Chapter Six
Jess
At some point in the night, I drag myself to our bedroom.
I don’t even remember deciding to move. One minute I’m sitting on the couch staring at the front door, the next I’m curled up on our bed, still in my clothes, still crying.
The tears haven’t really stopped since Logan stormed out.
He hasn’t answered a single call. His phone goes straight to voicemail, and at some point his location turned off. I’ve checked so many times that the screen on my phone feels burned into my eyes.
He’s not at Darren’s. I already called with a story, I know he didn’t buy.
And I know Logan well enough to know he wouldn’t go to either of his parents’ houses. Not with something like this.
“Fuck,” I whisper, slipping off the bed and walking to the bedroom window.
Where is he?
My stomach churns at the thought of what he could be doing. Where he could be. Who he could be with.
I’ve been where he is now. I know exactly what that helpless, hollow feeling is like, being hurt by the person you love the most.
That night, all those months ago, I didn’t walk into that bar planning to hook up with the bartender in a back room.
I just wanted to hurt Logan. I wanted him to feel what I felt. And in a twisted, awful way, it worked.
Not how I intended. But it worked.
After it happened, I convinced myself we were even. That the scales were balanced again. That we could finally move on.
What I didn’t count on was the guilt.
No one tells you how heavy it is. How it creeps into every quiet moment. How it sits on your chest and makes it hard to breathe.
Every time Logan apologized, I felt like scum.
So many times I came close to confessing. The words would be right there on my tongue, ready to fall out, and then something would stop me.
Fear. Shame. Self-preservation.
Not today, though.
I didn’t plan on confessing. I didn’t wake up thinking, tonight I’m going to blow up my marriage.
It just… happened.
“God,” I whisper, pushing myself off the bed and walking into the closet to change.
That seems to be my new motto lately.
It just happened.
Walking back into the bedroom, I glance at the clock.
Quarter to three.
At least it’s Saturday tomorrow.
Then the next thought hits me like a punch.
Next week.
I could’ve at least given him one more week. One normal week. One last stretch of family time before imploding our entire world.
Logan was going to show me the ropes again, help me get caught up with the business. We were supposed to have some family time before settling into a new routine.
We were going to make a snowman.
Be a family.
Instead, I’m alone in the middle of the night, while my husband is out there probably getting even.
Dropping to the floor beside the bed, I lean my back against the frame.
“What did I do?” I whisper to the empty room.
The bedroom door creaks open.
I sit up fast, my heart jumping, thinking it’s Logan.
It isn’t.
Bell pads in quietly, nails clicking on the hardwood as she makes her way over to me.
I slump back down.
“Hey, baby,” I murmur.
She presses her head against my chest, and I run a hand over her fur. Bell usually sleeps with Myles while Ty claims River’s bed, so she must’ve heard me moving around and come to check on me.
Even the dog knows something’s wrong.
A sob breaks free before I can stop it.
I bury my face against her neck and muffle the sound in her fur.
I should’ve told him then.
We were already in counseling. We were sitting in that office every week, talking about our faults, well his faults, but I could’ve just… said it. Thrown my own sin into the ring and let everything fall apart at once.
Instead, I stayed quiet.
I sat back and let him be the bad guy.
I let him carry all the blame while I played the wounded wife, knowing full well I wasn’t innocent anymore either.
I press my forehead harder into Bell’s warm coat, wishing for a rewind button, for some way to crawl back in time and make different choices.
I must’ve dozed off, because the next thing I know, I’m being woken by the sound of giggles.
Little boy giggles.
My eyes blink open, the early morning light sneaking through the curtains. For a second I’m confused, disoriented, until the ache in my neck reminds me I fell asleep on the floor.
I groan as I sit up fully.
Sleeping on the floor is definitely a young woman’s game.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I listen harder. The giggles are coming from the kitchen. Loud, happy, mischievous giggles.
Which means trouble.
Bracing myself for whatever disaster my children have managed to create while I was unconscious, I push to my feet and head down the hall.
Smelling melting butter, I round the corner into the kitchen. And the sight damn near knocks me on my ass.
There, on the counter, sit Myles and River in their pajamas, legs swinging, watching their father whisk eggs in a bowl.
He’s home.
Relief floods through me so fast I have to grab the doorframe to steady myself.
For a second, I just stand there, taking it in. The normalcy of it. The easy domestic scene. It almost feels like nothing happened.
But the way Logan’s shoulders stiffen, just slightly, tells me this isn’t even close to being over.
He doesn’t look at me.
He keeps his attention on the boys and the breakfast in front of him, like I’m not even in the room.
Unsure of what I’m supposed to do, I just stand there.
A stranger in my own home.
Ty starts scratching at the back door, so I walk over, unlock it, and let him out.
Bell trots right past me without a glance.
“Rude,” I mutter under my breath.
Rolling my eyes, I close the door again. It’s too cold to leave it open, and both dogs are more than capable of letting themselves back in.
When I turn around, Logan’s jaw is even more tight, his movements stiffer.
For a second I seriously consider grabbing a coat and stepping outside into the cold just to escape the tension in the room.
Before I can decide, River pipes up.
“Mommy, down.”
I force a smile and move to him, lifting him gently from the counter and setting him on the floor.
Then I glance at Logan, “Where were you?”
He doesn’t look up. “Not now.”
The finality in his voice makes me flinch.
I catch Myles watching us with wide, curious eyes, and I swallow the rest of my questions.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Not now.
Logan
It takes every ounce of love I have for my children to get through breakfast.
River chatters nonstop, completely oblivious, while Myles keeps glancing between Jess and me with those big, assessing eyes of his. He’s only five, but the way he’s watching us makes it feel like he knows something’s off.
