Chapter 23
I want a divorce.
Her words bounced around my head repetitively, refusing to settle. I searched her tear-stained, red face as she wiped the remaining wetness from underneath her eyes. Maybe she hadn't said it. Maybe I misheard her, and she'd uttered something else that had the blood draining from my face.
But then Frankie gave one last sniff before she lifted her head and fixed me with a look I hadn't seen from her before. Hardened. Determined. And a little bit of hatred.
I sucked in a breath and fell back on my ass before scrambling upright.
"What?" I whispered. I clutched onto the back of one of the chairs, needing the extra support.
Her chin lifted, and her stare didn't drop from mine this time. "I want a divorce."
A dagger to the heart would've been less painful than hearing those words from my wife.
"Frankie –"
"You've been lying to me, Drew. And I'm not talking about before you asked for a separation."
My eyes closed at the reminder. The reminder that I was the one who asked to take a break. Frankie had wanted to hold on despite my confessions. Despite my betrayal.
When I remained quiet, Frankie pushed on. "When you told me you weren't dating or seeing Carly, I knew that was a lie."
My head shot up before I shook my head in denial. "Wha-what?"
Her bee-stung lips twisted to the side, and her dark eyes flashed in disappointment. "Her social media profile is open, Drew. She took a picture of you two out to Isla's for dinner. She hashtagged it as "date night."
Shit.
Shit fucking shit.
I closed my eyes in shame, cursing myself over and over for my stupidity. Since I'd cut ties with Carly, she'd given me the cold shoulder. Anytime I needed to talk to her about work, she'd give me one-word responses or communicate via email. I was relieved. I didn't want to deal with her overly familiar comments or touches under the guise of friendship. I went to work, did my job, and went back to Sene's.
I was a fucking idiot to think that that dinner could be kept a secret from Frankie. I was a fucking fool.
"What, nothing to say?" Frankie folded her arms and arched her brow at me. She was rightly pissed.
And she was also entirely in the right. I had lied to her.
I ran a frantic hand through my hair. A very real panic that I’d lost my wife for good started to settle like an unwanted creature in my stomach. A bead of sweat trickled down my back.
"Frankie—th-that. Yes, I did agree to go out with her. I'm so -"
"Don't." She sliced her hand in the air, silencing my stuttering. "Don't insult me by apologizing again. Your apologies don't mean anything to me anymore. They're just empty words."
I slid onto the seat next to her, wincing when she flinched away from me. "Frankie, let me explain. Please."
Shook her head. "No. All you do is lie, cheat, and deceive. I've done nothing to deserve this." Her voice cracked, causing my own eyes to fill with tears.
I reached out and clasped her hand, but she immediately and violently wrenched away from me. My heart dropped straight to my stomach, her rejection wounding me like nothing had ever done before. I used to be her safe space. The person she turned to for comfort. Now, she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
I tried not to let the fear show on my face, but inside, I was shitting myself. All the characteristics she'd just described, I couldn't deny.
"Like an idiot, I've worked hard to get us back on track," she continued. "But you cut me down each time. I've had enough. I have other things to worry about now, and they don't include an unfaithful, lying husband."
A tear escaped my eye as her words punched at me. The way she spoke; her words heartbroken but her voice steady and determined, struck a dread in me that I wasn't ready to accept. I shifted closer, forcing myself to keep going even though her body had completely closed itself off to me.
"Wait, please," I pleaded. "Frankie, I know I've treated you badly, lied, and betrayed you, but I love you so much. That has never changed. I'm willing to go to counseling. For real this time. I'll do anything to try and fix this. Please don't give up on me yet."
"I slept with someone."
My mouth snapped shut. I stared at her profile as a red tint climbed her cheeks. This time, she kept her gaze averted from mine.
"Wha-what?" I breathed. There was no mistaking what she'd just said.
I slept with someone.
"When I was in Mexico." Her eyes dropped to the table, her delicate fingers playing with the rim of her plate. "After I saw your little date night post from your girlfriend, I knew our marriage was over. I got drunk with someone I met on the trip, and I slept with him. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but I want to be honest." Her voice was bitter, and I knew that last sentence was a dig at me. Honest like I hadn't been.
The quiet stretched between us. Not because I didn't know what to say, but because bile was threatening to come up my throat. I was afraid I'd puke all over her bagel if I spoke. I breathed deeply and swallowed down the lump in my throat until I was satisfied that the granola bar I'd had earlier wouldn't make a reappearance.
"Ho-how many times?" I rasped.
"It was a one-night stand. I left Puerto Vallarta the next day and carried on traveling. I haven't spoken to him since."
And she never would if I had anything to do with it. My fist clenched as visions of Frankie lost in the throes of sexual release with someone other than me…fuck, that sick was starting to climb up again. As I processed my emotions, I forced my thoughts away from those repellent images. My overwhelming jealousy. My disgust and anger.
Because I was pissed.
And I wanted to be pissed at Frankie. I wanted to direct this fury at her. How could she? How could my wife even fathom sharing her body with…anybody else? I wanted to rant and rave at her, but the cold, harsh truth was—-I couldn't. The only person to blame in this scenario was me.
"Um…okay," I swallowed thickly. "I need a little time to process this. It doesn't change how I feel -"
"There's more."
My gut clenched, and my heart cracked a little more. "You slept with more guys?" Now I really was going to throw up.
"No. Just the one. But it left a lasting effect."
It took a moment to comprehend, but soon, an understanding washed over me. Ah, shit, she'd picked up an STI. I could handle that; we could still work through it if Frankie were willing. Sure, it felt like my heart was being smashed into smithereens at the thought of another man's hands on my woman, but it was nothing compared to the angst I put her through with my actions while we were married. I didn't want to know any details about him , but if this was going to work, we needed to –
"I'm pregnant."
What? "What?"
Her lips quivered before they rolled in. She took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant," she repeated.
Pregnant.
Frankie was pregnant.
An all-consuming wave of joy and peace washed over me. The tension in my shoulders bled away as I welcomed this new feeling.
Pregnant. She was pregnant. My wife was pregnant. I couldn't describe my feelings, but this lightness could be processed later. Right now, my wife just announced that I was going to be a dad.
But then I glanced at Frankie. I took in her pale face and her downcast gaze. I spied a wobble in her chin before her hand slid over her stomach in a protective gesture.
Then it hit me.
"...it left a lasting effect…"
My eyes fell to her stomach. To her still-flat stomach.
When did we last have sex? Before we were separated…three months ago. And before that…I couldn't even remember.
That meant…
“No. No, no, no. Frankie, no.”
A sob escaped her before she shook her head and dropped it to her chest.
I stood up so fast that my chair flipped back. Black dots lined my vision as I swayed on my feet. I stumbled to the downstairs toilet and promptly threw up.