S I X A rough few months.
Sarah’s POV
There was one night, three weeks after I’d found everything out, when I was feeling particularly down.
I had been doom-scrolling on their joint social media, feeling horrible and throwing a pity party for myself.
Row had come over, ready with a bottle of wine, everything to cook dinner with us, and the promise of yummy snacks cooked on the bonfire in the backyard.
We were cooking dinner when I got a text from Will.
Will: Work dinner. Be home late.
That’s all I’d been reduced to. Just giving me a heads up like a live-in nanny or something.
It was almost like I was the mistress in my own marriage.
I guess that’s what happens when you bring a third person into a marriage.
That night, I checked their social media for the final time before blocking it through tear-filled eyes.
It was after getting the boys to bed, we sat out by the fire.
I had the monitor and a glass of wine. Looking at his lies. There they were, celebrating.
They were pregnant, though still early at only ten weeks. But, hey, they couldn’t wait to ‘share the exciting news!’ I wanted to vomit, the last coming up my throat as I watched the fire dance before me, unable to look back at my phone, of the announcement photos they’d had professionally done.
Why was he even still in this marriage? Why was he still pretending like he cared? Why had I been reduced to this role of ‘child carer’ in my marriage? Where had it all gone wrong?
I sat there, watching the flames before trying to casually go inside and drag a box with me when I came back outside to the fire pit.
Looking around, taking in every detail, every memory, I couldn’t help but think how much I was going to miss this house.
I loved being able to have a backyard for the kids, so we could camp out and have fires, and do projector movie nights.
I was going to see about getting a swing set this year, before .
Though I don’t think we’ll need one now, if we end up moving into an apartment.
I picked up the box, tossing the whole thing into the flames.
I’d saved a handful of photos to show the boys if they’re ever curious about their dad and me.
I’d saved ones from when we were in love.
A single photo from my wedding was saved.
Everything else, went. The flames licked around the edges, burning them slowly before picking up speed, almost like it wanted to give me the chance to snatch them back.
I had no such intentions, though. Why would I want those memories, now tainted with his betrayals?
His years-long, numerous betrayals. There was no way reconciliation would ever be on the table.
Jenson had said in a meeting we had yesterday that they had enough to successfully get a divorce granted under ‘infidelity’ as the cause.
And I wanted that.
I wanted to humiliate him, like he humiliated me. I wanted to show him that I knew, but I wouldn’t scream or throw a fit. I would be the one person he never should have crossed. I would be his worst nightmare.
As the photos burned, I felt like the memories were playing before me.
Our first date, our engagement party, and our wedding.
I felt like our life was burning up with the photos.
I felt my eyes starting to water. The emotions were welling up in me, and my heart was hurting.
I had been feeling so alone, and my therapist helped me realize I’d been feeling this way for much longer than I thought.
The loneliness felt both all-consuming and yet somehow not a part of me.
It was a terrifyingly cold feeling, the loneliness.
And, I felt like I needed something. I needed to feel whole, to feel warm, useful, wanted.
It was like Will had looked at our thirteen years together and decided it didn’t mean anything.
That it wasn’t significant enough to hold onto and fix.
Like it was a gaming headset and the mic had stopped working, or a book with the first ten chapters written, then deciding you don’t like what’s been written and chucking it in the bin.
I could feel myself starting to spiral as I stood up, making almost a dead sprint for the sliding door.
I could feel the panic and sadness setting in.
My breathing was labored, taking considerable effort to try to focus on what I was doing.
I jumped when I felt Row’s hand on my back, spinning to look at him, tears in my eyes.
His hands felt so warm as the ice-cold tears went down my already cold cheeks, somehow making me feel colder.
I don’t know what came over me, but I threw my arms around him, pulling him to me, kissing him like my life depended on it.
He didn’t kiss me back, and for a moment, I thought I had made a mistake, until I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me into him, melting into me.
He kissed me like he’d been waiting a lifetime to taste my lips.
