Chapter 6 #2
“We’ve got plenty of time for that,” he said dismissively, then flopped down to sit on the foot of my bed. “Look, I know you’re pissed, but –“, he paused, then shrugged. “You didn’t have to make such a big fucking deal about it. It was just a lap dance, for Christ’s sake.”
“Just a lap dance? Is that supposed to make Melanie feel better?”
His eyes widened incredulously. “You told her?”
“No,” I shook my head, “She doesn’t know yet. I didn’t even try to call her when I got back here because I didn’t know what the fuck to say.”
“Why the hell do you have to say anything? It’s not like you have to confess your supposed sins, for fuck’s sake. I know I call you Saint Ryan sometimes, but you don’t have to take it so literally, man. Why the hell would you put yourself through that kind of ball-busting?”
I took a deep breath, but before I could explode, he continued.
“Repeat after me…what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” he said, emphasizing his words with a wag of his finger as if he were scolding a little kid.
My hands clenched at my sides as I fought the urge to knock the obnoxious smirk right off his face. I couldn’t remember being this angry with him since the clusterfuck surrounding my bachelor party twelve years ago. Unable to look at him, I turned and started pacing the floor.
“Think about it. She hasn’t been blowing up your phone this weekend, which means she’s already pissed off that we made the trip and is giving you the silent treatment. Why make it any worse?”
I shook my head in denial. “First of all, Mel’s not like that.
She doesn’t play games. She’s been putting in a lot of extra hours at the office since they’re trying to win some big account, so she’s probably been busy working this weekend.
” I stopped next to the window and stared blankly out at the view of the Strip, then voiced the thought that had been plaguing me since last night.
“I should have never stepped foot inside that club. How am I going to be able to look her in the eye when I get home and pretend that I didn’t betray her? ”
He rolled his eyes. “Betray her? Oh, come on, that’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? You went to a strip club, not a goddamned Roman orgy, and you were only there for maybe an hour, tops.”
I whirled around and pointed a finger in his face.
“It doesn’t matter what you think about it, my wife will feel that I betrayed her – and our marriage – and she’s right.
I didn’t just go to a strip club, which is bad enough.
Thanks to the fucking, boneheaded stunt you pulled last night, I had a topless woman grinding her ass on my lap. ”
Mitch shot to his feet with a glare. “I bought you a lap dance to chill you the fuck out. Not exactly the crime of the century, dude. Most men would have been grateful.”
“I guess I’m not ‘most men’, because I’m feeling anything but gratitude toward you right now,” I sneered, stepping up toe to toe with him.
“I love my wife, and I made promises to her that I’ve had no goddamned problem keeping for over twelve years.
And in one night, I broke them. I should never have stepped foot in that place.
I should never have had another woman all over me, and I sure as fuck shouldn’t –“.
I stopped my rant mid-sentence, my chest pounding and my stomach heaving.
I took a step back and swallowed hard, trying to force back the bile rising up in my throat.
Mitch had the good sense to look slightly abashed. He also had the good sense to keep his mouth shut for a damned second.
When I felt like I could speak without losing the little food I’d eaten today, I said quietly, “I fucked up. I could barely look at myself in the mirror this morning. There’s no way I can face Melanie and lie to her. The guilt will eat me alive.”
“So you’re gonna hurt her in order to make yourself feel better?
That doesn’t make a damned bit of sense to me,” he shrugged as he shook his head.
“You don’t need to throw yourself on your sword, Saint Ryan.
You’ll just relieve your misplaced guilt at her expense, and that won’t help either one of you.
It will just make it worse, and you know it. ”
I turned away to lift my suitcase off the luggage rack, then paused and glanced back at him over my shoulder as I considered his words.
Seeing that he was getting through to me, he pressed on.
“The fact is, you don’t want to hurt her feelings, so don’t.
Just don’t tell her. You know damned well that I won’t say a word about it to her either.
She’ll never find out, she won’t be hurt, and you won’t be in the shithouse for the foreseeable future.
It’s cold enough in Indiana without her giving you the deep-freeze at home, too.
