolana. She was my favorite aunt and the sibling my mom had been closest to.
Since we were poor college students who'd rather save their money for new film and photography equipment and travels, we were more than happy to have a small, inexpensive wedding. I'd even worn a simple white dress I'd found at a charity shop for forty-five dollars.
"So you two have the same interests?"
"Yeah. We had a lot of fun traveling and combining our skills." Taking photos of a clear night sky, sunsets that never bored us, and historical sites that left us humbled. There were stolen, sweaty nights of frantic love-making under the stars, or even at cheap motels. Sneaky blow jobs in backpacker dorms behind the privacy curtain of our bed. Arms wrapped around each other as we stared in awe from the top of mountains we’d hiked.
But my favorite part of our journey was settling in St Louis, near both our parents, and creating a life together, no matter how simple.
"And now you're a freelance photographer?"
"Yeah, and Drew is the chief marketing officer at a travel agency."
"Are you close with your family?"
I nodded, relaxing a little more despite my eyes constantly turning to the clock behind Dr. Fiona. Where was he?
"Yeah, my dad’s widowed. Drew was also raised by a single mom. His dad's alive, but he's not close to him. They haven't talked in years, and I've never met him. He does have half brothers and sisters, but he's not close with them either."
"That's okay; I'll let Drew talk about his life if he wants to."
I rechecked the time. "Maybe I should –"
A brisk knock rapped at the door, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Drew poked his head through. His gaze met mine before his eyes dropped and he closed the door behind him.
"Sorry, I'm late." His tone was flat and didn’t at all sound apologetic. He dropped heavily beside me on the couch with a sigh.
"Drew, hi.” She gave him a polite smile. "I'm Dr. Fiona. It's nice to meet you."
Instead of answering, Drew shifted around on the couch before leaning back with another quiet sigh. My face heated at his behavior. Was he just tired after a long day at work? I eyed the gap between us, bothered that he kept a small space between our bodies.
His large hand rested on his thigh; the thick black and silver wedding band glittering at me. Why wasn’t he looking at me? Why wasn’t he reaching across to clasp my hand in his?
Dr. Fiona's eyes flickered between us, and I felt the flush continue to climb my cheeks. I'd told her that Drew was a willing participant in our session, that he'd also promised to be here early with me.
“Drew, Frankie was just telling me about how you two met."
His hands rubbed up and down his hard thighs. I could see his mouth curve briefly, as if transported to that simple time in our lives. "I knew she was the one when I first saw her," he softly revealed.
He glanced at me, and for a brief second, I could see the warmth and love behind his gaze. It was a familiar look; one that I’d missed for so long. But just as quickly, the light in his eyes faded, and they swiftly dropped from mine. My stomach plummeted. Something was wrong.
"She also talked a bit about her family. She mentioned that you both have single parents. Frankie's an only child, and you have some half-siblings."
Drew's brow furrowed, and he leaned forward. "Yeah? What else did she talk about while I wasn't here?"
My brows rose at his tone. "She asked about our life together because you were late," I pointed out. I quickly glanced at Dr. Fiona, who watched our exchange with an impassive expression.
"You're the one that wanted to book this."
Red tainted my cheeks again, and I turned my body to face him fully. "Because we need help, Drew. What is your problem?"
Dr. Fiona matched his pose, placing her pad on the table between us. "Let's take a step back," she soothed.
She glanced between us, clocking our physical distance. Drew's jaw clenched as he leaned his elbow on the armrest beside him. His whole demeanor screamed annoyance and boredom. Had I misread him?
Yes, he'd initially been reluctant to attend therapy, but he still readily accepted it. For me. To save our marriage. Now, he was acting like I'd held a gun to his head.
"Drew, I'm sensing that you may not want to be here. Is that assessment correct?"
I clenched my teeth as I waited for his response. It took everything in me not to protest.
He shook his head, and my heart sank. Frustrated tears pricked my eyes. "I don't think we need it, but I'm here now, so," he shrugged, scratching his jaw.
"Okay. Well, your wife has expressed a desire to seek help. This is clearly important to her." She glanced at me, and for a moment, I thought about flipping Drew off and storming out. But that wouldn't look good.
I glanced at my husband's profile, needing to remind myself that I loved this man. Despite the last few months of heartache and tears, I wanted to fix this. Even if it seemed like I was the only one who did. I turned to Dr. Fiona and gave her a tight nod.
"Drew? Would you also like to continue?"
I stared ahead, not wanting to see his response. The breath I held released slowly at Dr. Fiona’s small smile and nod.
"Okay, let's start again. Drew, Frankie filled out a questionnaire, but I can see that you only half filled out yours."
