I’ve always believed this rough patch is temporary, that we can make it through anything.
It hurts more than I was ready for, to hear outright that she might not feel the same.
All the hinting at whatever this is, all the dancing around the core of her distrust, all the times I tried to get down to the bottom of things with her, to prove myself to her newly…I’ve failed. Clearly.
She falls utterly still, staring deep into my eyes with those gorgeous hazel ones of hers, and I’m terrified when I see the deadness within them.
“How long have you been jerking off to pictures of other women, Chance?”
My face falls. That isnotwhat I expected to come out of her mouth.
Confusion. Shock. Disbelief. I don’t know which to feel the strongest, each emotion is barreling into me as I dissect the meaning behind her words.
My first inclination is to fight her on this.
I would never.
But Idid.
Once.
One time.
And apparently, she fuckingsawit.
“No.” The word leaves my mouth so quietly, I’m not entirely sure she heard me. But nowmyeyes are watering, and I’m pretty sure the ground is spinning, getting closer to me as I struggle to inhale a solid breath. After everything I’ve told her since we started our deal, she thinks it’s all a fucking lie because of thatonetime I tried to fill that fucking hole in me.
I drop down into a crouch, my head falling into my hands, and shake my head back and forth, over and over again.
“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”
I know it’s not helpful, but it’s all I can say. They’re the only words that will come out, as I start to cry in earnest. Full-on sobs that wrack my entire body, as I crouch before her, my head in my hands. I know what seeing me like that would do to her. That one weak moment is the last thing I would have ever wanted her to see. Hurting my wife, after everything we’ve been through and all she’s done for me and this family of ours, it hurts worse than anything she could possibly do to me.
I’m hearing everything she told me the last time we were out here, baring ourselves on this patio, and I’m hearing it differently now. All of her hurt, all of the rejection she felt, it was through the lens of seeing me as a man who wanted someone else. Someone who wasn’t her. And it’s all clicking for me, far too fast to process, hurting far too deeply to come to grips with in an instant.
I don’t know if she’s oblivious to my pain, but she keeps talking like she doesn’t realize she’s slicing me with each word, and that crack inside me just gets worse as she goes.
“I keep trying to get past it. But it's all I can see when I close my eyes.” Her tone goes from almost pitying to something darker, something hollow and much scarier to me.
I bury my head in my knees and cover it with my forearms, like that will take the pain away. Like that will undo what she saw. What tore us apart, maybe for good.
“It was a breaking point for me. Realizing that you wanted someone else, something I can’t ever be for you again.”
I force myself to look up from my position close to the ground, where I feel smaller than a single atom, as broken as I’ve ever been, and meet her gaze to plead with her. “No, no, no, Di, it’s not like that.”
She raises her eyebrows at me in disbelief, but she hasn’t walked away yet, so she’s obviously willing to hear me out. That thought gives me the strength I need to stand up, gulp a full breath down, and grasp her hands in mine to get her to listen, get her to see. I’m frantic, but try to hold onto the belief that she’ll hear me out, and hope I don’t scare her away with my panic.
I take another deep breath to try to calm down and gently pull her to the beaten-up couch, and tug her to sit down with me. I’m actually not sure if my legs will support me during everything I need to say to her, so this is mostly for me, but she acquiesces, settling in next to me, which bolsters my confidence enough to meet her in the eye and try to get the words out.
The hard look in her eyes scares me, my stomach bottoming out somewhere around my asshole, but I remind myself that it’s good this is out, that I can tell her the truth, and hopefully we can finally heal each other, body and soul.
“I don’t know where to start,” I begin, and of course, her salty sass does.
“How about you start by telling me how long you’ve been jerking off to other women? Has this been happening the whole time we’ve been together? Did it start once I started gaining weight during pregnancy? When I couldn’t lose it afterward?”
The fact that she eventhinksI would want her less because of those changes to her body slice my insides in new ways I didn’t know were possible. Like my soul is a physical part of me that she’s lacerating with her sharp words.
“God, no, Di. I swear it. Your pregnancies only ever made you more beautiful in my eyes. You have to know that. I meant it when I said there’s never been anyone else for me since we first met.”
