He pushes his hand further down and I move my legs apart. At first, he starts moving his hand slowly and I follow his rhythm with moans and heavy, uncontrollable breathing. I can’t believe this is actually happening. When I reach out and put my hand on him, it’s obvious the whole thing excites him as much as it does me. The feeling builds as he gradually picks up the pace, and I push my pelvis harder against his hand. I dig my nails into his arm and bite down on his shoulder doing my best to control my urge to scream. My legs shake around his hand. The feeling is so intense that I move his hand away.
When I finally open my eyes he’s looking right at me with a smile on his face like he just completed the greatest heist ever. I throw my head back on the blanket and try to regain my composure. “I’m sorry,” I tell him as I reach for my panties.
“No need to be sorry,” he assures me. “I liked it. Did it feel good?”
“I think you know it felt good,” I laugh. I search for my panties but they’re gone. Somewhere along the way I lost myself. I now feel my panties hanging on to one of my ankles. I reach down, pull them back into place, and straighten my skirt. I bury my head against his chest, and close my eyes. We stay on the blanket for another thirty minutes. Every now and then I look at him and smile at the thought of him touching me. He winks like he knows exactly why I’m smiling. I consider doing the same thing to him but I’m too afraid of getting caught.
We’re looking out in the distance where small children are playing on the playground far away. He looks at me and asks bluntly, “Faith, why are you here?”
I turn toward him, and consider his question. I don’t know whether he’s being sincere or just playing with me so I don’t know if I should be truthful and vulnerable. I take a deep breath and decide to just go for it. “Honestly … I missed you.”
I’m hoping he feels the same but all he says is, “You’re really sweet.”
To tell you the truth, this bothers me. After a few minutes, I put my hand on his and ask, “Paul, why are you here?”
He leans forward and gives me a quick kiss. “You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. I like you.”
We stay at the park longer than I intended. I have to pick up my baby from Sharon and get home before my older kids arrive to an empty house. I quickly pick up the blanket and the picnic basket. He walks me to my car where he gives me one last kiss goodbye. I drive home with our time at the park spinning through my head.
When I get home, the kids are already there. I quickly jump in the shower and rinse off. For some reason it feels like I’m turning the page on what happened in the park. Ryan arrives an hour after I dry off and get dressed again. I hurry to the kitchen, and put something together for dinner. When Ryan walks in the door, he’s in a particularly good mood. The kids meet him at the door like they do every evening. He picks each one up in his arms and gives them a kiss. For years I would also come to the door and wait in line for my kiss. Now I stay in the kitchen, cooking. He comes in the kitchen, kisses me on the cheek, and says, “Hello, babe.”
“Hello,” I answer.
“How was your day?” he asks.
“Good,” I answer without asking about his. He stops me from cooking and gently kisses the side of my face. We seldom kiss anymore. Maybe I’m being too paranoid but it seems too coincidental that he would kiss me after I just spent the day with Paul. It actually scares me a little. Does he know, or feel, or sense, that something is off? I give him a half-smile, and return to my pasta that’s boiling on the stove.
We all eat dinner together, and have the most pleasant conversations we’ve had in months. He asks the kids about their day, and then turns to me. “Honey, did you do anything interesting today?”
“Me?” I answer, hoping to avoid the question altogether. “I cleaned the house, did a little laundry, and went grocery shopping. Nothing really exciting.”
I’m not sure why he’s in such a good mood. Whatever the reason, it’s nice to talk without arguing. I’m sure the kids feel the same. Everyone laughs when Ryan tells a joke he heard today. The entire room lights up as the kids respond to their mom and dad no longer fighting. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy our dinner.
That night we lie in bed, and I turn away like I’ve done so many nights before but this time Ryan lies against my backside and puts his arm under my shirt. I’ve been able to avoid these nights by going to bed early but I’m still reeling from my orgasm in the park and the idea of sex dominates my soul—just not with him. I have an ache in my body to be touched, to have the weight of a man on top of me, to be filled. After so many years together, Ryan and I both know each other’s bodies. As much as I want to pretend I’m not interested, I’m finding it impossible to deny my stiff nipples from his touch or the warm wetness between my legs.