It would be selfish to unburden myself, knowing how much pain it would cause her, I mused as I thought it over.
As much as I hated the idea of lying to my wife, I hated the idea of hurting her even more.
I just needed to man up and find a way to live with the fact that I’d not only crossed a line that Melanie had drawn in the sand years ago, but I’d also crossed it and lingered for far longer than I should have.
And enjoyed it, my conscience pointed out.
I ignored that little voice in the back of my head and took a deep breath, then squared my shoulders and slowly nodded at Mitch.
“What happens in Vegas…,” he paused expectantly.
“Stays in Vegas,” I finished resignedly.
He flashed me an approving grin and clapped me on the back, the subject settled as far as he was concerned. Without another word, he turned and went to get his duffle bag from his room while I stood there trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing.
After grabbing a quick dinner – which I had to force myself to eat – we arrived at the airport to find that our flight had been delayed by over an hour due to icy conditions in Chicago, where our particular plane was coming in from.
Instead of being annoyed by that fact, I was relieved.
It gave me a little more time to figure out how to act naturally once I came face to face with Mel.
We cooled our heels in the airport lounge.
Mitch flirted with the barista working at the coffee bar in the corner of the room while I got online and secured a dinner reservation for tomorrow night.
I spent the rest of the time mindlessly scrolling through the news sites and social media, anything to keep my thoughts from drifting back to my fuck-up last night.
It was well after midnight before we landed back in Indianapolis, and a little after one o’clock by the time the ride share driver dropped us off at the curb in front of the house.
I was exhausted, mentally as well as physically, and frozen to the bone since I hadn’t taken anything other than a light jacket with me on the trip.
I couldn’t wait to get inside my warm house and out of the cold-as-a-witch’s-tit wind.
I trudged up the driveway, idly wondering why Melanie’s car was parked outside rather than in the garage. I came to a dead stop as I spotted Mitch’s car blocking the garage door.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, then turned to him. “Nice parking job, jackass. I’m sure Mel was thrilled that she had to park outside in the snow all weekend.”
He shrugged, not looking too concerned about causing the inconvenience. “Sorry about that. I was in a hurry when I got here Friday.”
I swallowed a sharp retort, then told him to be careful backing out. “You’ll need to swing out wide and into the grass, so you don’t hit her car,” I warned, hoping that he didn’t leave tire marks in the lawn.
He gave me a careless wave of his hand in acknowledgement, then popped his trunk and tossed his duffel bag inside, before pulling out a snow scraper. I left him to the task of clearing his car windows and bitching under his breath about the weather.
My bare hands shook so much that I had to make two attempts to get my key in the lock. I hurried inside, setting my suitcase down by the door and rubbing my hands together in a valiant attempt to restore the circulation to my frozen digits.
I started toward the stairs, then remembered to grab my toiletries from my bag so I didn’t have to search for them at the ass crack of dawn.
As I made my way upstairs, I halted outside our bedroom door and took a deep breath, willing my nerves to settle before I had to face the woman on the other side of it.
I carefully blanked my expression before easing the door open, only to find Melanie sound asleep.
She was curled up on her side of the bed and burrowed under the covers as always, with only her beautiful face and the top of her head peeking out from the cocoon of bedding surrounding her.
I stood at the foot of the bed for several minutes, just reflecting on how lucky I was to be coming home to her.
The now-familiar wave of guilt hit me as I remembered last night.
I swore I could still feel the imprint of the woman’s tits against my chest, and her hips grinding over me.
To my everlasting shame, I also remembered how – for the briefest of moments – my body had reacted to the rush of sensation and the erotic display of flesh mere centimeters from my face.
A feeling of revulsion ran through me, and I had the desperate need to hold Melanie.
I needed to feel her in my arms, real, warm, and loving, as if that would erase the phantom memory of the other woman’s touch.
I slipped into the bathroom and undressed, then took a quick shower to get rid of the residual sweat from the day mixed with the stale airplane funk that always seemed linger after a flight. I only hoped I could wash away some of my sins as well.