He rubbed his chin. "Yeah, sorry. I've been, uh, busy with work. I meant to finish it."
"That's okay. It's quite lengthy."
It wasn't too lengthy for me. But then again, I, apparently, was the only one who cared about our marriage.
"Frankie mentioned in her questionnaire about some of the struggles she's facing in your marriage. Frankie, would you like to talk to your husband about that?"
Not really.
But I was here now, and despite Drew's sour mood, I wanted to make the most of our session. Right now, I was too upset to speak, but I took several breaths to try and keep the tears at bay.
"We're fighting all the time, and I honestly don't know why. Everything I say seems to annoy him." A tear fell, and I brushed it aside. "I don't know what I've done wrong."
"You haven't done anything wrong, Frankie." Drew reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. He finally turned to look at me, and what I saw there almost destroyed me. Agony. Guilt.
"Do you agree with what she's saying, Drew? Are you fighting all the time?" Dr. Fiona asked.
"Yeah." He raked a hand through his hair. "I don't know. It's my fault."
"Why do you say that?"
He went quiet before he released my hand. I felt the distance again between us. When he refused to answer, Dr. Fiona glanced at me.
"Frankie, what do you think about what Drew said?"
What did I think? There wasn't much to go on since he'd barely said anything.
"Maybe he thinks it's his fault because of what led to me booking this session. Our issues as a couple have been going on for a while, but it wasn't until an incident that happened recently that I decided to seek help."
Drew shifted away again, his wall of armor now fully cloaked. I could sense his discomfort, but still, I pushed on.
"He lied to me a couple of weeks ago. There's a woman he works with who I feel uncomfortable with. I've expressed my concern to him multiple times, so he knows my feelings about her. Yet he continuously spends time with her outside work and entertains messages from her." The more I spoke, the angrier I became as I remembered all the red flags I’d batted away.
"I've never gone out with her on our own. It's always with a work group," Drew protested.
I snorted and Dr. Fiona held her hand up. "Drew, you'll get your chance to respond. Right now, let's listen first to what your wife has to say."
She looked at me and nodded to continue. "He went away for work one weekend. I asked him if she'd be there, and he purposely omitted it. It wasn't until he video-called me from the hotel that I found out. She popped up on the video call."
Dr. Fiona's brow raised, and Drew quickly interjected. "I was at the hotel restaurant having breakfast. And not with her."
"But what your wife just said, is that true? Did you lie about her being there?"
"It was a lie by omission. I didn't want her to worry because I knew she wouldn't like it. It was a work trip, I don't decide who comes on it. There was no point in worrying her."
"Can you see how that would have still hurt your wife? Even if you thought she would never find out, secrets and untruths can hurt your marriage."
I was getting really sick of that tired sigh he kept breathing. "Yeah," he finally admitted. "I knew I'd made a mistake. I apologized to Frankie as soon as I came home. But she still wanted to do this."
She turned to me. "Frankie. How did you find his apology?"
"It felt like a bandaid. He's been short with me a lot for months—and every time he apologizes nothing changes. Carly—that's his co-worker—is just one small issue in a great big pile of bigger ones."
Dr. Fiona looked at Drew for clarification, but he remained silent.
Fuck it. I'd do it for him if he didn't have the guts. "Whenever I start talking about the next stage in our marriage, he balks."
"And what is the next stage?"
"Having children."
Drew breathed deeply beside me but still didn't object.
"When we first got together, we talked about starting a family –"
"No, you talked about it."
I turned to him, my brows raised in surprise. "What do you mean?" He’d alluded to this before, but never expanded.
"You told me you wanted kids; you never asked me if that's what I wanted."
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Frankie," Dr. Fiona warned.
I shook my head. "You never said you didn't! At least I was open about what I wanted and saw for our future."
Dr. Fiona interjected. "Drew? Is it true that Frankie discussed this with you?"
"Yeah. And I didn't say anything because I thought I'd eventually feel different." I made a noise in my throat. Disbelief. Anger. Embarrassment that Dr. Fiona had to witness this.
"And you still don't?"
Again, there was a delay in his response. My heart was almost beating out of my chest; mostly from shock at his confession, but also from a simmering layer of rage.
"No," he finally said. "No, Frankie. I'm sorry, but I don't want kids."
I shook my head and sat back in defeat. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even look at him. Who was this man? I thought back to our conversations about children and our future. I'd talked openly about it, but now I could recall Drew's indulgent smiles as I chatted on. He didn't say he wanted kids, but he still knew that it was something I wanted.
"Frankie? How are you feeling?"
I shook my head and stood. I had to get out of here. There were too many betrayals and lies at one time, and I couldn't process it. I wanted to come to this session with an open heart and mind, ready to knuckle down and talk through our problems. But now that he'd dropped this bombshell, I just wanted to leave.
