Was he? Who really knew?
I sat in stunned silence, unable to move as the realization assaulted me. My husband had shared himself with another woman. Anxiety squeezed my lungs. I clutched my chest and panted to catch air, but I still began to feel light-headed and tingly. I shut my eyes and willed my heart to slow.
It had been years since I’d had a real panic attack, and I didn’t need one now. Not with Colin watching and triumphing over me because he found someone new and better.
“Marissa, did you hear me?”
When I opened my eyes, Colin was by my side. “Of course I heard you.” I tasted the bitterness in my words. He deserved nothing less.
“My apology—I meant it. I’m sorry.” His voice faltered.
I rose on shaky legs and pushed past him. I needed to get away, to be alone and have my breakdown in private.
“Wait.”
I stopped, knowing there was nothing he could say to make it better or go away or turn back time. Nothing.
Nothing.
“What?” I asked without turning around, afraid the slightest movement would send me to the ground.
“There’s more, and you need to hear it now.” He spoke from behind, and I could tell he was getting close. Too close. “Look at me, please. I have to know you’re okay.”
“I’m not okay. There’s nothing about this that’s okay.” The mockery in my tone was the only mask I had for the hurt. I froze in place and prayed I could escape before my entire body went numb the way it had during my last panic attack. Slow, deep breaths did nothing to calm me, and I feared falling with only Colin to catch me, if he even would.
He walked around me and reached for my shoulders.
“Don’t touch me,” I said between breaths.
Colin drew his hands back to his sides. “You might as well know everything. Do you want to sit again?”
“Don’t bother asking me what I want. It’s too late.” My pulse throbbed from my temples to my toes.
“I know this is hard to hear.” He shook me slightly.
I yanked away. “You should’ve thought of that before …” I couldn’t bring myself to finish.
“I know that—do you think I don’t know how badly I screwed up?” He squeezed his eyes. “Trust me, I know.”
“Trust is the last thing I have for you.” Light-headed, I could hardly speak. I almost wished I’d let him steady my shoulders, but the thought of his touch—a touch he’d willingly given to someone else—sickened me.
Sorrow tinged his voice. “I never meant for this to happen.” After thoroughly destroying me, all Colin had to offer was a cliché.
“An affair isn’t something you accidentally do.” I turned to leave but he walled off the staircase with his body.
“Just listen, please. I have to get this out.” His urgency scared me.
What more could there be? My worst fears had already been proven. Nothing else could hurt me, and I didn’t really want the details. I didn’t want to know who she was or what she looked like or how I compared.
It was obvious I compared poorly or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“I need to be alone.” My lips and face began to tingle and my arms were numb. “Whatever it is, just say it.”
Colin’s shoulders heaved. His jaw ground furiously again, as though he somehow cared. Was he going to ask me to forgive him and stay together? Or was he going to ask for a divorce?
Divorce.
The word spilled new dread into my heart. I guess there really was something worse than hearing my husband had slept with another woman. He wanted to be with her forever, that had to be it. Maybe they were already making plans, and of course I was the last to know.
How could I convince him to stay? God hates divorce, and there was no way I could be part of that. Somehow we’d have to get through this.
“There’s no easy way to say this.”
“Should’ve thought of that before.” Now the top of my head was tingling. I needed to leave. I could feel my limbs weakening, and I didn’t want a panic attack to add to my humiliation. I needed to escape this nightmare with at least a smidgen of dignity.
Colin lowered his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The woman,” he said, shame coating his voice. “She’s pregnant.”
She’s pregnant.
Those were the last words I heard before I blacked out.
CHAPTER 28
Marissa
Tristan’s theory about a negative event not being nearly as bad as the anticipation of it was crap. Pure crap.
I lay in bed for two days, calling in sick and wishing I had the energy to get up and face life. Before Colin’s confession I’d pictured my reaction to such news in detail. I’d hold my chin up, wish him well, and walk away to start a new life with self-respect.
Instead I hid under the covers without changing outfits or showering, and my hair smelled bad even to me. Then there was the humiliation of having the man who destroyed me be the one to see to my daily needs. Not the picture of grace and self-respect I’d previously imagined, and the funny thing was, I didn’t care.
I didn’t care about the calls I wasn’t returning, I didn’t care about eating or drinking, and I didn’t care whether or not Colin saw me for who I really was—a weak, codependent, infertile woman.
On the third morning Colin came into the bedroom—which was now officially mine, according to the sleeping arrangements of the past few days—and opened the blinds. I squinted against the bright light and rolled over to face the wall.
“You need to get up. This isn’t healthy.” The bed sank behind me when he sat. He nudged my back, and I could feel him lean closer until he was hovering over my shoulder. “You have to talk to me. I gave you time.”
I jerked away, silently willing him to touch me again and at the same time loathing myself for wanting it. “I don’t have to do anything.”
“Fine.” His clipped tone punctured me. The bed rose when he stood, and my body was cold in his absence. “There’s some pancakes for you in the kitchen. I have to go, but you can call me when you’re ready to talk.”
Well, that was a first.
