It was intimate, like they existed in their own little world, andit cuts me right to the bone. Her giving him that teasing look, him kissing her hand, her smiling at him like he's her hero, him gazing at her like she's everything...
I had that. I hadher.
"Sophie is..." I start, my eyes not seeing Dr. Forseti or this office. They just see Sophie smiling at me. "Beautiful."
Dr. Forseti's pen scratches something down on her pad, but I don't look at her. In my mind, I'm somewhere else—coffee dates near my office, Sophie flinging a sock at me while she folds laundry, her handing me my coffee and lunch in the morning when I left for work. Cozy holidays and family dinners, her laughter echoing through our apartment.
Sophie, my Sophie.
I clear the emotion from my throat. "She's smart, works as a Financial Analyst. She's neat and tidy, preferring things to be in order. She's caring, likes to bake and read." I laugh as the images come unbidden, surrounding me like one of her hugs. "She wouldn't kill any bugs we found in the apartment. She would shriek my name, yelling for me to come save her, but wouldn't let me squish it. She said she felt bad because it was probably scared too. She'd make me walk outside to release it, and I always did. She always left these little notes in my lunch bag—just little notes to let me know she loved me..."
"She sounds wonderful," Dr. Forseti says, and the warmth in her voice slices me open. "She sounds like someone you loved."
"Love," I correct, automatic, helpless. "I still love her. She is the only woman I've ever really loved." I stare down at my hands, clenched in front of me, and bile churns violently in my gut. "And Icheatedon her."
"Why do you think you cheated on her, Paul?"
The question is gentle, not prying, just curious.
That's it, right? The reason why I'm here.
Why did I do it? What were the reasons? Why did I take asledgehammer to my near-perfect life?
Because she was going to have cancer, and I was terrified to lose her.
Because her appearance was going to change—her hair, her breasts. I was too weak to handle it.
Because I was terrified the cancer would change her and she wouldn't be my Sophie anymore.
Because I wanted one second of attention.
All of those whys sound pathetic.
"I don't know,” I grit out, running my hands through my hair. “I don't know why I fucking did it. Any reason I have in my head doesn't seem good enough."
"No reason you come up with is going to feel good enough, because the fallout is devastating. Excruciating." Dr. Forseti leans forward slightly, her voice low but firm, and meets my eyes without flinching. "I'm not here to excuse you, Paul. You cheated on your fiancée. You betrayed the woman you love. I'm not here to judge you or absolve you. I'm here to help you figure outwhy. Did you cheat on her with someone you know well?"
"My coworker, Elise."
Elise has called nonstop for the last week. I haven't seen her since I walked out of Rhea's apartment. I don't want to speak to her—ever again, if I’m being honest. I know that I’m not that lucky. We’ll probably run into each other somewhere in this town.
But, for right now, I don't know where she is, I don't know where she's staying, and frankly, I don't care.
If she fades into obscurity, tucking tail and going back to Boston to beg for her family to take her back, I don't care to know. It’s a cruel kind of irony, she lied to me—lies by omission, lies so much like the ones I told Sophie.
Elise had gone on and on about her affluent family, her real estate mogul father, and her former Miss Massachusetts mother.Her Ivy League education, her luxurious vacations, and her clothing and jewelry.
When I had asked deeper questions, she was incredibly good at deflection. Or maybe I was just gullible. She had said that Rhea was a friend of a friend and had asked Elise to live with her to save on rent, and Elise had agreed as if she was doing her a favor.
Initially, I told myself that paying for her meals and gifts was what a good friend would do. Then, a good boyfriend. I bought her things because it made her happy, and that’s what you do for the woman you care about.
Care. I suppose I did care for Elise, in a way.
ButLove? No. Not even close. When Elise had said the wordloveto Joe and Rue, it felt like snapping awake from a nightmare.
The only woman I ever loved was Sophie.
I don't feel anything for Elise, except regret and shame. I think back to every encounter, every harmless conversation at work, where I thought I was just venting to a friend. I think about when I started to really look at Elise, eyes lingering on her legs and chest, but then snapping back and thinking of Sophie. I think of the times we had sex, and every time we made promises of a future that I don’t want.
