by Jodi Vaughn
I stood near the Italian coffeepot and waited until the coffee was finished brewing. I grabbed my cup and poured in equal parts sugar and cream.
I took a sip and immediately spit it out, spraying coffee all over my white quartz countertop.
I cringed and looked down into my cup. I poured that cup of coffee down the drain and sniffed the carton of creamer. It didn’t smell sour. Maybe my stomach couldn’t handle the sugar.
I rinsed out my cup and set it back under the coffee maker. I thought about just adding creamer, but the thought turned my stomach. Instead, I lifted the freshly brewed black coffee to my lips.
It slid down my throat in a cozy, warm rush.
I liked it. That was odd since I preferred my coffee doctored with ample cream and sugar. But drinking it this way would save me calories so I wouldn’t complain.
I quickly cleaned up the spilled coffee from the counter and sat on a stool at the kitchen island.
Despite my physical exhaustion, my mind raced. I knew I couldn’t just wait around for Miles to come home. I had to do something. Anything. I got up and headed for my laptop. I turned it on and settled on my couch, scouring the internet, looking up statistics on infidelity and divorce. A lot of the advice was stuff I’d heard before: once a cheater, always a cheater.
The statistics on how many husbands cheat floored me, though. Some sites offered hope, saying that an affair was an indicator that something had broken within the marriage.
That information hit me like a ton of bricks. Had I been so blind as to not notice that something was wrong? Had I done this to us?
There was so much information on affairs that it was staggering. There were different kinds of dalliances, and not all of them meant the end of a marriage. Some couples said their marriage was even stronger after the indiscretion.
I had gotten on the internet to find hope, yet I only found my anger.
It made no sense. If Miles were unhappy, why hadn’t he said anything? Why not tell me that he wanted a different life? And how did I think he could have an affair and then just come home?
I was torturing myself, yet I couldn’t help it. I was like an addict craving another hit, but instead of drugs, I needed information. I needed to know everything, or I wouldn’t be able to get over it. Hell, who was I fooling? I may not get over it even after learning everything.
What Miles did was unfathomable and unforgivable.
The phone rang, jerking me out of my self-inflicted torture. I answered it before even looking to see who it was.
“Hello?”
“Rachel.” Miles’ voice came over the phone, slow and low.
My stomach tumbled into a nauseating freefall.
“Yes?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. As much as I wanted answers, that simple greeting was the only thing I could force myself to voice.
“We need to talk.”
“Okay.” My mouth went dry, and my heart raced. I wasn’t feeling hopeful, I feared the unknown. I cleared my throat. “Do you want to come over this afternoon?”
“Yes. I’d like that.”
“Okay.” I didn’t say anything else. I waited for him to say “I love you” like he always did.
“I’ll see you then.”
The line went dead.
My heart ached, and I knew that whatever happened tonight would set the stage for the rest of my life.
* * *
After Miles had hung up, I moved to search on the internet for a different topic. I typed in how to react when your husband reveals an affair. Knowing Miles, who never took responsibility for anything, I also typed in how to prepare for a divorce when you find out your husband is cheating.
There were several betrayed wives’ sites with more details than I wanted to know. The first point they all shared was to secure the money. Apparently, once your husband cheats, it makes him a liar. Cheating doesn’t exist without lies. Miles was now both a cheater and a liar.
The article stated that a liar will do anything to hide their assets in the event it looks like a divorce is on the horizon.
Financial security had always been important to me. Not because I wanted Louboutin’s and Rolex watches. No, I’d grown up in the foster care system, where I never knew where my next meal was coming from or if I would have shoes to wear. Financial security was necessary to me. As important as air.
I pulled up the bank accounts and studied them, looking for large expenditures or withdrawals. I breathed out a sigh of relief when the balances looked right.
I still had a couple of hours until Miles arrived, so I made a list of questions to ask him, to get the details of the affair.
My cell phone rang, and I looked at the caller ID.
Nikki.
My blood ran cold, and the anger resurfaced.
Nikki. My ex-best friend, who had fucked my husband.
I wanted to hear her voice, wanted to see how she would explain sleeping with Miles. To find out exactly what kind of person did that to their best friend. More than that, I wanted to hear her apologize for tearing my family apart.
I held my finger over the Accept button. I really wanted to push it. I really, really, really wanted to hear what the bitch had to say. While I was trying to get my anger under control, the call went to voicemail.
I lowered my head and counted the seconds it would take to leave a message before pulling up the voicemail on my phone.
“You have no new messages.”
I screamed. The bitch didn’t even have the decency to leave a voicemail.
I glanced at the time.
I wanted nothing more than to go over to Nikki’s house and tell her husband, Brad what she’d done. He would be devastated. But, hell, apparently everyone in this situation would end up devastated except the cheaters.
I warred with what I wanted versus what I needed to do.
My sensible side won out. The part that said I needed to get all my ducks in a row.
