Even remembering how I felt makes me feel guilty, especially now,afterthat damned kiss.
Especially now that I realize I confusednew and shinywith excitement, which made me ignore my wife, maybe even resent her a little.
I can’t believe I let it happen. Let another woman kiss me. Place her lips on mine. Be intimate with me.
It was after Thanksgiving Dinner.
Diana says she wants to talk about work. We go outsidein the snow and walk to the gazebo. My mother just had it built.
It comes with a glass cover.
It’s pleasant, even on a frigid day.
“Aiden, I want to ask you something.” She looks nervous. I give her a reassuring look.
“Anything, Di.”
She smiles, licks her lips. “I…don’t….” She trails off, shaking her head. “I…never mind.”
“Sweetheart, what’s up?”
She looks at me with moist eyes, and my heart pounds in my chest. Something is wrong, and I want to fix it. I don’t like seeing Diana upset.
“Are you happy in your marriage?” Her words are a whisper.
I frown. “What?”
“Are you?”
“Yes…I think so.”
She puts a hand on my chest. “We spend a lot of time together, Aiden. I can feel it, too.”
I look at her painted nails, Fire Engine Red, against the white of my dress shirt. I raise my eyes to hers. “Feel what?”
“Us.”
She steps closer. Goes on tiptoe and…places her lips against mine.
It’s a shock.
My mouth opens without me thinking about it. Her tongue touches mine.
For a moment, we stay locked.
Then, an eternity later, reality slams into me. I step back, away from her, away from the man I don’t want to be.
“What the hell, Diana?” I snap, furiously swiping my mouth with the back of my hand, as if I can scrub away the taint she’s just put on my marriage.
Whatever flicker of attraction I once felt for her—something I can admit now—vanishes in an instant, burned out by anger and disgust.
She’s exciting. Interesting. Understands my work. Is beautiful as fuck.
But she isn’t Mia.
She isn’t soft, warm, and gentle. She doesn’t make me laugh with stories about her students. She doesn’t make sure that I have my migraine pills with me, because she can see, even before I can, that it’s coming. She doesn’t hold my hand when my father makes me feel small. She doesn’t do any of that.
I love my wife.
