Chapter 5 The Excuses
THE EXCUSES
BECKY
The sounds of my manic pacing echoed around the otherwise silent home.
My hands ran through my hair with frenzied abandon as I wracked my brain for…
something. Standing in the steam of the bathroom for only moments made it go from smooth and sultry to frizzy in no time flat, and the same happened to my mood.
What did I just see? Is it what I think it is?
I didn’t realize how closely I was listening to the sounds of our home until I could no longer hear the shower running in the en-suite. I stopped moving and listened until I could make out the click of the bathroom door opening and closing.
Images of him stepping out of the shower—towel slung low, hair damp, and that clean, masculine scent—flashed unbidden through my mind.
For an instant, I almost smiled at the thought of my soon-to-be husband.
Then the memory turned on me, cruel and sharp.
The sweetness curdled into pain, then into an absolutely maddening and barely controllable rage.
A few more seconds, and the creak of the bed springs let me know he was not coming out to talk to me.
Good.
It was a good thing he went straight to bed after his shower because I had gone straight to the butcher’s block in our kitchen. I had itchy fingers, an abundance of fury, and two names in my head. One of which resided in the same home as me. Conveniently.
It was cliché, but while my man was teetering on the edge of future copulation capabilities, I came to a very clear conclusion: I fucking hated Tay Winky-fucking-face.
It didn’t take mental gymnastics to realize this Tay was Taylor who ruined our date the previous week.
Why was she even a blip on his radar? Could he have been clueless about how inappropriate this was?
Did I tell him? Am I supposed to make this boundary?
He changed her contact to include a nickname and a mother fucking emoji! That’s not friendship. That’s foreplay. Right?
I grabbed the nearest kitchen towel, which smelled suspiciously like fajitas, and screamed wordlessly into it while my dog made a concerned little whine at my feet. My mind and body and heart were all twisting out of my control.
I needed to get my shit together.
But first, I needed to lose my shit.
I needed to rage and break things, including that fucking phone and its owner’s fucking face.
Instead, I buried my face back into my kitchen towel and sat on the floor with my dog.
Deep breaths. I had to calm my racing heart, settle my spiraling mind, and figure out what to do next.
So, I took a few more minutes to practice my deep breathing and successfully snuffed out my homicidal urges for the night and decided that I needed to have a better picture before I went in after him, guns ablazing.
I was exhausted, yet not tired.
I felt icky in my seduction outfit and with the idea of sleeping next to him.
I stood up and started pacing again, considering what I needed. All I came up with was that I needed to feel something good after a day of so much bad.
I decided to change into my generic long shirt short shorts combo, get a container of Nutella, a cup of tea, and a comfort read. I was going to veg in the living room until I fell asleep. First, I had to get my PJs from the bedroom.
Please be asleep. Or maybe please be awake? I wasn’t sure which would make me feel better.
I dragged my feet back to our room and pushed the door open as nonchalantly as possible and…apparently, I psyched myself out for no reason. He didn’t even look up from his phone when I slipped into the room to grab my stuff, and my heart broke a little.
Was he talking to her?
I walked past him, and dug into my dresser drawer, skirting past his items I’d pilfered and instead focusing on my own clothes.
Silently making a pile on top of the dresser of comfort clothes for my night away from my sketchy-ass fiancé, I tried to ignore the fact that he was actively ignoring my existence.
The tap-tapping of his fingers on his screen made me want to break his phone in half.
Instead, I finished gathering everything in hand and plodded back into the guestroom slash office to change.
Comfy clothes on, I wandered back into the kitchen—only to see all of the food I’d ordered still sitting on the island.
We weren’t exactly poor, but we weren’t well off.
We couldn’t let everything go to waste. I put the containers with my goodies in the fridge with some tinfoil wrapped around it and packed Carter’s lunch.
I did not include the egg rolls or chopsticks.
He lost that privilege for…reasons I didn’t want to think about any longer.
A strange clang from the wall told me it was already nine.
The kettle started, my tea was selected, and when I turned to grab my mug, I saw Carter’s favorite mug, with the little ten mm wrench handle, sitting next to my own punny cup. I quietly put it away and looked at my mug, now alone, and my heart hurt a little bit more.
My shoulders were slumped, heavy with the weight of uncertainty as I walked into the living room.
My peppermint tea with cream enveloped me in its comforting scent.
My favorite spot on the couch was illuminated by the perfect reading lamp.
I pulled the freshly washed, fuzzy blanket across my lap and read my go-to Pride and Prejudice late into the night.
The items surrounding me lulled me into a semblance of peace until I calmed enough to fall into a fitful sleep, alone.
?????
“Why the fuck is her name so fucking cutesy in your Goddamn phone?”
I busted into our bedroom at 5:30 in the morning like some kind of demonic rooster—possessed and crowing at the top of my lungs. I was no good at subtlety or patience. Oops.
“Holy, shit, Becky. What time is it?” Carter squinted up at me with a dumb look on his stupid face, the blanket covering the majority of his body.
Wrong question, fucker. I slept off and on for a few hours before finally giving up. I decided we needed about an hour to try and get things sorted before I was left home alone all day losing my mind, and he had another lovely fucking dinner night with her.
“That part doesn’t matter. Where’s your fucking phone?
” I spat out at him. I was shaking where I stood.
Adrenaline coursed through my body, making me fidgety.
I needed this to be resolved, and resolved quickly.
My fists clenched until tiny bursts of pain centered me, my nails slicing into the palms of my hands.
Again, he just blinked at me, and I was losing what smidgeon of patience I had left.
His phone sat on the nightstand, so I snatched it for him.