So, I went back to my research on the internet. I found information on how to make your marriage work after infidelity, along with a list of things the betrayed spouse needed from the cheater. It said that boundaries were important.
I quickly printed off all that info so I could study it while I prepared for my meeting with Miles.
Chapter 13
I’d dressed in black jeans and a fitted cream blouse that clung to my new, slender body. I carefully applied my makeup and straightened my long, black hair. While the other moms sported cute, shorter locks, I’d stuck with long hair because Miles had always preferred it that way.
My mind went right back to Nikki. She and I were as different in appearance as apples and oranges.
I had long, dark hair that almost looked black, while she sported short, blond hair. My eyes were dark blue, and hers were brown. I was a little on the tall side, while she was short.
It made me sick to think that someone I knew so well could betray me—in the most horrific way possible.
I heard the garage door open, and my heart jumped into my throat.
I wanted to be prepared for this meeting. I needed to be. If I lost it, then I would lose whatever footing I had.
I quickly slipped into my red heels and headed out of the bathroom. Once again, I avoided looking at the bed.
My heels made sharp tapping sounds on the hardwood floors and became even louder when I headed into the kitchen.
Miles was standing in the kitchen with his hands in his pockets when I walked in. He hadn’t bothered to shave and had a thick five-o’clock shadow that contrasted with his neatly pressed shirt.
Just looking at him made my heart ache. I held my breath, waiting for him to open his arms. I wanted to run into them, to feel his sorrow and then feel safe again.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.” My voice was but a whisper. My hopes dwindled as Miles stood there, unmoving. His voice sounded foreign to me. He felt like a stranger to me.
I swallowed and forced back my tears. I didn’t wa
nt him to see me cry. Didn’t want him to think me weak. I was going to stay strong. I had to.
He walked towards me, and my heart swelled with hope. This was it. He was going to tell me how sorry he was and how much he loved me.
He ducked his head and went around me to the wine refrigerator. He bent down and pulled out a bottle of cabernet.
“Let’s have some wine,” he said.
Wine? Who the hell wanted wine? We never had wine in the afternoon.
Fear rose up in my chest and marched up my throat. I braced myself while he pulled out two wine glasses from the cabinet and opened the bottle of red.
My legs felt weak. I slid onto a stool at the island to stop from falling down.
And I waited.
He poured the wine and slid a glass towards me.
The distance between us frightened me.
Miles took a sip of the wine and shoved his free hand back into his jeans’ pocket. He glanced out the window into the backyard, never once meeting my eyes.
My stomach was rock-hard. Questions rose up in my mind, and I was afraid I might split open like an overripe watermelon.
“Where did you spend the night?” I vomited the words because he wasn’t offering me anything.
“I got a hotel room.” His reply was measured, calm.
“Have you talked to Nikki?” I hated even saying her name. It felt like a knife to my heart, knowing that someone I loved like a sister had betrayed me.
He didn’t meet my eyes but stared straight ahead. “It was a one-time thing. It won’t ever happen again.”
Disgust swelled and rose in my stomach. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say?” He looked at me. There was nothing in his eyes. Not guilt. Not sorrow. Not regret. All I saw was irritation.
“I’m supposed to do what? Sweep it under the rug and forget all about it?”
“Look, Rachel, we have a good life together. It won’t happen again. Let’s move on.” He casually took a drink of his wine then met my gaze.
In this moment, Miles was more of a monster than the guy who’d kidnapped me. At least that asshole had brought my car back.
Fury swelled inside me until I thought I might burst. I picked up my wine and threw it in his face.
“Are you crazy?” he sputtered and wiped the red liquid out of his incredulous eyes.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” I said, low and lethal. Visions of impaling him on the gate of our subdivision danced in my head. I wanted him to feel pain. I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me.
“Rachel, don’t be rash,” he warned.
“If you don’t get the fuck out of my house, I’m going to shoot your ass.” I meant it. So, help me God, I meant every single word.
“Rachel.” He took a step towards me.
I ran back to the guest bedroom and locked the door behind me. I picked up the pillow I’d slept on and stuffed my face into it as I screamed.
The foam muffled the sound, but nothing could disguise the way my heart had seemingly shattered into shards of thin, red glass in my chest.
“Rachel, open the door.” Miles banged on the wood, and I was tempted to open it. But, I knew if I did, I would likely inflict bodily harm on him. I’d never been so angry in my life.
Then again, I’d never been so betrayed before.
I laid down on the floor and curled up into a ball. Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed loudly, not caring who heard.
I wanted him to break down the door, to see what he had done to me, to see the pain he had caused.
He never did. Instead, I heard his car pull out of the garage, leaving me alone to drown in my pain.
* * *
I stared up at the ceiling until my eyes ached from crying so much. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up to discover that this had been nothing more than a nightmare.
My heart, however, told me that this was not a dream and I wouldn’t just wake up and find that everything was fine.
