CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
“I don’t think so. And it’s interesting that you only got mad when I called your ‘friend’ a name.
” He started to say something else but closed his mouth when he saw the look on my face.
“Let me tell you what I do each night. I make dinner, always sure to keep a plate warm for you when you don’t show up until the kids are already in bed.
I do the bedtime routine alone. Bath, pajamas, teeth brushed, picking out clothes for the next day, bedtime stories, bedtime songs, and so on.
All by myself. Then I pick up all the evidence of the day—toys, books, blankets, crayons, whatever—to make sure the house is nice when you get home.
Then I read or watch TV while I wait for you to show up.
” I give him a pointed look. “Our house is so very busy, for me and the kids, while you enjoy an expensive, quiet dinner with a beautiful woman. Or, while I’m tucking our children in each night, you’re either on the phone with her or texting her. ”
His head shot up. “We don’t text,” he lied. He wasn’t very convincing, but the fact that he would still lie, even after I’d confronted him with everything else told me a lot.
“Yes, you do.” I pulled out the stack of papers I’d printed. They were full of every text message I’d read until I was too heartsick to look at any more of them. I pushed them towards him.
He blanched, this time looking truly sick.
“I found your hidden app. Go ahead. Look through them,” I encouraged.
“I sure have. It’s nice to know my husband doesn’t think too highly of me and enjoys pointing that out to his…
mistress? Soon to be second wife?” I leaned in, noting the look of horror on his face as he realized I’d read everything the two of them had said to each other.
“I’m not sure what you want to call her since ‘side piece’ isn’t a good enough term for the woman you love. ”
“You’re the woman I love,” he choked out.
“Not according to the texts you sent Scarlett. You didn’t love me when we got married. You told her you ‘loved’ me now in the same text thread where you pointed out how annoying my habit of talking too much was. That doesn’t sound like love to me. Does it to you?”
He shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “But I do. Love you.”
I chuckled without mirth. “Sure, you do. You show it by forgetting every birthday, anniversary, and children’s birthday while giving your lady love jewelry sets worth thousands of dollars.”
“Oh my God,” he whispered to himself. “I can explain. I told you, that was for administrative assistant day…”
“Oh, fuck you, Scott! You’ve never even given me a Mother’s Day gift. Not once,” I shouted, surprising even myself. I jumped up and grabbed my glass of wine, pacing while I drank. “I’m not a moron—even though I apparently lack ambition and have poor self-esteem.”
He winced, recognizing his own words being thrown back at him.
“There’s not a boss in the world who gives a woman a gift like that innocently. And you had the audacity to do it in front of the entire town and then tried to make me feel bad for being upset about it. You’re really unbelievable.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he pleaded, his beautiful brown eyes liquid with unshed tears. I was surprised he cared enough to cry. He was probably crying thinking of the money he was going to have to give me in the divorce.
“That’s not going to be good enough. You have to know that.”
He stood up and tried to pull me into his arms. I went stiff and jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me,” I hissed.
He looked appalled. “What can I do? How can I make this up to you?”
“You can’t. I told you over and over again that she made me uncomfortable, that you were spending too much time with her, that I was tired of you not caring about my feelings, and so on.” I said, steel in my tone. “It’s over.”
“You don’t mean that,” he gasped, grabbing me to him and almost causing my wine to spill. “Please, Blair. You have to give me another chance.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“That’s not what I meant… just listen to me. I didn’t cheat. I didn’t fuck her or kiss her or hug her. I swear.”
“But you gave her everything else. You shared all your innermost thoughts with her, took her on dates, ate lunch with her every day, called and texted her constantly—that’s love.
That’s devotion. The only thing you didn’t do—if I can even believe it—is sleep with her.
That’s the only part of you I got. I got your body and your lust, but she got everything else. ”
He looked shell shocked, as if maybe he hadn’t ever thought of it that way.
“Did you think of her while you were fucking me?” I hated how my voice cracked, but I couldn’t hold back the emotion.
“No.” He looked me straight in the eyes. “Never. I… I couldn’t imagine being physical with another woman. Being with you that way is… almost an obsession with me. I want you every day, every time I’m in close proximity with you. It’s all I can think about. She could never make me feel like that.”
