"Because..."Just fucking say it,"Because they wouldn't tell me what I wanted to hear."
I did talk to them. They told me that Sophie and I were a team, that this was scary, but we would get through it together and would come out on the other side stronger. It wasalways about teamwork, togetherness, and focusing on taking care of Sophie and her doctor's appointments, treatments, and surgeries, and my selfish thoughts were screamingwhat about me?!
"And she did?"
"...yes."
She laughs then, no warmth, no actual humor in it. "You know, it's actually kind of funny. I distinctly remember thinking'should I be concerned that my future husband is spending so much time with his beautiful coworker?'And you know what I told myself, Paul?"
I can't answer, but the tears roll freely down my cheeks at the pain on her face.
"I thought,'Sophie, come on! This is Paul you're talking about. Your Paul. He loves you, he would never betray you like that.'"Sophie shakes her head and buries her face in her hands, "I'm so stupid."
"No, Sophie," I take another step closer and lay my hands gently on her wrists, intending to pull her hands away from her face to comfort her. Instead, she yanks herself out of my grip as if I've burnt her, but I continue, desperate. "You arenotstupid, you are the most brilliant woman I've ever known. I'm the one that fucked up. I'm the one who ruined this. God, I'm so sorry, sweetie. I'm so fucking sorry."
"Do you love her?" She asks abruptly.
"No," I shake my head, but she just narrows her eyes.
"Do you have feelings for her?"
I think about Elise—her gorgeous body, the ease with her, the shared laughs and jokes, the banter, the flirtatious tone she takes in her husky voice. And I feel light—God help me—I feel light when I think of Elise.
"I… yes."
Sophie doesn't say anything, but she looks at me like I'm astranger. Her eyes burn through me, red-rimmed and teary, and she's shaking. I want to hold her. She's short and so soft, and I always adored how she felt in my arms. I know she won't let me hold her, and I don't deserve to.
She takes a deep cleansing breath, "I don't really care to know the details, but please, just tell me why. And be honest. Why did you sleep with her? Why did you confide in her?"
Honesty. I do honesty. I owe her that much.
"Because I don't know how to be what you need through twelve weeks and surgery and radiation and the—" I stutter through my explanation, my excuses, my justification, and watch as each word hits her. They keep coming, like vomit, and the next ones I can't even stop before they tumble out. "And... we haven't had sex in a long time—"
Her usually kind eyes go ice-cold as she gives a short, disbelieving laugh. "Yes, well, I'mso sorrythat my libido isn't at an all-time high right now on account of, oh, I don't know, me being diagnosed withfucking cancer!"
The comforting words Elise whispered to me at the bar circle around my head. The validating words, the way she tasted like whiskey, the way her lips felt so different from the lips I had been kissing for the last six years. Elise tasted like fun and freedom. I felt like I was twenty-one again—no responsibilities, no heaviness, no cancer...
"It's your life too, you have to do what's best for you..." Elise whispered against my lips—while I was still inside her—her hands buried in my hair.
It felt like permission, it felt like absolution.
And the worst part? I enjoyed it.
Sex with Sophie was always great. She's beautiful with a gorgeous, soft body. Before the diagnosis, our sex life was extremely active. After that, she was scared and busy trying to get everything together with the different appointments andspecialists, and still working full time, so it just went to the back burner.
We still cuddled, we still kissed, we still touched. We just...stopped having sex. I don't even think it was really about sex. It was a moment of fun and reckless comfort after drowning in sorrow and despair, and doctor's appointments and Sophie's terrified tears. One fucking thing I could actually control in my life, as terrible and awful as it was—choosing to have sex with someone other than my fiancée.
And at the time, I enjoyed it. When I went home that night and showered, I felt good. I crawled into bed, Sophie was still out like a light, and I slept like a baby. The guilt didn't hit until the next day when I woke up and saw Sophie getting out of the shower, smiling at me from our ensuite doorway.
I couldn't eat, couldn't even choke down coffee, and when we got into my car...
Sophie sat in the seat I had fucked Elise in and was chirping happily, trying to distract herself, trying to distract me. Meanwhile, I was just paranoid that she could somehow smell the sex and my shame.
"And the surgery—losing your breasts—it's—" My voice drops, useless, and I choke out through a closed throat. "That's… it's a problem for me."
Silence detonates like a bomb between us. I hear the clock, the refrigerator hum, my heart slamming against my ribcage.
And Sophie...