Throughout our marriage, the longer we go without having sex, the more Ryan tries to please me. Well, we’ve never been this long without sex. He touches me, kisses me, and we make love—I mean have sex—with all the intensity of our first time together. My whole body shakes, and I’m able to forget all the problems between us in that moment.
When we’re done, he holds me in his arms. I can’t believe what I just did. Paul had his hands on me in the park, and now I had sex with my husband. Who the hell have I become? I close my eyes and say a silent prayer:
“Dear God, forgive me—please forgive me, but I can’t do this on my own. If you want me to stay in this marriage, then take away the feelings I have for Paul. I cannot stop thinking about him. Take the memory of him from me.”
– CHAPTER 15 –
Only days later, Ryan and I get into an argument because I spent the day with Sharon and forgot to call the air conditioner man like he asked. I told him I didn't have the time, and the argument was on.
From that night forward, things only get worse. As the weeks pass, we’re either distant or arguing. We’re still sleeping in the same bed but there’s no intimacy. We haven’t had sex in almost a year except for the one time I lost my head two weeks ago. To me, it was a mistake I wish I could take back. Ryan, on the other hand, obviously thought our night together was the start of something new, like it was so many times before. He gets angry when it doesn’t happen again.
I make sure we go to bed at different times. When he tries to touch me, I either pretend to be asleep or I tell him I’m not ready. A few days ago, he slowly moved his foot to mine, which has always been the fire that thaws the ice, but this time I moved my foot away. He’s never been one to demand sex so he always stops and turns away. There’s nothing lonelier than sleeping in bed with another person right beside you but emotionally miles apart.
I actually wonder how he’s able to go so long without sex. Is he seeing someone else? I see nothing that makes me think he is, and it’d be so uncharacteristic of him to have an affair. I actually hope he is having an affair. I wish he’d come home one day, and tell me he’s in love with someone else and wants a divorce. It would solve all my problems. He’d be the sorry son of a bitch, and I’d be the poor jilted wife. If Ryan’s having an affair, I never know about it and he never stops pursuing me.
The more distant I get, the angrier he gets. He now questions where I am, where I’m going, and who I’m talking to on the phone. I haven’t seen Paul since we met at the park but Ryan now seems suspicious of everything I do.
I can’t keep up the charade any longer. He wants to talk but I’m done talking. He says we should try counseling but I tell him it’s too late. It’s too difficult sleeping in the same bed. He sometimes sees me in the shower or getting undressed which makes me uncomfortable so I move into the upstairs guest bedroom. Ryan isn’t at all happy about this. He argues that we can’t fix our marriage from separate bedrooms but I tell him I need some time apart.
“What about that night a few weeks ago?” he asks. “What was that all about?”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“You’re sorry? You’re my wife. What the hell does, ‘I’
m sorry’ mean?’”
“I don’t know. It just happened.”
It doesn’t feel right fantasizing about one man while sleeping in bed with another. I move my clothes and personal items into the guest bedroom. Sleeping alone gives me some relief. It makes me feel less guilty about everything I’ve done.
– CHAPTER 16 –
Paul is on my mind every day. Everything plays over and over in my head: our first meeting when he sent over drinks, kissing in the parking lot with his hand on my breast, kissing in the back of the restaurant, and everything in the park. I haven’t seen him for three weeks but he’s all I think about. The memories turn me on—especially when I’m trying to sleep. I want to hear his voice again so I call him while my daughter’s taking a nap, and I hear the voice that I’ve been hearing in my dreams.
“Hey, beautiful,” he replies. “How you been?”
I can see his smiling face in my mind, and it makes me smile. “I’ve been good,” I say.
“Well good. I’m happy for you,” he replies in the same cheerful way. “You were going through a lot the last time we talked.”