"I'm sorry. I-I can't do this right now."
"Frankie…" Drew stood with me. I moved away from his touch.
"I'm sorry," I said again to Dr. Fiona before opening the door and storming out.
I flew through the waiting room, ignoring the surprised glance from the receptionist. My hands were all thumbs as I fumbled with the glass front doors before finally pushing it open into the cool evening. I welcomed the cold wind whipping my face as I swallowed choppy gulps of fresh air.
Drew was hot on my heels. "Frankie, Frankie, wait."
"Not here," I managed to grit out between breaths. I finally understood what it must feel like to have a panic attack. "In your car."
He quickly followed me, dropping his keys in his rush to unlock his door. I jerked the passenger side open and climbed in with a sharp slam. He hopped in next to me, closing his door softly.
The scent of his aftershave usually comforted me—but now, it just made me feel sick. Looking at him made me feel sick. All these months, he'd evaded me, made me feel like shit, and watched me cry as I asked him if we were okay. And all this time, he'd been hiding something pretty fucking big.
The silence between us hummed with a heavy swirl of rigid emotion. Me: anger. Him: regret.
I finally broke the silence. "Why were you late?"
"I-I needed to clear my head. I was anxious about this session, so I went for a drive."
A sound of disbelief escaped me. "Do you even care about this marriage at all?"
"Of course I do! I went to this session for you."
For you. That was the key phrase.
"You were late, and you barely apologized. You then had an attitude the whole time before dropping a bomb on me."
His hands gripped the steering wheel, his face hardened. "I don't know what to say," he gritted out.
"I don't know what to say to you either."
We went home separately and I went straight upstairs to shower. My appetite was shot, so I didn't go back downstairs. I turned off all the lights and climbed into bed. My body felt heavy; weak and tired. Like I’d ran an obstacle course without training and was now suffering the consequences. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks but I didn’t have the energy to swipe them away.
A long time later, I heard him finally open the door and cautiously pad into the room. He approached the bed slowly before he softly called my name. I pretended to sleep even though I knew he knew I was awake. I didn't have the emotional capacity to deal with him right now. I just wanted to sleep and hope to reset the day. Or wake up and realize that this had all been a bad dream.
The next morning, I woke up slower than usual. My mind was groggy and my body still felt like it had been in battle. I was glad I didn’t have a shoot today. There was no way I could focus with the way I currently felt.
When I went downstairs, I expected Drew to have already left for work. He didn't come to bed, so I assumed he went to the spare room or the couch. He could sleep on the street for all I cared. So it was a complete surprise when I spotted Drew sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me. He was in a grey t-shirt and sweatpants. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his hair was a rumpled mess. It appeared he had the same night I had.
"I need to tell you something." His gaze was on the table, refusing to meet mine.
I stood where I was, eyeing him warily. I was annoyed that he was here, invading my peace. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him right now. "What is it?"
"It's about Carly."
My breath sucked in sharply, unprepared for that statement. A foreboding shadow spread across my chest, numbing me. "What about her?" I slowly asked.
He clasped his hands together. "I want to be honest. I'm sorry that I've been an ass to you about her. I should've listened to your concerns."
I slowly approached him. For so long I’d wanted to hear him acknowledge my issues with Carly; about their closeness and inappropriate friendship. But something in his tone felt odd.
"Why are you telling me this now?"
He glanced up at me. "Because you were right. I've never felt anything but friendship for her, but I can’t deny that we’ve become…closer during the last few months."
The blood drained from my face, and I took a fumbling step back.
He rose from his seat, finally looking me in the eye. He held his hands up. "There's been nothing romantic between us. I admit to some light flirting, which I thought was harmless, but I can now see how wrong it was."
My legs felt like jell-o, but I stood there; motionless—waiting for him to finish. Was I mad about the "light flirting"? Of course, I was. Especially when she was young, pretty, and clearly attracted to him. But something in Drew's tone kept me silent. Like that wasn’t the worst of it.
He let out a breath, and his eyes dropped to the table again. "On the trip…something happened."
Do you hear that? That was my heart shattering into a million pieces. The weight of his confession had me staggering forward, clasping a chair. I pressed a hand to my chest. " Oh, my God. "
He moved around the table, his eyes pleading with me to listen. "Nothing happened. We didn’t kiss or have…” He shook his head. " Nothing happened."
"But something did happen." Tears clogged my throat as I waited for his response.
He scrubbed a hand down his face before nodding. "We had a moment." His voice was so small, I almost didn’t hear him.
" A moment? " Were we in high school talking about our first crush? "What does that mean?"