I’d just stepped into a waking nightmare.
I turned my head, and my gaze found a small picture of me, Arianna, and Gabby that Miles had taken while we were on vacation. We were at an amusement park and standing in front of a castle. The princess had stepped out and stopped to talk to my girls. My daughters both told me how much I looked like that princess. And in response, I had said their father was my prince.
I’d been wrong. He was no prince. He was a monster.
My heart squeezed and ached for my girls. What would happen to us? What would happen to our home?
Those articles I’d seen had said that once a man had been caught cheating, he would either deny it completely or admit everything because he wanted to get caught so the marriage would end.
Miles hadn’t apologized. Nor had he really admitted anything. Of course, he wouldn’t take responsibility.
The doorbell rang, jolting me out of my circling thoughts.
I stayed on the floor, hoping that whoever it was would go away.
The chime sounded again and again and again. If it were a neighbor, they would have gone away by now. It was probably a salesperson. There was nothing I hated more than door-to-door salespeople.
I forced myself off the floor and ran my hands through my hair. I didn’t bother looking at my reflection as I passed the mirror. I could care less what anyone thought. Maybe if I looked as bad as I felt, they would go away sooner.
I barely noticed the cold hardwood under my feet. All I wanted was to get rid of whoever was ringing my doorbell. I just wanted to be alone.
I grabbed the door handle and threw open the door, glaring at the intruder on my stoop.
My kidnapper glared back at me.
My anger intensified. “Go away.”
I shut the door, but he stuck his large boot in the doorway like he had the night before and forced his way inside.
I no longer cared. I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my arm.
“You look like hell, Roadkill.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I feel like hell,” I shouted. I wrenched out of his grasp. “Go away.” I could feel the threat of tears behind my eyes again, and I didn’t want to cry in front of him.
“What’s wrong?” His voice, deep and low, sparked something in my chest.
I didn’t know if it was the stress I was under or the fact that my own cheating husband didn’t have the decency to ask about my emotional needs. Maybe it was because I had, apparently, been decapitated, only to be turned into a vampire by a rancid stranger.
But the second the guy said those two words, I fell apart.
Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed. I buried my face in my hands and slid to the floor in a heap.
The cold winter air whipped in from the open front door. I didn’t have the strength to crawl over and shut it.
I didn’t care about anything at that moment.
I barely noticed when the guy silently walked over to the door and closed it, shutting out the winter wind and shielding me from the cold.
I didn’t flinch when he walked back over to me and knelt, putting his arm around my back and under my legs to lift me into his arms.
I didn’t even fight when he stood and carried me to the master bedroom.
“No, not there.”
He didn’t say a word. Instead, he turned away and headed to the guest bedroom where’d I’d taken up residence ever since my life had turned upside down.
He gently laid me down and pulled the unmade covers over me.
I didn’t say anything about his odor, despite him smelling very skunky and dirty because he was the only person who’d shown me any kindness.
And he had been my kidnapper.
“You need to eat,” he said, looking down at me and tugging the covers up to my chin.
“I can’t eat. I can’t see how I’ll ever survive this.”
His eyes narrowed. “You are now more powerful than you were. You’ll survive
this.”
“Have you ever had someone betray you? Someone you thought you could trust with your heart and your life?” I looked at him through tearstained eyes.
“Yes.”
“How did you go on?”
“I became a vampire.” He shrugged. “I outlived them.”
“Tell me something.”
“I may not have the answer.”
“You’re a man. I need to hear a man’s perspective.”
He waited for my question.
“Why do men cheat on their wives? Why do they risk their families, their marriage, and ignore their vows for sex?”
He blinked and looked at me. “Not all men cheat.”
“I used to think that.” I laughed. “Now, I know I was wrong.”
“Not all men cheat, just the weak ones. There are still men who refuse to harm someone they love. Men who would take their last breath to remain faithful. Perhaps you should be asking why you are still with a man who would cheat?” He stood.
His words struck me, wounded me.
“He wasn’t like this when we got married.” I lifted my quivering chin.
“Wasn’t he?” He turned to go out the door. “Go to sleep. You will soon have to start sleeping in the day and getting up at night. You have a few more weeks before your body starts to demand it. Might as well start now.”
“Wait.” I turned to look at him.
He stopped and looked at me over his shoulder. “What?”
He turned fully then, giving me his undivided attention.
“Why did you come here?”
“I could feel your pain. It was all-consuming, and I couldn’t sleep.”
“You feel what I feel?” My eyes widened.
“Only if it’s a powerful emotion.”
“So, you came to check on me?”
“I came to make it stop so I could get some rest.” His eyes blazed.
His words stung, and I decided it made me like him less. Not that I liked him a whole lot to begin with.
“Are you going to keep showing up at my house unannounced?”
“Yes, until you decide to leave this life and come live with me so I can show you how to be a vampire.”