“Well, none of that’s really changed,” I say, “but, you know, life goes on.” When he doesn’t respond, I tell him, “Listen, Paul, I’d really like to see you again.”
“I’d love to get together again,” he answers. “When are you free?”
I think it over for a minute, and decide to go for it all. Ryan’s leaving next Saturday for a tournament with his baseball team and he always takes the kids with him. “I thought we could go to San Antonio next weekend,” I say.
“San Antonio?” he asks, not sounding at all excited. “I don’t know. Let me call you back.”
“Okay, let me know. Listen, Paul, it’s really good talking to you again.”
“Good talking with you too,” he says, and hangs up the phone.
All night I wait for his call but it never comes. He doesn’t call the next day either. It feels like he’s blowing me off. It’s a terrible feeling that I haven’t felt in years. Maybe he met someone else. This is my first dive back into the dating pool in many years, and it doesn’t feel very good, especially after spending so many years with someone who answers my every call no matter how busy he is. I wonder if this is God’s way of telling me to cut this off and get my mind back on my husband. Just when I’ve given up on Paul ever calling me back, I get a text while cooking dinner.
Paula
-----------------------------------------------------------
Today, 6:47 p.m.
Hey Faith. Sorry I didn’t get back to you. Been busy. I can make next Friday work
Today, 6:48 p.m.
Perfect. Next Friday at 2:00??
Today, 8:52 p.m.
That works
Ryan comes home early from work on Friday to go to the baseball tournament. As soon as he leaves, I pack a small suitcase and leave right behind him. I call Ryan and tell him that I’m staying at Sharon’s house. Paul and I drive to San Antonio and walk side by side down the Riverwalk. When we reach the canals, he reaches out and takes my hand. We stop at a Mexican restaurant and sit at an open table next to the water. I’ve already decided if anyone sees us, I’ll just tell them he’s my cousin visiting from out of town. We eat enchiladas and drink two margaritas. We go back to our hotel where I made reservations, and sit by the pool.
“You picked a nice hotel,” he says. “Can I help you pay for part of it?”
“No, I needed to get away. This is my treat.”
I packed a special bottle of wine and fancy cheese in a picnic basket. The stars are shining bright in the Texas sky and we can hear music playing down on the Riverwalk. Paul tells me all the things I want to hear—all the things I no longer hear from Ryan. When we finish the wine, I take his hand and we go up to our room.
Lying on the bed, he puts his hands on my hips and pulls me to him. The feeling of him again taking control causes my body to ache for him. We make love for the first time until we both collapse in exhaustion. He’s very different from what I’ve become used to. He’s so dominating and takes control. If there’s something he wants he tells me or simply does it.
The room is now dark and completely quiet. Lying beside me he asks, “Do you feel guilty?”
I lace my fingers with his and assure him, “I have nothing to feel guilty about. I’m not happy and our marriage has been over for years. We’re not even sleeping in the same room. We’re only together for the kids. We’re getting divorced. We just haven’t signed the papers yet.”
It feels good to be here. Something I thought was impossible is possible. I’m in love again. I finally found the man I was meant to be with.
– CHAPTER 17 –
After the weekend in San Antonio, there’s no turning back. Sharon comes to my house after Ryan leaves for work for more wine therapy. We catch up on everything. She’s been dating someone for three months now and things are getting serious. She really feels like he might be the one.
She already knows I met Paul at the restaurant and again at the park, although I left out all the sexual details. Now she knows we spent the night at a hotel in San Antonio so there’s no way to deny it any longer. I give her all the details. I tell her how we walked by the restaurant where Ryan proposed so long ago. She raises her glass in a toast and says, “Oh my God, serves him right.”
I tell her how we held hands as we walked through the city, sat out by the pool drinking wine, and went back to our room and made love.
“Oh my God, I cannot believe it,” she screams as she leaps forward and hugs my neck. “I told you! I told you you’d meet a nice guy who deserves you.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I think I love him.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she screams again, grabbing me around the neck and rocking me back and forth like two teenagers discussing their first kiss.