"On Saturday night, we were supposed to meet up in Carly's room for drinks before dinner. Carly assured me that all of us would be in her room. I wasn't planning to go to dinner but wanted to celebrate a successful day with the team. But when I got there, it was only Carly. The others had canceled."
I scoffed but didn't say anything. I would bet my bottom dollar that the others were never invited to her room. God, he couldn't be that bone-headed?
"So tell me…did you leave when you realized it would be just the two of you in her hotel room?"
His mouth tightened, and visible shame bloomed on his face.
No. Of course, he didn't.
"I should've left. I wish I had. But I stayed for a drink, and we got to talking."
"And what did you talk about?" I couldn’t keep the bitter sarcasm out of my voice.
"I told her that I didn't want kids."
A choked sob escaped me. "Yo-you talked to her about something you refused to talk to me about?" The betrayal overwhelmed me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
"I'm sorry, Frankie, I'm sorry. It was stupid. I should never have said anything. I'm sorry."
His apologies didn't sway me. I was sick to death of his empty apologies. They meant nothing to me anymore. "What else happened?" I needed to know. Despite the pain threatening to crush me, I needed to know.
“Sh-she started talking about how there was something between us. And then…and then she leaned in and knew she wanted to kiss me."
He glanced at me. "But I didn't. I moved away and immediately left."
"But you were tempted." He didn’t need to say it. I knew.
His eyes closed, and a tear slipped down his cheek. "Briefly. Yes. I was tempted. The moment was heated…not in that way! I'd just confessed to having issues in our marriage, something I know I shouldn't have. I'm not saying she caught me in a weak moment, but I promise you that I would never have crossed that line with her. I love you, Frankie. I do."
Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I angrily swiped them away. His betrayal devastated me.
"So why are you telling me all this? There has to be a reason." Did he have a change of heart about the therapy? Was that why he decided to be honest?
"I’ve avoided her at work since that trip. No calls, texts or drinks out—nothing.” He took a shuddering breath. “But then she ambushed me at my desk when everyone was out at lunch. Some of the things she said made me realize that I needed to come clean with you."
"How nice that your girlfriend was the one to get you to open up," I sneered.
"She's not my girlfriend."
I rolled my eyes. "So what things did she "make you realize "?"
"That if things were okay between us, then things never should’ve gone that far with her. That our marriage couldn't survive if I wasn't honest."
Maybe I should've paid the two hundred dollars to Carly instead of Dr. Fiona.
"And what do you think?"
He blew his breath out. "What she said made some sense to me."
My brow pulled down and a trickle of unease slid down my spine. "What are you saying?"
Another tear slipped down his cheek, and he brushed it aside. Apart from our wedding day, I'd never seen Drew cry before. "I think we need time apart. Just to sort our heads out and decide what we want."
My breath hitched. He wanted a separation? "Are you leaving me for Carly?"
"No! I'm not doing this to date her or anyone else. I don't want her. But you and I…we want different things. I'm so sorry that I never told you sooner. I truly thought I would change my mind when it came to children. I don't want them and don't think I ever will. I know how important family is to you. I know how much you want children, and it was causing a lot of arguments between us."
"Because you wouldn't open up to me! Because you kept making me feel like I was crazy when you claimed nothing was wrong. Because you kept denying that you were having an affair with Carly."
"I never had an affair with her!" he vehemently denied. "Nothing happened."
"Newsflash, Andrew! When you're texting another woman, when you see her more than you see your wife, when you're telling her personal things about our marriage—things you never opened up to me about— that's an affair. Giving your time and attention to another woman is an affair."
"Frankie –" he reached out, but I jerked out of reach.
"Don't touch me. You're a lying fucking asshole."
He flinched. "I'm sorry," he kept saying.
I shook my head and wiped at the tears that were falling fast.
"I don't know what I want, but I know it's not working being in each other's space like this."
"Not working when you're entertaining another woman, too," I bitterly retorted.
"Frankie –"
"So, what, we separate and date other people? Explore our options, decide if I want to procreate with another man, and you decide if you want an easy life with your co-worker that you already see more than me?"
"Frankie –"
"You know, you never actually asked me what I want, Drew. You just assumed that having kids was a deal breaker, and I would give you up for them. But while you were "almost kissing" your co-worker and deciding by yourself that this was too hard; I always knew what I wanted. Not a house, not a career, not kids. You , Drew. All I ever wanted was you."
His mouth opened and closed, his face paling further. I shook my head in disgust. "I'm staying at Nellie's tonight while you pack your shit. Since you're the one that wants to split, you can leave.
With shaky legs, I went upstairs to pack an overnight bag.
This was worse than a bad dream. This was a nightmare.