“Isn’t it?” he repeated. His tone shifted from desperate to soft and despondent. “How? Who?”
I continued to shake my head. Did it matter? Why make things worse with details?
“When?” he asked.
“May.”
“Five months ago?” He laughed in a burst of dead air before dropping his forehead in his palm. “All this time, I thought . . .”
Tears tickled my nose. My hands flew to my face, an attempt to keep my composure. We sat that way for a long moment, not speaking.
“Who?” he asked again. “Who was it?”
I kept my face buried. “You don’t know him.”
He snorted. When I looked up again, he’d set his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. “I’m such a fool,” he said. “So stupid. Is this what you wanted? To make me look stupid?”
“Of course not,” I said, frowning. “It just . . . happened.”
“Once?”
I cleared my throat and looked away. “Twice,” I lied. I knew I could never bring myself to tell him the truth about the masquerade ball.
“After everything we’ve been through.” His voice pitched. “How could you do this? And why are you telling me now?”
“I’m so sorry. You deserve better.” I approached the table cautiously. My heart pounded as I eased into a chair across from him. “What can I do? To make it better?”
“Seriously? What kind of question is that?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
He shot up so fast that he overturned his chair. As he bent to pick it up, he said, “I have to get to work.”
“Now?” I exclaimed. “We need to discuss this.”
“I should take the day off because you picked now to tell me?” he asked. “Hell of a time. Really, Liv. Now I have to sit through the day thinking about it.”
I looked at him pleadingly, even though his eyes were fixed on the floor. “Don’t go. I’ll tell you anything. Just stay.”
“Yes, you will tell me everything. Later. Right now, I have to go to work.”
“Call in sick,” I implored. “We have to talk about this now. Do it for us. Let’s fix this now, today.”
He gave me a lingering look. “I just really can’t deal with this on top of everything at work. Shit.” He rubbed his temples and muttered, “Why now?”
“Are you going to leave me?” I whispered.
He looked over my head and squinted. His chin trembled slightly. “No. I don’t know. Maybe. I need more info.” He turned away and snatched his blazer from the couch. “And I want the truth tonight. No more secrets.”
He walked out. Seconds later, the front door slammed.
With an unsteady breath, I unplugged the grill and overturned the burnt pancakes into the sink.
It was done. I’d blurted it all out, no planned speech, no words prepared to comfort him, no backup plan in case he’d kicked me out. Completely erratic. I didn’t even recognize myself in that moment.
I grabbed my coat and left for the office, replaying the morning over and over on the way until I thought I might vomit. Not until I was behind my locked office door did I sink into my shame with the onset of rain. I had done to Bill what I’d shielded myself from all these years: I’d ripped the carpet out from under him. I’d shattered his trust. This would destroy him.
I agonized over what would come next. Would he leave me? What would I do? Where would I go? I tried to understand what I was feeling. The thought of him leaving scared and saddened but didn’t surprise me. I almost felt relieved that the day had finally come that my marriage would end the same way my parents’ had. As if I had known all along that I was cursed.
