by Remi Wild
My heart leaps in my chest. He’s staying with Leo, not Fiona. I’m almost happy for about a second.
Too terrified to speak the words, I jump up off the lounger and head towards the house. “I need a drink,” I say over my shoulder as Melanie follows.
After I’ve found the largest wineglass we own and filled it to the brim, and after I’ve emptied it and refilled it, I take a seat at the island and stare into the contents of my glass. The heady warmth is kicking in—I might be ready.
Mel hasn’t said a word. She’s eyeing me with concern, knowing it’s bad, but like the awesome friend she has always been, she waits.
I turn to her and let the words fall from my lips. “He slept with Fiona…”
“What? When? No way…” Melanie leaps from the chair and stares at me, completely blown away. Her mouth moves as if she has something to say but can’t find the words.
“On Friday night, after everyone left…she waited for him to be in bed for a bit and then went to join him…When I woke up in the morning, I noticed her stuff was still here and found them naked in bed together.”
“Oh my God! She stayed? When Leo and I left, she was waiting for a cab, we saw it pull up after ours did…Shit! We should’ve waited…” She rushes forward, yanking me into a hug, squeezing me like it might matter. A minute later, she pulls away, shaking her head in denial. “He wouldn’t have slept with her…”
“Oh, but he did…He swore that he didn’t, but then we pulled the surveillance feed and…I received the absolute honor of seeing Fiona ride my husband…it was awesome.” I take another long swig of wine.
Melanie slumps back onto her stool, staring dumfounded into space. Reaching out, she grabs the bottle and refills my glass. She turns to me, intent, locking her eyes to mine. “Listen…Eric was really drunk…hard to believe in the state he was in that he could even get it up, but you were all he talked about all night…he went to check on you several times and it was clear that he was preoccupied, that he was worried.”
Eric has never had an issue with alcohol diminishing his performance, so I’m not even slightly hopeful about her remark. “He claims he doesn’t remember, that he thought it was me…”
“Well, yeah, I can see that. You’re everything to him…Fiona took advantage of him at his weak point—isn’t that rape?” She’s almost optimistic, as if the thought that Fiona raped him would console me.
“Judging by the video, he was very in to it, so no, it’s not rape…I don’t think it is…although he did threaten to sue her—for what I can’t imagine. It was clear by that video that he wanted it.”
“So…what now?”
“I kicked him out. Even if he was drunk, there is no way I can accept the fact that he thought it was me. No way…she’s way curvier than me. There could be no mistaking us…”
“Still…he was drunk…maybe he legitimately thought it was you. Who actually thinks clearly when they’re drunk? Leo was a puddle that night too—he doesn’t remember that I took him home…it happens, Becky. If he had been sober, that shit never would have went down. He worships you.”
“I just can’t get past it. Seeing her riding him, seeing his hands move up and down her body, watching them kiss…knowing that she came all over my sheets and that he came inside her…” My body shudders and I gag. “I…can’t…”
“Well.” She throws her hands up in defeat. “Fiona has won. She got what she wanted and unless you claim him, he is free and clear for her to full-on pursue, and she will pursue him. Guaranteed. Is that what you want? Do you want her to have him? Do you want to be without the love of your life because of some home-wrecking whore? I can’t imagine…”
“No!” I shout, my eyes bugging.
“Well, then snap out of it and fight for your man. Fight for your marriage! You’re no quitter. Get off that chair and move your ass, lady. You are stronger than this.” She waves her hands as if to highlight my disastrous appearance.
“Oh, my God!” She’s right. I can’t cower in defeat. I can’t let her win. That bitch will never get her nasty hooks into him again.
Jumping up, I race through the house in search of my phone. It’s stuffed beneath the pillows of the sofa and completely dead. I hook it up to the charger, anxiously waiting for it to hit one percent so I can turn it on.
As it comes to life, I text him. Can’t do this. I need you. Can we pls work this out? Staring at the message, I can’t bring myself to hit the send button.
