“Oh, uh, alternator belt. Very last minute, but an easy fix. I had to settle up the cost of the part and labor.”
Second question. “Did you stop and get some milk or anything on your way home from work?”
“Nope, I didn’t know we needed milk.”
Silence.
Third question disguised as a statement. “Oh, so straight home from work. Couldn’t wait to see me, of course.” I somehow managed to not sound betrayed.
“Of course, baby. Always.” He stated simply, kissing my head again before walking away.
This time, I think my heart shattered.
7
THE BREAKING POINT
BECKY
Present day
When trust is lost, so is the relationship. It’s as simple as that.It is that simple, yet I’m sitting here, in our living room, on our couch. Alone, again. Unable to sleep, again.
This time, though. This fucking time, I’m not warmed by the rage of discovering a sketchy, stray message from a faceless woman. Nope. This time I’m frozen in pain at the discovery of a betrayal.
I’m haunted by the evidence of us as a whole because now…now there’s athem.I swallow back a sob and hug myself just a little tighter. Shivers skitter across my skin as I stare blindly at the wall filled with the memories of us. Dead center sits an oversized canvas my sister gave to everyone pictured: our parents, herself, our brothers, and me for a “late Christmas gift.” It’s a massive photo of my family wearing matching holiday sweaters—Carter and I standing in the back with equally impish grins on our faces. I can’t seem to tear my eyes from our red tinged cheeks and the place where his arms are wrapped tightly around me. I blink, and my attention hooks onto another with him and his family. There, we went and rented a beach house together. The edges of my mouth nearly lift at the memory of himtrying to convince me seafood was good by catching and cooking something himself. I did not eat it. He did, and he got food poisoning.
Finally, I move my gaze to the mantle of our fireplace. There sits the most recent addition to our relationship shrine. The seven by ten frame holds an image of us from last fall. My ring, proudly displayed on the hand resting on his chest, feels suddenly heavy on my hand. For the first time since Carter placed it there, it feels wrong, unnatural.
I crossed all my t’s and dotted all of my i’s. I didn’t condemn him as guilty before I looked at all the pieces. Separated, each situation really wasn’t that big of a deal. They were not dealbreakers. Our relationship was worth an uncomfortable confrontation and an argument to fix what was damaged. Logically, I knew we were struggling, but things were still whole. We were whole. Fractured, not broken.
Now, sitting here with his lies echoing in my mind, images of him touching her so intimately play over and over again. They looked striking together. Nothing like the jarring juxtaposition of him and me. More thoughts flow through my mind, more connections. Dinners and dates missed and cancelled. Messages deleted. It all comes together to paint an ugly picture of the end of us and the beginning of them. I know now that our beautiful relationship is no longer salvageable—it’s simply, logically broken.
I don’t know how it could be anything but over.
A sound in the kitchen draws my attention to Carter, standing there, looking at me. He looks shattered. Why would he?Why does he think he has the right to feel anything right now?He says nothing, only stares at me with tired eyes, holding my gaze with an anguished one of his own.
I break the silence.
“You’re having an affair.”
His eyes grow huge in a second, and he jumps up and away from the counter, moving toward me in quick, long strides. His face pale, panicked, and annoyingly confused.
“No, Becks, never. How could you even say such a thing?”
“Because you keep lying to me.” I manage to use the ice thatcovered me before and wrap it around me as protection. I’m cool and collected.
He blanches. Practically ghost white.
“Ly-lying…?” He stutters, obviously fishing.
“Yeah Carter, lying.” I respond, that same cold lacing through my words.
He’s not going to risk addressing the wrong thing.I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his hesitation.I’m not worth his honesty.
“Where were you last night?” I ask. I’m not playing any games. This is it.
If possible, he becomes even paler. My stomach drops. Any semblance of hope I had for a logical explanation officially, completely dissipates.
