T H R E E The Cookie Crumbled
Sarah’s POV
I somehow made it to my car and started it, feeling like I was on autopilot, going through the motions to get somewhere safe.
I didn’t know where I was going at that particular moment, but I knew I had to go, leave .
I couldn’t stay with him . I had to get away from this man who had just crushed every positive thing about the last thirteen years of my life.
The man who tainted all my beautiful memories and broke our family apart.
How could he?! What about our vows?! The promises we made to each other? To the boys?!
My thoughts were racing, and before I knew it, I was pulling into Deveraux’s apartment building, praying he wasn’t at either of his restaurants today.
I hadn’t even called before pulling up. I walked in, feeling like I was in a race to the elevator before I fell apart.
I saw the doorman, Alexander, talking to another tenant as I made my mad dash for the open elevator, waiting to get inside before the door closed, and I was forced to wait.
He noticed me as I walked into the elevator, as Mrs. Thomas from two doors down walked out smiling, that old crinkly smile she gave everyone, at me.
The doors closed on his worried, slightly alarmed face, phone already in hand.
I must have looked truly broken for him to look like that.
I tried to get my eyes to focus on my reflection in the door, but I couldn’t see past the tears that were falling from my eyes as fast as they filled them.
I wiped my eyes and my cheeks, telling myself to put it all to the back of my mind.
Telling myself to get a grip so I could explain what happened to Row.
So he could help me get a plan.
Two minutes later, the doors opened on Row’s floor, at least that’s how I think time worked to get me to the seventh floor, and I walked down the familiar hallway to where his apartment was. My breathing was heavy as my thoughts continued to swirl.
How long had this been going on? Was she the only one? Were there others? Did he have a condom on? When was the last time we had sex? What do I do now?!
I have nothing!
Who did I know who’d gotten divorced in the last few years? Had anyone else I knew gotten divorced because their husband was a cheating prick with a death wish? Had anyone killed their husbands for it? How long of a sentence did they serve? Could I plead temporary insanity?
No.
The boys. I had to remember the boys. They needed me.
They needed one stable parent, since their father wasn’t making sound decisions.
I also had to remember that I don’t look good in orange, but mainly the boys.
They didn’t need one parent dead because their mother snapped.
I froze at the thought of my children. I was only halfway to his door when I froze mid-step.
How was I supposed to tell my boys?
That was the thought that did me in. The moment that everything truly hit home.
The moment that final blow deleted all my HP, and I needed to respawn, but life wasn’t a video game.
I had to keep pushing on. I tried to take another step, but I couldn’t see through the tears that filled my eyes, blurring my vision.
A fatal wound to my heart had been delivered at the thought of not knowing what to tell my children about this.
It seemed this was the time that my knees decided to give up.
They couldn’t handle the full weight of the betrayal and heartbreak in this human sack, letting me crumble.
I felt myself falling, physically and emotionally, with everything that had happened thus far.
The tears fell as I felt myself crumbling, fast .
That mask, that bubble I was in, popped , and now all of what happened was rushing me, and the thoughts of everything changing for my boys.
I was overwhelmed with the emotions surging from me as his infidelity hit, and what that meant for the boys and me.
I felt dizzy, the world tilting when I thought I was standing firm and tall.
How was I supposed to do this?! How could he do this to me?! To us?! To them?!
I heard someone wailing as I was falling, my hands holding my head and my heart, as arms wrapped around me, gripping me tightly.
Those strong arms caught me before I landed on the ground, pain radiating from every pore of my body.
I landed on something firm and warm, something comforting, something that held me through my fall from grace.
“I got you, Sar. I got you, baby girl. Everything’s gon be fine . I gotchu. You’re safe now.”
Soft, calming, comforting words mumbled into my hair as those strong arms held me tightly against his chest, sitting on his lap, legs tangled with mine on the floor in the hallway outside of his apartment.
It was like he was trying to wrap me up from head to toe in comfort and safety.
And, quite honestly, I wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he picked me up like a damn princess I dreamed about being when I was a kid, carrying me into his apartment.
He deposited me on his oversized couch, pulling my coat from me and removing my shoes.
He crouched next to me, asking what happened, if the boys were safe.
The concern and worry, etched on his face.
I knew his mind was probably racing with possibilities.
I was trying to steady my breathing and nodded when he asked about the boys' safety. I couldn’t trust my own voice.
His hands cupped my face, and he looked me in the eyes, searching for anything that would give him a clue as to what was happening.
“I need to know what happened, Baby. I can’t help until you tell me,” he said, his eyes pleading with me, worry covering every spec of his perfectly handsome face.
His thumbs brushed my cheeks as he tried to calm me.
I thought back to what happened, what I saw, and I could feel my heart breaking all over again.
I pulled my phone out and handed it to him, the video already on the screen; he just needed to press play.
He looked from me to my phone. His hands retreated from my face, and the loss of his warmth and strength made me want to crawl back into a ball, hiding myself from the world.
The sounds of my husband and his mistress filled the room as I worked to dissociate, not wanting to hear the sounds of their betrayal again.
It didn’t work. I heard her as she begged him to fill her up, and as he roared a grunt in response.
I heard him walk away and walk back over.
I thought it was done. I thought that was it.
That was when I heard it as clearly as glass shattering into a million pieces, like my heart was now. I heard the muffled voices before, but I was too lost in my own head earlier to listen to what was being said.
“That was such a big load, and I planted that deep inside of you. You better get pregnant off that one, my love,” my husband’s husky voice said, full of need and lust. For another woman, a woman who was not me.
I could feel my breathing pick up, and my heart rate was starting to race as I heard him saying it over and over again in my mind.
You better get pregnant off that one, my love.
I was feeling my chest rise and fall, the pain and heartache were spreading out, coursing through my veins.
The next thing I knew, I was in Row’s long-sleeved black Henley while he stalked off, his tattooed, muscular back to me.
He always gave me his shirts whenever I would start to go into a panic attack, knowing I needed the familiar comforting smells and warmth to bring me back down from my fears, my panic surging through me.
He came back with a brown paper sack, his phone to his ear.
“Use this, Mama,” he kissed the top of my head like he always did, steady and familiar in his actions, then walked back out of the room.
I breathed in and out of the paper bag, curling myself into his shirt, laying down on the mountain of pillows he kept on his couch for me.
I was trying to focus on my breathing, trying to calm myself.
I didn’t know how much time had passed, but I could feel myself calming, my eyelids heavy from the emotional toll the day had taken on me. The last thing I heard was his voice.
“I’m going to pick up the boys. I already called that motherfucker and let him know y'all gonna be with me today. Sleep well, Baby.”
My heavy eyes closed; the emotional exhaustion of learning my husband was actively trying to have a baby with his PA and calling her his love, won out.