I’m weirdly satisfied that he doesn’t seem to be making this up.
At least there’s something about me he loves.
Or lusts for. “But she’s your ideal woman, right?
Blonde, beautiful, well-dressed, high maintenance?
It must be hard for you to be married to someone who looks so different from the type of woman you see yourself with.
” I shook my head. “I don’t know why in the world you married me.
I told you I was perfectly willing to raise the baby on my own.
Gam would’ve helped me. The only reason I even told you was because I felt that you had a right to know. ”
“I think you’re beautiful…”
“But that I just don’t care how I look anymore, right?”
He hung his head. “Please don’t throw those texts back in my face.”
I scoffed. “Why not? Because they make you feel bad? Imagine what they’ve done to me.
” I practically vibrated with fury. “I deserve someone who loves me. Someone who won’t have four children with me only to leave me with ninety-eight percent of the job of raising them.
Someone who won’t give almost every part of himself to another woman. ”
“What are you saying?” he was distraught. “I didn’t know…”
“You knew. You had a hidden app on your phone so you could text her without me seeing. You hid the iPad in a suitcase in the closet so I wouldn’t find it.
You never told me you were taking her out constantly.
” I folded my arms. “You knew it was wrong. That I wouldn’t be okay with it. Don’t lie about it now.”
He stood, hands on his hips, facing the floor. He had the demeanor and the posture of a defeated man.
“Oh, and my pride has been wounded in a million ways, but there’s one thing you can’t take from me.
You might think Scarlett is gorgeous and love the way she dresses, but I’m not going to let you continue on thinking she’s smarter than me.
Some of those texts from you made me seem like I was na?ve or stupid.
I was doing really well in the architecture program before I got pregnant with Sutton.
And you’re well aware that if I hadn’t had such a rough pregnancy, I wouldn’t have left school.
I don’t know why you talk to her as if she’s somehow better than me because I’m a stay-at-home mom.
If you think what I do is easy, you’re the one who’s na?ve. ”
“I’m sorry I ever implied you weren’t smart…”
“Where did Scarlett go to school? I guess she’s able to talk with you about things I can’t?”
He paused. “Um, actually, she doesn’t have a degree.”
I raised my eyebrows. “She listed a degree on her resume, didn’t she? I mean, that was the only reason we even interviewed her.”
“She did. That… wasn’t true. And she doesn’t talk to me about intellectual things, not really.”
“So, what is it you’re getting from her that I’m not giving you?”
He hesitated. “She makes me feel important. You very rarely seem to actually need my help. You’re independent.”
I gaped at him. “You don’t think I need your help putting four children to bed each and every night?
I can assure you, you’re mistaken. There have been so many times I needed you.
You just weren’t there to see it. You were too busy letting Scarlett stroke your ego to see what was right in front of you.
” I was done talking to him. I felt sick at my stomach.
I’d coasted along thinking my marriage was at least decent, when it was so far from it.
I sank down on the couch and poured the last of the wine into my glass. I took a healthy sip, suddenly very tired. I felt empty. Numb.
“What can I do to make this up to you?”
I gave him a look. “Nothing. I’ve already told you; there’s nothing you can do that will make up for this.”
He was quiet for several moments. “How do we move forward from this?”
I laughed. “We don’t. Scarlett can have you for all I care. But she’s not going to be around my kids. That’s for damn sure.”
“What are you saying? I don’t want Scarlett! I want you.”
“Save it. Those are just words that mean less than nothing to me. I need you to pack yourself a bag and go.”
His mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious. You’re trying to kick me out? This is my home! I pay the mortgage…”
I held my hand up. “So, let me get this straight. You think you should be the one to stay here. You want me and all four children to move out. Is that right?”
“No!” he shouted before getting his temper in check. “No,” he said in a softer voice. “I don’t want anyone to leave.”
“I’m not staying under the same roof as you,” I said. “And if I wasn’t worried about my children, I would laugh my head off at the thought of you trying to take care of them during your custody weekends or whatever the judge decides.”
He gasped. “We are not getting a divorce!”
I shrugged my shoulders. “We’ll see about that. Right now, I’m too tired to think about it. Just get a bag and get out.”