My forced smile is just starting to slip when my phone buzzes with a text.
Relieved for the distraction, I push back from the counter and start collecting plates.
“Okay, boys,” I say, clapping my hands together. “I’ve got a surprise for y’all.”
Both of them look at me with instantly hopeful expressions.
Jess looks confused, but I ignore her for now.
Right on cue, there’s a knock at the door.
“Well, who could that be?” I ask.
The boys take off running. I watch as Myles stretches up to unlock the door, and the second it swings open, he bursts out, “Grandpa!”
My dad crouches down just in time for Myles to launch himself into his arms while River hugs the door while slightly hiding behind it.
I walk over as he laughs and says, “Boys’ Day at Grandpa’s!”
“Don’t forget me,” Manuel adds, stepping into view with a small wave.
I bite back the automatic surge of dislike that rises up whenever I see him and force myself to shake his hand.
I know what happened with my parents isn’t on him.
Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
My father wasn’t some closeted man who married my mom for appearances. Their story is a lot weirder than that.
Jess helps the boys into their coats, acting like she was in on the plan and it wasn’t just sprung on her two minutes ago.
My dad turns on the charm with her the way he always does.
Manuel, on the other hand is cold. Barely more than a nod in her direction.
It makes me like him a little more.
Last night, after I got some sage advice from a stranger, I knew I wasn’t ready to go home. I still have no idea how, but I ended up at my dad’s.
Manuel being there almost made me turn around. But I couldn’t exactly go to Darren’s with him being married to Jess’s best friend, and my mom was out of the question too.
So I stayed.
I told my dad everything. He listened. Asked if I’d consider counseling again.
Manuel, on the other hand, muttered something about not staying in an unhappy marriage like my dad.
I’d been too drunk to say anything then.
I’m not now.
Still, I don’t say anything when he ignores Jess’s question.
Just yesterday, I would’ve kicked him out of my house for disrespecting her like that.
Today… I don’t seem to care at all.
Haley said I’m in shock. That I’m reacting instead of thinking, and that I shouldn’t make any hasty decisions right now.
I’m not taking that advice.
Jess made me pay for a year while knowing she was the one at fault.
And I’m supposed to slow down and be reasonable?
Yeah. No.
Not this time.
Once the kids are gone, I walk back toward the kitchen.
God, I’d kill for a scotch right now, but last night’s binge is still pounding in my head.
Bypassing the counter, I drop into a chair at the kitchen table instead.
Jess follows me in and starts clearing the rest of the dishes like nothing is wrong.
I sit there with my arms crossed, waiting for her to face me.
When the tap turns on, I finally snap.
“Sit, Jess.”
She keeps her back to me. “The dishes will only take-”
“I said sit.”
She hesitates, then lets out a breath and turns the water off. Slowly, she dries her hands and takes the seat across from me.
I clear my throat, suddenly unsure what to say now that she’s actually here.
We sit like that for a moment.
Me staring at the woman I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with.
Her refusing to even look in my direction.
“Why?” I finally ask.
Her eyes flicker to mine for a split second before darting away again.
“Look at me,” I say.
She doesn’t.
“Jess.” My fist hits the table. “Look at me.”
She jumps, startled, and finally turns her face toward me.
“You did it,” I say, my voice tight. “At least have the decency to look me in the eye.”
She swallows hard.
“Why?” I ask again.
“I went to the bar-”
“No.” I cut her off before she can say anymore. I’m not ready to hear about her fucking a stranger. “That’s not what I’m asking.”
She falls silent.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand. “Why did you let me feel like scum for a year while you-”
I stop, unable to finish the sentence.
She stares at me. “You’re mad I didn’t tell you?” she asks slowly.
“Yes,” I yell. “Yes, I’m mad.”
I lean forward, gripping the edge of the table.
“I’m mad that my wife-” I spit the word out, “let everyone believe she was the wronged party for eleven fucking months while she was the one who’d spread her legs for a stranger.”
I lean forward, gripping the edge of the table.
Jess pales, but she still doesn’t say anything.
I stand up so fast my chair scrapes against the floor and slam both hands onto the table.
“Answer me!”
She jumps.
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “Okay? I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough,” I snap.
“I was going to tell you,” she says, wiping at her tears. “I just… I thought we were even.”
“Even?” I repeat, stunned. “You thought me kissing another woman is the same as you-” I can’t even finish the sentence.
She lets out a humorless laugh. “It wasn’t just a kiss, Logan. You know it, and I know it. That’s why I went there in the first place.”
“Went where?” I ask, dropping back into my chair.
“I went to Parkway,” she says quietly.
“Lenore’s building?” I ask, confused.
Jess nods. “She wouldn’t see me. Security wouldn’t even let me in. So, I went to the bar across the street to wait her out.”
Her voice gets smaller.
“Only… I ended up drinking. A lot.”
A cold knot forms in my stomach.
“How drunk were you?” I ask.
She looks down. “I’d sobered up when...”
“Right,” I mutter, looking away.
“Logan,” she says suddenly, reaching across the table and placing her hand over mine. “You have to know it wasn’t what you think. I swear, I didn’t even realize what we were doing, and when I did—”
“Shut up,” I grit out. “Just shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”
I stare at her hand like it doesn’t belong there. Like I don’t recognize it.
Then I pull mine away.
“Logan,” she cries. “We can get through this, okay? We’ll go back to therapy. Please.”
“If you’d told me a year ago,” I say slowly, carefully, “I would’ve said yes. I would’ve even felt partly responsible.”
I meet her eyes.
“But now?”
I shake my head.
“Now I never want to see you again.”