A finger reaches over my shoulder and hits send. “Wimp,” Melanie hisses. I spin to her, shocked, scared. “You know you want him back…so…” She turns and flounces back in to the kitchen, leaving me speechless.
Why did I hesitate? Was it pride? At this point, I’d beg, I’d give my soul for the chance to have what we had back.
No, it’s not pride. I have none, not anymore.
It’s fear—the kind that weighs on me, pinning me down.
I’m terrified that things may get worse, that I may really lose him, that that bitch, Fiona, will snag him for real. I’m terrified of what might happen if I try to repair the damage. What if it happens again? I’d die.
Can I take that chance?
If I don’t, then what? Do I file for divorce? A gag escapes my lips as my body retches against the idea. Agonizing pain ripples through my chest, constricting my breathing.
No.
NO!
Divorce is not an option.
I glare at the phone in my hand, willing it to flash with an incoming message. He could simply tell me no. The phone vibrates in my hand, and I gape at his reply. Be there in twenty.
Twenty minutes…
Holy shit!
Flying through the house, I stop in the kitchen to see Melanie exiting through the patio door while waving over her shoulder.
“Thank you, Mel. I swear, I’ll be a better friend,” I shout.
“Whatevs,” she calls. “Take a shower. You reek.”
Giggling, I race upstairs to shower, attempting to pull myself together before he arrives. I’m torn. Should I let him see how devastated I actually am? I don’t want a sympathy vote. I want him to want me.
I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my body. Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, so I spin to see him standing in the doorway, watching me.
His eyes are hopeful.
I drop the towel.
Not missing a beat, he rushes towards me, peeling his shirt from his body. Yanking me into his arms, his lips crash against mine and the world around us disappears—he is everything—even now.
I need to show him.
I want him to know.
He is my everything.
Grabbing his hand, I pull him in the direction of our bedroom. Pausing momentarily once inside, I almost falter, but then sheer determination takes over. That bitch will not get her hands on what is mine.
Spinning towards him, I claw at his pants until he is standing magnificently naked before me. I step back, admiring each inch of his perfectly tanned flesh before leaping into his arms. Our lips crash as our bodies meld together.
Moving towards the bed, attached by the lips, I push him back on to the mattress, landing on top of him, blanketing his body with mine…and then something inside me snaps. All desire is gone. I squirm away from him, fall off the bed, collapsing into a breathless heap on the floor.
“I can’t do this. I…” As the words huff from my lips, he is beside me, taking me into his arms and carrying me to bed. He tucks me in and crawls in, facing me, looking into my eyes.
“When you’re ready, my love. Only then.” He leans in and kisses my nose and then turns me, spooning me. His hot breath on my neck soothes me, relaxes me.
Chapter Fifteen
For the first time since it happened, I slept through the night and almost feel rested. My eyes open, and my senses are overwhelmed with the smell of bacon sifting through the air. He’s making me breakfast.
Smiling, I stretch like a c
at and crawl from bed. Reality slams me in the chest, and I sit back on the mattress. What now? What do I say to him? What do we say to each other? I hadn’t considered any of this, yesterday. Today, I’m fearful of the awkward silence, and momentarily wish I hadn’t invited him back into our home.
I have no clue where to start. The what next is a new form of torture I hadn’t anticipated.
“We’ll get through this,” I whisper to myself.
“Yes, we will,” Eric says.
I spin towards the sound of his voice—so confident, so sexy, and he’s bringing me coffee. Still, I feel nothing, not even a slight bit turned on—it’s just emptiness.
I should be over the moon to have him back.
He sits down next to me on the mattress and hands me my coffee. Wrapping both hands around it, I sip it, inviting the rush of caffeine.
“I’m scared, Eric…terrified.”
“Are you kicking me out again?” I gaze into his worried eyes. He looks terrified.
