“It didn’t have to be anyone,” I said. “It just—happened.”
“Who initiated it?”
I made a soft noise as I stalled, racking my brain for a response that wouldn’t make things worse. “I guess he was the first to vocalize it.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
I sucked it up and tried for blunt honesty. “He initiated it,” I said, “but it was my choice in the end.”
“Did he know you were married?”
“Yes.”
Bill jutted his chin, inspecting the mouth of his beer bottle. “A real class act. I guess when you have money and looks, you think you can do whatever the hell you want.”
Despite the blatant slap in the face David had delivered only hours earlier, my instinct was to defend him. I bit back that urge and nodded instead.
“I’m going to make sure he knows that isn’t the case,” Bill said. “I could sue him for this, you know.”
“Suehim? Bill, please,” I said. “I’m here, ready to take the blame. It’s not worth involving David—he knows what he did was wrong.”
“You talk to him?”
“I just meant that—”
“When was the last time you talked to him?”
I shifted against the counter. “He knows that you know the truth. Because I told him.”
“So, today. You spoke to him today.”
My stomach knotted. This wouldn’t work if I didn’t try to be as honest as possible. “Yes. After work, before Gretchen’s, I stopped by his office to tell him.”
After a short pull from his beer, Bill asked, “Did you fuck him?”
“No,” I cried, running my hands through my hair. “I just told him it was—I thought he should know.”
Bill turned away to lean his elbows on the counter and massage his face.
I crossed the kitchen, edged closer to him, and put my hand on his back. “It didn’t—” I paused. When was the time to be honest, and when was the time to lie? I struggled with my thoughts a moment as I stared at his back. “It didn’t mean anything, Bill.” A lie. “You and I can start fresh from here.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he said into his hands. “How am I supposed to move on from this?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did.” I gulped. “It’s something we have to do together.”
“I think you should sleep on the couch tonight,” he said without looking at me.
In a way, I was relieved. We each needed our own space tonight. “That’s fine,” I agreed softly.
He pushed off the counter and left the kitchen.
Later, I pulled linens down from the hall closet. When I passed by the bedroom, I heard him crying. I flattened one hand against the door and the other over my aching heart. He’d truly always been a good husband to me, even if we had our problems. He didn’t deserve this.
Once I’d made up the sofa and turned out the lights, I flipped back and forth on the abrasive couch. I wondered how long it would take us to move on from the affair—until I realized that we might not ever. It would always remain there between us, no matter how much time passed, a permanent mark on our life together. I hadn’t truly grasped the irrevocability of my betrayal until now. This would never go away.
I wanted to regret those moments with David, but I couldn’t bring myself to. During the months after our night in his apartment, I had chased every detail away when it threatened. Remembering was torture.
Now, alone in the dark, I fought to remember. Suddenly, forgetting the details scared me. I clung to them so I could glue them back together like pieces of a shattered vase. The way adoration filled his eyes when he looked at me. Chills lit over my body as I remembered how adoration would melt into lust. I let that look warm me on the cold brown couch.