Then we move to more serious matters—how I need to file for divorce. Every time I threaten to leave, Ryan always calms me down. I’m sure he’s just as unhappy as I am but he never, even in the heat of an argument, suggests we divorce. I’m not sure if he’s in love with me, or if he’s just in love with the idea of marriage. I think he’s invested so much in us, and he doesn’t want to lose his investment.
I have no education. We both agree that I can’t make enough money to support myself, much less myself and three kids. Ryan’s a good provider. We have almost $150,000.00 in the bank, some stocks and bonds, and our house is worth $445,000.00 more than we owe on it. Sharon tells me to put away as much money as possible.
“It’s your money,” she says, “and you need to start now.”
Next, we get some paper and plan a budget. It’s obvious that I can’t stay in the home we now own. It’s a beautiful five thousand square foot home with a pool in the back yard. I can’t afford it even with the child support I’ll receive. No, I’ll find a nice house for $1,500 to $1,800 per month. When you add food, cable, entertainment, a car note, and kids’ activities, I hope to keep my budget under $5,500.00 a month. I’ll have just enough money if I find a job and receive the child support that Sharon and I think I’ll receive. I’ll have to fight for as much money as possible. With a little luck I’ll get some spousal support.
The biggest part of the divorce will be custody. Part of me thinks that Ryan is only threatening me with the kids to stop me from leaving. It’s one thing to take care of kids for a weekend. There’s no way he can raise three kids working full time. We’re convinced that he might threaten me but in the end, he’ll just give me the kids.
Finally, we both agree that I’ll need a good lawyer–preferably someone who doesn’t know Ryan. Sharon is pretty happy with her lawyer and I know no one else. I call his office and schedule an appointment.
Three days later, I go to his office for a one-hour consultation. I’m terrified that Ryan will find out. The lawyer advises that he knows Ryan’s reputation but they’ve never met since Ryan doesn’t practice family law. I mostly answer
his questions. I tell him Ryan drinks but no more than most people. To my knowledge, he’s never been unfaithful. He rarely goes anywhere without the kids and me. I tell him that Ryan has never hit me but he has pushed me or grabbed me in arguments. He tells me that it’s unlikely a judge will give Ryan primary custody since I stayed at home with the kids throughout our entire marriage. This is what I was hoping to hear. Sharon said the same thing.
Before I leave, I have one last question. Ryan has a strong relationship with our only son, Colt. Ryan coaches his baseball team, and they do everything together. I’m sure he’ll want to live with his dad.
My lawyer seems completely unconcerned. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he assures me. “What the kids want, especially before the age of fourteen, really doesn’t matter a whole lot. He’s too young right now to make that decision.”
At first, this sounds great. Then it occurs to me how ludicrous it is. What the kids want really doesn’t matter a whole lot? This seems crazy.
“Any other questions?” he asks.
I look down at my notes to make sure we covered everything. “Oh, what if one party is having an affair?” I ask, still looking down.
“An affair?” he repeats. “You said Ryan isn’t having an affair.”
“No, I met someone.”
“So you’re having an affair?” he asks.
“No,” I declare hoping he believes me. “I was just asking.”
“Well, to most judges it doesn’t matter but I don’t advise you to get involved until the case is over.”
My lawyer’s phone buzzes, and his secretary tells him that his next appointment is waiting. The hour has gone by so fast. I feel like there’s a lot we haven’t talked about. He never asked about Ryan’s good points or about his relationship with our kids. He didn’t ask about my faults. I’m sure Ryan has things he can use against me. I haven’t been the perfect wife. I was better with the kids when they were little when I could hold them, feed them, bathe them, and put them to sleep at night. As they get older, Ryan is much better at dealing with them. I just don’t have the endless energy he seems to have. The kids really love it. They gravitate to his energy, and his love for life.
The Killing of Faith: A Suspense Thriller You Won't Soon Forget. (The Killing of Faith Series Book 1) Page 9
