Emilia and I had requested the day off at our respective jobs so I could get ready for Caleb’s office holiday party that was happening tonight. I needed to get myself ready, and was sorely lacking the motivation to do so. I knew I would need my bestie to talk me up. When he came home three weeks ago, and told me when the party was this year, he asked me to let him know my dress color. Yes we were not on good terms, but he was trying. He had decided he was going to try to be cute by coordinating his suit with my dress like we high-schoolers all over again.
At least he was trying.
I just didn’t know if I could keep trying.
I kept replaying their texts, and the nudes I saw every time I closed my damn eyes. I kept replaying how he called her and broke it off, analyzing every bit of it, searching for a tell or a sign that he was lying when it happened. I felt like I was on a bus to Crazy Town, and I was driving it.
The thought had me setting the two different earrings down, quickly losing the motivation for anything but ice cream and nineties heartthrobs. I had picked out a tea-length, dark green dress with long, sheer poofy sleeves down to the wrist and a plunging neckline that I paired with gold and pearl jewelry. Ilooked stunning in it and knew that I would be a show stopper in it with my red hair. I was going to have my hair set in Old Hollywood curls, delicately pinned to my head, giving Lauren Bacall vibes. Make up to match and everything, down to the T-strap shoes I’d been dying to wear. I was hopeful that tonight would be as close to perfect as it could get.
Even if everything fell apart, at thevery least, I’d look fabulous.
Caleb had promised earlier in the week that he would be picking me up from our flat so he could escort me. He did not want me to have to search for him all alone. I thought that was very gentlemanly and something he hadn’t been so thoughtful of in a while. His company party was something I looked forward to each year. He was always a little over the top with spoiling me since we were so close to the holidays.
When he sent a text earlier today, telling me that plans had changed and about how he’d meet me at the venue as he was trying to finish all his work with it being a long weekend, I sighed. I hated that I was already anticipating this night going sour. Still. The knot in my stomach after reading his text had me wanting to stay home, but a final glance in the mirror pushed me to walk out the door.
I looked too good to sit at home and let this masterpiece Emilia had worked on all afternoon go to waste.
Alas.
I was forced to catch a cab downtown at a quarter till seven, The pit in my stomach twisting into something ugly as I anxiously checked my phone for any kind of communication from my husband. I hadn’t heard a peep from him since four o’clock, and my wifey senses were tingling, going off like a damnfireworks display. The knot in my stomach grew tighter with each minute that ticked by on the cab ride there. It was that horrible foreboding sense that tonight was going to go very, very badly.
I could feel the familiar sting of my eyes, and tickle of my nose telling me the tears were on their way, and all because of this anxiety I was feeling. I blinked them back, refusing to let them fall as I gave myself the pep talk of the century.
I am a bad bitch. I look perfect, my armor flawless. Not a curl out of place, no smudge or smear of my make-up.
I snapped my spine back into place, throwing my shoulders back, and reminding myself to hold my head high this evening. I checked my phone once more as the cab pulled up to the old manor his company rented out for the Christmas party every year.
It was one of those incredibly old homes from the 1800s, but well maintained and stunning inside with its original woodwork, including the parquet flooring. It was three stories, with a large terrace lining the second floor, large potted plants offering some semblance of privacy if you needed some air. It was simply stunning, something of grandeur from the past so perfectly preserved. The cab pulled up to the front door in the loop style driveway and a valet opened my car door, holding his hand out in an offer, helping me out.
It should have been Caleb.
Shaking my head, I brushed the thought away as quickly as it came. I looked fabulous and that was all that mattered. We were going to have a good night after this one little snafu. I had to give this a fair shot, even though I could feel myself pulling farther and farther away from him. I walked in, shoulders back,head high, spine straight and graceful like I owned this place. I was moving up the stairs that led to the second floor in hopes that I could find my husband.
Since he wasn’t at the entrance of the venue.
Not where he said he would be.
I had already smiled and nodded at a few of his coworkers who came to say hello or compliment my dress. Once on the second floor, I was looking around when I spotted Caleb’s boss, Mr. Westwood. The man was a billionaire and took pride in his appearance and maintaining a certain sense of decorum, which I assumed was the reason why he booked this venue every holiday. It was always decorated to include as many natural decorations as possible. The place smelt of pine, cinnamon, and oranges. It was a delicious, comforting scent in the middle of a gorgeous old ballroom.
Mr. Westwood was a very private person, but I enjoyed speaking with him at the previous Christmas parties. He was polite, observed manners and what the polite thing to do was most of the time. He was also the most neutral office person I could mingle with, as he made it a point not to get involved in office gossip. He didn’t like poking into others’ lives. When I asked why he had that stance as the boss, he said that he didn’t like others poking into his life outside of work. I steered our quiet wallflower chat elsewhere last year.
He saw me walking in, alone, and gave me a nod and a stern expression asking where Caleb was. I gave him a nod in return and kept my gaze sweeping the floor for my husband.
Then, I spotted him.
He was standing there with a tall, leggy, dirty blonde with fake tits who was draping herself all over him. I stared athim as he didn’t try too hard to pry her claws off him. He wasn’t exactly winning any brownie points for his efforts. I rolled my eyes because the man was just shuffling around, thinking that if he kept moving slightly she’d somehow get the heck off him. I moved over to one of the giant columns holding the structure up, as I waited and watched him frantically looking around in an increasingly desperate bid to find me.
I decided to wait for him to find me. For him to know that I’d seen his weak attempts to pushBeckyaway. This octopus with her wild tentacles had to be her. Otherwise I had bigger problems than one woman wanting my husband. I wanted him to know I wasn’t impressed because a kitten could have fought her off better than he was at the moment. I mean, even a newborn’s sense of self-preservation would have kicked in already. The baby would probably vomit on her just to get away.
When our eyes finally locked, he paled, looking near death. He looked guilty, like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He pushed her off once again, more firmly this time, and stepped away from the succubus, finally making his way to me. The leggy Becky followed him as he walked away from her until her eyes landed on me. I could see the moment it registered that I was his wife. I could feel the hate and anger coming off of her as her gaze bore into me. She was sizing me up, trying to make me feel small. But I didn’t.
I wasn’t the homewrecker here.
She was furious while I beamed at him, making it seem as though everything wasa-okayandhunky-doryin our own little world. I registered the moment it sunk in as I kissed his cheek as he hugged me, leaving the lipstick stain on his cheek. Marking him tonight as mine. I saw when it clicked that he was choosing me over her.
That he was staying with me, being faithful to me.
Even though, in my heart, his weak attempts at getting her off of him pointed to something more broken in our marriage than I had initially thought. I just didn’t knowiforhowwe could fix it. His smile was stiff, strained as he kissed my cheek.
