I stare at the ceiling, eyes burning from the lack of sleep. I must’ve gotten, what? an hour? Maybe two? The rest of the night I just lay here, replaying everything on a loop.
I almost cheated on my wife.
Jesus Christ.
My stomach twists. I roll onto my side and stare at her empty half of the bed.
Will she forgive me if she ever finds out?
I would’ve forgiven her. Eventually, I would’ve. I was angry. And angry people do stupid things.
Will she do something stupid now?
She screwed up. I screwed up. In some cosmic, messed-up sense, we’re even.
But I can’t tell her that. Even in my head, it sounds screwed up.
And she’s pregnant.
The stress won’t be good for the baby. The best thing I can do, the only thing, is shove this down somewhere deep and pretend it doesn’t exist. Move on, act normal, be the husband she expects, the father our kids need.
I rake a hand through my hair and let out a shaky breath.
It’s the worst possible time to have taken the day off.
Yesterday I was glad for it. I thought I’d celebrate my promotion the right way, then take my family out for dinner. Sleep in this morning. Make Lore coffee. Make Milo breakfast. Just… be normal.
Now I can’t even look at myself.
I can’t pick up a shift either. I don’t want my first official day as sergeant to be on no sleep and with a hangover. I already feel like shit; I don’t need to embarrass myself in front of the entire unit too.
So instead, I’m stuck here. I can’t stay home, Lore deserves better than me sulking around, lying by omission. Harvey has work. Zoey probably has classes. That’s what happens whenparents decide to start over when their youngest is twelve, your sibling has class when your marriage is spiraling out of control.
I could always go by my parents’. Mom has work, but Dad’s usually home.
Dad won’t ask questions I don’t want to answer. He’ll just sit there with his coffee, grumble about the news, complain about “the new generation,” and offer me more food than I can eat.
I used to think my dad was this big, mean police officer and he was. Strict as the stick he used when we misbehaved. Unbending. A man who believed discipline was the first language and everything else came second.
But ever since he retired… we’ve gotten to see another side of him.
The side that offered to watch Milo the moment Lore went back to work. He cooks dinner for us to take home when he can. Lets Milo crawl all over him like a jungle gym without a single complaint.
It’s weird, seeing the same man who told me to lower my voice every time I talked to him turning into this patient, soft-hearted grandfather who lets Milo interrupt every sentence and never raises so much as an eyebrow.
It’s like retirement brought out a version of him none of us knew existed.
And right now… I need that version.
I don’t bother showering. I don’t shave. I just pull on clean clothes, run a hand through my hair, and get the hell out while Lore’s not in sight.
She must be in the backyard or the bathroom. I don’t stop to check. I don’t trust myself to look at her yet. So, I grab my keys off the counter, and head for the door.
I’m in my car and reversing out of the driveway before she can stop me.
The drive helps. A little. The road is quiet, and I keep the windows cracked, letting the cold air bite at my face.
Halfway there, I stop at a small bakery and grab donuts and coffee. Dad’s got high blood sugar, so I pick out the no-sugar-added fruit one he pretends to hate but always finishes.