He groaned as his long, thick fingers wove their way through my hair, holding me gently.
Just as I was getting lost in the velvety lips that had always been there, he pulled back.
His hands ran down my arms as he found my hands, pulling them away from him.
He stood to his full height, having the audacity to look as shattered as I was feeling inside at the distance, the coldness between us.
The tears that fell from finally feeling warm again quickly turned cold.
Shame and embarrassment overcame me as I realized I’d just thrown myself at my best friend.
I am such an idiot. Of course, that was stupid. He’s always seen me as a friend.
“Sarah,” I tried to look at the floor through my tears, “Look at me, Sarah.”
When I refused, he tipped my chin up with those fingers that were just running through my hair. I kept my eyes closed, refusing to let my tears fall, though one rebellious one escaped when he whispered, “Please.”
He pressed his forehead to mine for a brief moment before pulling away, still looking pained. I wanted the ground to swallow me up.
“Sarah,” When I looked at him in the eyes, it was like I was in a trance, and I couldn’t look away because the hurt in his eyes was too real, too raw, “I want to continue this, more than you know, but I have to stop right now. I have been waiting fifteen years to tell you how I feel, but damn girl. I love you, and have been dreaming of this moment every fucking day. But, not like this.” He was shaking his head, tears in his eyes.
“I want you. Every bit of you. But I won’t be your rebound.
What I feel for you is deep, soul-crushingly deep.
It’s never going to go anywhere. I’ve been in love with you for fifteen years.
But I want you to be ready for me. I want you ready for forever.
” I sucked in a breath, feeling something shift within me.
“When you’re ready, I’m coming for you, baby.
The only thing that will stop me is you telling me you don’t want me.
That’s the only way I’ll stop coming for you. But not until you’re ready.”
He kissed my cheek, wrapping his arms around me, holding me tightly. Then he scooped me up in his arms, shocking me. I stared at him as he carried me to my room. He helped me get ready for bed, turning around so I could change before he tucked me in.
“I’ll be on the couch. I love you, Sarah.”
I closed my eyes, tears still falling. Did I mess this up?
When did I first start feeling this lonely?
When did I start to lose myself? When did I start to see Row that way?
Did I see him that way? Was I just looking for comfort?
What was going on with me? This had to be some fucked up dream. This couldn’t be real.
“Why did you never like him?” I asked, needing to know where my judgment went wrong.
“He never liked peanut butter and chocolate. Never trust someone who doesn’t think chocolate and peanut butter go together.” He smiled and walked away, off to the couch.
Waking up the next morning, I felt like I was in a fog.
It felt like so much of what happened last night was a dream.
I was hoping it was a dream. If that was real, I made such an ass out of myself.
I got all lost in the wine and my feelings and made myself look like a slut.
I buried my head under my pillows, trying to drown out all sunlight and noise.
Maybe it was just a super weak moment, when I just clung onto the only warm person in my life.
Walking downstairs, I had almost convinced myself it had been a dream or a hallucination or something, when I smelled something cooking in the kitchen.
There, shirtless and oh so sexy looking, cooking in my kitchen, was my best friend, cooking with my children.
My Deveraux. Cooking with my sons, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Hold the phone. My Deveraux? Woah . When had that happened?
A tomato-red blush sprang to my face as the embarrassment hit in full force. I couldn’t stop it as it flamed my cheeks, even deeper when he turned and noticed me standing there like an idiot.
“Was last night…did that really happen? How…it wasn’t…was it?” He nodded.
“Yes, I was most definitely being for real last night,” his face was still frozen, almost like he was afraid of my reaction in the sober, fresh light of day. “I want you and have only ever wanted you. But I thought my chance with you had gone out the window when you married Numb Nuts.”
I stared at him, shocked that he was reconfirming everything he said last night. Since when?
“Since you stopped me from destroying the kitchen at work in college.” His eyes were honest as always. Since then?!
Since college?!