I kept my eyes closed until he left. I teared up, and once again I was crying. Not the gut-wrenching sobs that strangled me the first day but the soft cry of the desperate. What was I going to do? What was he going to do? I couldn’t begin to know his mind when I hardly knew my own. If only I had the strength to walk away, but I didn’t see that happening. More than likely I would hang on to him until the bitter end—and he would be the one to decide when that was.
Maybe he already had.
The thought of facing the future alone terrified me, but at least I knew I wasn’t crazy. I hadn’t imagined all the signs that pointed toward his unfaithfulness, though that was of little comfort.
It didn’t take long for the bedroom to heat up with the blinds open. I threw off the covers and swung my feet to the floor, willing myself to get up, if for no other reason than to make the room dark again. But once I was up and mobile, the thought of pancakes drew me downstairs.
Why had he gone to such trouble? He hadn’t made breakfast for me in years, and frankly, I was surprised he could even find his way around the kitchen. Either he was feeling terrible or he was ready to talk divorce, and I wasn’t making any bets.
My legs ached from days of inactivity, but I made it down the stairs just as the doorbell rang. It was entirely too early for visitors, and I was in no condition to see a magazine salesman or a meat-truck man, and I especially didn’t want anyone telling me how much God loved me. Not right now when I was too raw to hear it.
The doorbell rang again, three times in succession, keeping me from my pancakes. Perhaps Colin had forgotten his keys, and that was okay. He could stay outside and sweat out the summer heat.
The doorbell was replaced with incessant knocking and a booming voice. “I know you’re in there. Open up.”
Tristan.
There had to b
e some little lie I could conjure up in the next ten seconds that would send him away without him digging into my personal life. Or telling me to get help, aka get medicated.
I moderated my expression before I opened the door. “What brings you by?”
Tristan held up a coffee cup and motioned for me to step aside. “You can’t possibly miss our morning meeting for the third day in a row and think I’m not coming to check on you.”
“I thought I texted you that I wasn’t coming in today.”
“That must’ve been your imagination.” He quirked an eyebrow and handed me the cup.
The blessed scent of strong coffee made me rethink getting rid of my friend, and I was almost grateful for Tristan’s intrusion.
He closed the door and walked inside, then proceeded to make himself comfortable. Would he have done that if Colin had been home? I scoffed.
“What’s that for?” he asked, peering over the rim of his cup.
“I just can’t believe you’re here. Did you see Colin leave?” I padded over to the recliner and sat, allowing the warmth of the cup to seep into my hands. Familiar comfort.
“As a matter of fact, I waved to him when he turned the corner.” Tristan smirked, as close an acknowledgment as I’d ever get that he sensed the unspoken tension between them.
Of course, there was no reason for Colin to be territorial over me when he had someone else in his arms. Apparently that had been wishful thinking on my part.
“Clearly you’re not sick.” He crossed his leg over his knee and scrutinized me. “But you could use a shower. What gives?”
“Why are you here, really?”
“Besides the fact that we’ve had to reschedule ten clients—three new ones—there’s the small fact that your mom asked me to come look for you.”
“My mom? Why?” I sucked in a large breath the moment I remembered my mother. “I forgot all about her doctor appointment. I need to go.” I stood abruptly.
“No, it’s okay.” Tristan motioned for me to sit back down. “I dropped her off just now and promised I’d come check on you. Because forgetting your mom is flaky … even for you.” His humor disarmed me.
For the first time in days, the urge to cry was a little less insistent. “Thank you for helping her. I guess I should call her later.”
“Not only that—you should talk to me.”
I trained my attention on my coffee cup rather than meet his scrutiny. “There’s nothing to say. If I don’t feel well, I don’t feel well.”
“Ah, but there’s the rub. Not feeling well can mean so many things, especially coming from you.” Tristan sipped his coffee, apparently ready to wait me out the way he always did to get me to say things I didn’t even want to admit to myself.
I leaned against the recliner and rocked, taking in the sweet aroma of coffee made just the way I liked it. “How’s Kaitlyn?”
“Sick, but at least she’s still coming to work,” he said with a hint of displeasure in his voice.
“I’m sorry, but I just can’t. Not today.”
Tristan leaned forward, close enough that I could feel his gaze raking over me. “That’s fine, but can you at least tell me why? It’s not like you to shut me out.”
The weight of his concern was too much to bear. Why couldn’t my own husband care for me as much as the man who’d become my best friend? If a man as amazing, thoughtful, and successful as Tristan cared about me, then maybe I wasn’t the problem.
Yet shame still scorched me. Colin’s cheating slashed my heart in ways I hadn’t imagined. Telling someone else would only make it more real, and I could never un-tell the secret. And Tristan of all people … I didn’t want to lose the esteem I apparently had in his eyes.
He laid a soft hand on my leg and stopped me from rocking. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. And even if it is, we can work through it together.”
I swallowed hard to steady my voice. “Remember when you said that the bad thing I was dreading wouldn’t be as bad as the dread itself?”
“Vaguely.”
“Do you remember what we were talking about then?” I prodded him to come up with the answer so I didn’t have to say it out loud.