Shaking my head, I force an assuring smile. “I want us to stay together. I…I’m not willing to throw what we have away because of Fiona, because of…”
Reaching out he takes my hand and kisses my palm—the normal tingles I would get from this aren’t there. “I will never let anything come between us. You are all I want, Becky…I will do whatever it takes to make you believe it.”
“What if we can’t fix this?” The words crack from my throat, they’re painful to speak, agony to hear.
“No. We will fix this. I promise you with all that I have, all that I am. We will fix this.” The determination in his tone breaks, like he’s just as unsure.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I snuggle into his arms. We will be okay. I want that, he wants that…it’s just going to take time.
“Maybe we should see a therapist…” he says, sighing before kissing my head.
Surprised by this, I look up into his eyes. He’s totally serious, so I nod. “There shouldn’t be anything unsaid—I want everything out on the table. We have to move forward. I promise not to give up on us…I don’t want to lose you. It’s been the worst week of my life, but it would be hell if I had to be without you forever. I can’t do it…I won’t.” My voice cracks with uncertainty, but I swallow it back. I will do anything to work through this.
“Me either,” he says.
“If I could just forget…”
“I’m so sorry I made you watch it…”
“No. I needed to know. We both did. Eventually the image should fade—God, I hope it’s soon.”
“Well then, I guess I have my work cut out for me, don’t I—I’m going to fill your head with enough good memories to wipe out the bad, starting with bacon. Come on, let’s eat.”
***
As we pull in to park outside our therapist’s office building, I can’t help but feel nauseous. Eric reaches out and squeezes my hand.
“I can’t believe you were able to get us in so today.” I hadn’t expected to do this so soon—I’m still trying to process…
“Money talks,” he says with a chuckle. “I know it’s a lot…I only want us to work through this as fast as possible so we can move on. Besides, you’re back to work tomorrow.”
Nodding, I climb out of the car and then he is next to me taking my hand in his and guiding me into the building. Still in a daze, I suddenly find myself seated next to him on a sofa, facing our lovely hippie therapist.
“Eric, Rebecca, thank you for making it in today. I want you both to know that this room is sacred. We say what needs to be said within these walls and then leave it behind when you leave.”
I scoff. “Somehow I get the feeling that what is said between these walls will be impossible to forget.”
Linda arches an eyebrow but doesn’t retaliate. “Right, well, what brings you in today?”
Shifting in my seat, I lean back against the cushion and close my eyes. If I don’t look, I can say the words. “I caught Eric in bed with a co-worker.”
“I see…” She waits for the rest.
“Her name is Fiona. I overheard her in the bathroom a couple of weeks ago, talking to someone about how she intended to snag him, and I told Eric. I told my friends, and they all said he would never do anything like that—I thought the same. Eric invited her to dinner at our house, and I ended up with a nasty stomach virus and spent the whole night in bed. A couple of our friends were there as well. After they left, he went to bed alone and she followed…”
“I was drunk,” Eric states, cutting in. “I don’t even remember doing it…I assume I thought it was Becky.”
My eyes pop open, and the worst of it spews from my lips. “In order to verify that anything actually happened, we watched our video surveillance footage, and I…watched as she rode my husband.”
Linda releases a long, exasperated breath. “Wow. That’s a lot to take in…”
“Tell me about it,” I say, crossing my arms.
“So, Eric says he doesn’t remember, but you don’t buy that, do you?”
Silent for a beat, I lean forward and rest my elbows on my legs, looking at the floor. “No. It just seems too…convenient.”
Eric grabs my arm and tries to turn me to him. “Becky, it’s the truth…I swear it…I thought you believed me. I thought that was why you wanted me back…”
I can’t look at him or I’ll burst, so I stare at the floor. “I wanted you back because I love you, but it doesn’t mean I believe your story…I’m not trying to be hateful, just honest.”
He slumps back against the sofa, his voice cracks. “I swear to god, I didn’t know…”
Linda watches us for a minute. “Whether you knew or not doesn’t change the fact that it happened. Vows were broken, trust shattered. I assume the reason you are here is to find your way back, to forgive, to move one.” We both nod. “The fact that you are both here is the first step, the most important…you said you took him back?” She looks to me and I nod. “Why?”