“Go to her contact while I’m watching.” I said after gently tossing it to him.
“Ouch, what the fuck, Becky. That’s my fucking face.” He dared to complain while lifting the phone from where it bounced off his face. “Who the hell are you talking about, babe. Whose contact?”
“Don’t you fucking call me babe, Carter. Tay Winky-Fucking-Face.” I hissed at him, breathing metaphorical fire into his face. “Find. Her. Info.” I jabbed my finger toward his phone screen with each word in enraged emphasis.
He didn’t even hesitate, even in his half awake state. He went directly there and handed me his phone. That action had gone a long way in easing my fears and anxieties.
“What the hell, Becks. Where’s the fire?” He asked while yawning and stretching out his arms.
So we’re playing it this way.
Looking at his phone, I saw a fairly hefty message stream with this elusive—not elusive enough—Tay.
“Honey, what’s going on? What is all this?” He asked, not quite gently, but not quite accusatory. It was just—something.
I scrolled through the messages and saw they went all the way back to a month ago, and I read.
Him
it’s Carter, from Billy’s Auto Services. Here’s my number for pickup calls.
Tay ;)
thank you so much for the ride! Sorry about all of the confusion.
Tay ;)
hey, I need a ride to and from the shop today, please! :)
Him
Ok. Be there in 30.
Tay ;)
thanks so much!
Three weeks ago
Tay ;)
I’m so sorry, Carter, but my ride fell through. I’m at the gym. I know today isn’t your day to help, but could you get me home? The other guy made me feel uncomfortable.
Him
let me check.
Him
yeah, sure.
Tay ;)
hey sweets, I could use a ride to the store. Mine fell through. Well, they can get me there, but not back. I know today isn’t your day, but I’ll make it up to you!
Him
I can’t leave work, too busy.
Tay ;)
oh, no. I guess I shouldn’t have put off shopping so long. I guess I have some eggs and I can eat around the mold on the toast. I won’t be too hungry until my ride comes through. Thanks for checking!
Him
I can just get you after work.
Tay ;)
oh my goodness, tysm! I can be done around 4:30. I’ll be at Piggies on First. You can call me if you can’t find me :)
Him
Be there 4:30.
Him
I’m here
Tay ;)
oh no, I’m waiting on some meds!
Yeah, I’m sure she was.
I mentally catalogued that exchange to think about later and continued back down to the more recent messages.
Two weeks ago
Tay ;)
there’s a giant tree in my driveway from that storm. :( :’( I can’t go anywhere and nobody can pick me up.
Him
shit, that sucks. Let me see what I can do.
One week ago
Tay ;)
I’m not used to cooking for just me, do you want to take my extras? It’s the least I can do with all your help.
Him
Hell yeah, that’d be great. I’ve been living off fast food the last few weeks.
Tay ;)
Poor thing. I’ll take care of ya xx
Tay ;)
Scary Dr. appointment today.
Tay;)
My car isn’t starting.
Bullshit! I clocked the date and knew what was supposed to be happening when those messages came in. This bitch has an agenda.
As I looked, I noticed an influx of memes and links to videos from her just in the last week.
From what I could see, there was no sign of him initiating.
That isn’t the same thing as innocent. I went to his call log, and there were a handful of phone calls from him to her and her to him, but they seemed to match up to this supposed work help thing. Nothing over thirty seconds or so.
My heart wanted this lack of evidence to be enough to forget about this whole thing. That message wasn’t quite the smoking gun I originally thought it was in context. The things that were there, though? My brain knew better than to drop it; I needed some answers.
I handed the phone back to a quiet Carter.
“Are you eating dinner with a woman who is not your fiancé?” I asked him directly.
Calmly. Apparently having my heart slowly torn from my body, while my mind tried desperately to make sense of everything, could slow down and center my outward chaotic and violent energy. Who knew?
My fiancé, my future husband, looked into my eyes a beat and responded, “Yes, only not the way you’re making it sound.”
The audacity of this fucker.
Deep breath. “I’m not making it sound like anything but a straight up question. If it sounds bad to you when said straight forward that way, maybe it means you’re doing something wrong.”
Silence.
“Why am I not aware that my fiancé is spending this much,” I gesture at the phone in his hand, “time with another woman that I’ve never even met? Time that you haven’t been spending with me.” My voice broke on that last bit. I had to tighten up. No weakness. Not yet.
A look crossed his features that I thought I recognized as guilt.
I blinked and his face was set to a calm neutrality.
"I didn't tell you because it is not a big deal. I didn’t even think it was important enough to bring up. I mean, come on, Becks, do I need your permission to give people rides or accept food from them?”
Breathe in, breathe out. Focus.
“I mean, I will ask if that’s such a big deal to you, Becky.
” He sounded dismissive. His face remained relaxed, like someone who fully believed they did nothing wrong.
If it wasn’t for that flash of—something—on his all-too-familiar visage, I’d think we were discussing putting the dishes away, not possible infidelity.
A conglomeration of gross feelings sloshed around in my belly as he spoke. His calm didn’t pacify me. It concerned me. The avoidance sounded uncomfortably familiar. Like my ex.
I knew, because of what I had learned in my counseling, and my years of dating the level-headed Carter, that I was dangerously close to completely losing it. I was thoroughly into my fight, flight, or freeze response.
If that’s such a big fucking deal? Yeah it’s a big fucking deal, Carter!
His eyes got big, and I realized I said that out loud.
“No, Becks, it’s really not. You need to calm down.”
My jaw dropped.
I turned away before I punched him in the larynx and walked out the door.
Ellie followed. Carter did not.
It wasn’t until later that I realized it.
The dinner text was missing.