Light dawned in his eyes. He sat back and let out a long, slow breath while shaking his head. “How’d you find out?”
“He told me a few days ago.” How many had it been? I couldn’t tell for certain since pain had a timeline of its own. I curled my legs to my chest and began rocking again, the soft squeak of the recliner offering a bit of comfort.
“I’m so, so sorry.” The timbre of his voice held the sorrow he claimed. “I had no idea he’d really do that to you.”
I could feel my lips purse. “Come on now, you can’t have believed he was squeaky clean. I know he’s not your favorite person.”
“Probably not for the reasons you think.”
The only tidbits Tristan could know about Colin were the things I’d told him, which admittedly were more than I should have. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.” His gaze flitted away. “So … you’ve been holed up in here ever since?”
“Not very big of me, I admit.” I shrugged, apathetic. So what if the world went on around me? I was no longer part of it, at least not in the eyes of the one person I’d worked so hard to matter to. Of course, there was my mother who needed care and attention, and I fully planned to give her just that—as soon as I could pull myself together well enough to fake it in front of her.
“Hey,” he said as he laid his hand on the arm of the recliner, bringing my attention back to him. “There isn’t a wrong way to respond, as long as you’re not harming yourself.”
“Who said anything like that?” The alarm in my voice startled me.
“I mean ‘you’ in general. People. Everyone.”
My muscles relaxed, and I resumed gazing out the front window, wishing Colin hadn’t opened the blinds there either. The light hurt.
“Have you eaten?” he asked hesitantly.
“I was just about to heat up the pancakes Colin left. Do you want some?” I took another sip of coffee.
“No thanks. I ate at The Bean.” Tristan mirrored me and took a drink. “By the way, Kaitlyn is really missing you. And Christina. We all are.”
I smiled. At least I mattered to some really great people. “I guess I can come in today.” The thought of slogging through a day of meeting with expectant mothers and showing them their babies sent a chill through me. Normally I could rejoice with others, but not today. Maybe not ever again. I stood, determined to hide my real feelings from my friend. “But first I need to eat something.”
“And shower. Definitely shower.” Tristan wrinkled his nose before he smiled, lightening the air around me.
“Thanks, I’ll take that into consideration.” Even as I returned his smile, tears pressed against the back of my eyes. I stood and hustled toward the kitchen before he could see, but in usual Tristan fashion, he followed.
“So … what are you going to do?” Tristan leaned against the counter while I unwrapped the plate of pancakes.
“What do you mean?” I pulled butter from the fridge. Today I’d need a lot.
“Well, I don’t want to pry, but what are you going to do about Colin?” It was so unlike him to ask a direct question that it caught me off guard. Usually he led me to ask the questions myself.
I met his gaze. “What can I do?”
A flash of unease swept across his face. “Are you going to stay with him? Walk away? Get help? You have decisions to make.”
My mouth opened and closed at the possibilities. I’d thought about what I would do if it ever came to this, but without believing I would ever take action. To take a stand wasn’t in my nature, especially when it came to men.
Speechless, I peeled the lid off the butter while refusing to look at Tristan.
It had to be because of my father—or more specifically, my lack of one.
From my earliest memories, I’d always atta
ched myself to the man of the moment—uncles, teachers, and, as I grew, boyfriends. Always wanting to earn their approval, I sacrificed myself in order to be noticed and loved.
The realization seemed both poignant and cheesy. Psychology 101. Something Tristan probably pegged about me from the start.
And in his own special way, he did it to me again. Sweet Tristan, whose favor I never had to earn and who always stood with me, even when I took a long and twisted path.
“You have a say in what happens to you.” Tristan’s soft expression melted my defenses, what few I had left.
“I know that.” I angled away from him so he couldn’t read my face.
“Do you? You need to believe you have equal say in your relationship. You deserve to find joy in life.” Tristan approached me slowly. “Now, tell me the things you haven’t said yet.”
I shook my head, unwilling to let him into my vulnerable places. Why would I fess up about my shortcomings? Shortcomings that were now highlighted by another woman’s accidental success.
Or maybe it hadn’t been a mistake on her part. Maybe she’d wanted to lure Colin out of our marriage. I’d heard that story more than once at the center from women desperate enough to make that gamble. Colin was handsome, an up-and-coming bigwig in his field. Any woman in her right mind would love a shot with him.
“Pancakes—nothing soothes the ego like carbs. Right?” Finally I faced him, my vision hazy with tears.
He palmed my shoulders. “No more deflecting, no more defenses.” His neck bobbed, and he momentarily glanced away. “It’s okay to be hurt and angry. It’s okay to feel whatever it is you’re feeling.”
My breath shuddered until I held it to compose myself. Before I could think twice, I blurted my most painful secret. “I’m infertile.”
He startled but didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” He released my shoulders but held his close position. “Do you think that’s why Colin …”
“That’s not it.” I shook my head vehemently. “It’s just that … she’s pregnant.” The sobs came on strong. “The woman he’s with is going to have his baby.”
Tristan drew me into a tight embrace, where I released days’ worth of betrayal and years’ worth of bitterness.
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