“I just said—because I love him.”
“Fair enough, but if you intend to move on, you need to be willing to move forward. Inviting him home to keep him within arm’s reach isn’t moving forward, it’s decisively grounded…”
My head pops up and I gape at her, stunned that she even said that, but not angry. She literally just called me out on my shit. My head cranes, I turn to Eric.
Eric’s eyes search mine. “Is that why you asked me to come home? To keep an eye on me, to keep me away from Fiona?”
“What? No…ok, if we’re being honest, that may be part of it…but I hated being without you, missed you so much it ached—I longed to be in your arms.”
“I’m getting the sense that you didn’t really want me back,” he says. “You won’t let me touch you…”
“Are you kidding me, right now? Of course, I won’t let you touch me—all I see is you and her together, and who knows where she’s been.”
He slouches, hurt by my words, and clears his throat. “Do you think you will forgive me?”
I’m silent, not that I’m debating forgiveness but because the pain in his voice is palpable. “I already do…I think…”
“You think?”
“Being without you—it’s torture, the worst kind of agony. Right now, at this moment, I could care less about Fiona. I just want us, our marriage, our love. Eric, I do love you…so much…I know I don’t want to be without you, and I’m willing to see us through this…but straight-up, complete forgiveness…it’s just a lot to ask me, right this moment. You’ve been home for two days…”
“I see...” his tone is strained.
“Please don’t be mad. It’s not that I won’t forgive you—there is no doubt in my mind that I will, but I’m not there yet…”
“I’m not mad.”
Turning back to Linda, I sigh, feeling bad, but also like some weight is lifted—not all of it, but some. “You know how people say you can forgive and not forget?”
Linda nods, waiting for the r
est.
“Well, I kind of feel like they go hand in hand. If I can’t forget, I can’t forgive—it will haunt me no less…I have a lot to work through—my insecurities are part of the problem.” I turn, looking Eric in the eye. “I love you, I do—and that love isn’t something I can just turn off, and I don’t want to, not even a little, but I’m afraid to trust you…I’m petrified.”
“Becky, it’s still me. You can trust me. This thing that happened with Fiona would never have happened if you had been here.”
“So, your blaming me?” Irrational fury burns my flesh. “I couldn’t help that I was sick…”
“Maybe you weren’t really sick. Maybe you were testing me.” His sudden spiteful tone hits me hard, pissing me off to the brink.
“What? You have to be kidding me.” I move to stand. “This is bullshit.”
Linda interjects. “Stay, Rebecca. We’re getting somewhere, I promise.”
Turning, I scowl at Eric, furious. “I was sick, could barely even move—don’t even remember you moving me—do you honestly think I planned for you to fuck her? I would never—it was my biggest fear…”
“No, I don’t believe it…” He slumps, defeated, he begs me with those doe-eyed blues to believe him, to trust him. “Becky, I don’t know why I said it…nothing about any of this is your fault.” He sighs, raking his hand through his hair. “This is on me—no matter how drunk I was—I did it—arguing about the details won’t change that.”
The pain in his voice tells me he is being truthful. He’s hurting too, wishing for a way around this—blame is always an easy road.
“Rebecca, you knew Fiona was in pursuit of Eric?” Linda asks. I nod. “What did you do with that information?”
“I basically went nuts. I was losing my mind with worry…I told him about it…I had planned to just outdo her, you know, make Eric so happy that he wouldn’t even notice her. If we’re being honest…I went so far as to ask our friend Leo to come to dinner and distract her.”
She grins. “That’s a fair reaction.” Eric and I sit silent, six inches apart but feeling further away from each other than ever. “There is great love between you. You will get through this. I’m going to suggest that you take some time to be together, a vacation, mini-break, whatever. Take time to do the things you love as a couple, reconnect.”
