I handled our marriage and my affair... the same way I handled work and the rest of my life.
Two worlds. Kept perfectly apart.
“Over time,” I say, “it became easier to believe nothing would ever change. When I felt you pulling away... that’s when I started to look for Maya a little less. But I didn’t stop.
And I had no intention of stopping. Just... reducing the frequency. Being home more.”
I look at her, searching for a reaction. She gives nothing away. “There was no reason for me to stop... because you would never find out. And in my mind, there was no reason to give up something I had convinced myself I needed.”
“Needed?” she asks, incredulous.
“With Maya... there were no expectations,” I say hoarsely. “She was there whenever I wanted… In whatever way I wanted. No questions or demands.”
I hesitate. “What I’m about to say will probably make me sound like an even colder bastard than you already think I am.”
“It was all part of the thrill… The fantasy of control. Of living two separate lives. From the outside, everything looked perfect—a wife I loved, brilliant children, a company thriving, a career at its peak.”
I shake my head slowly.
“And a younger, beautiful woman catering to my every need.
I felt untouchable. Like I was playing at the highest level of my life.”
When holding her gaze becomes unbearable, I finally look away. My eyes land on a picture frame. Ceci with our kids.
“I always had an excuse.”
“I always would have.”
She studies me for a moment, her eyes guarded. “I don’t understand.”
“The excuse was always there,” I murmur. “And that’s all it ever was. An excuse.”
“A permission slip I kept writing for myself... to do whatever I wanted... convinced I’d never have to pay for it.”
I take a shaky breath.
“They weren’t even new. I did the same thing years ago… when I was only home for dinner two nights a week during ‘difficult periods.’ When I was always the last to show up to the celebrations you planned on your own for days. And my excuse was always the same… My job was too important. You and the kids would understand.
I kept telling myself I was building a legacy for us—that was the grand excuse. But the truth? I felt like I was losing territory in my own home.”
I close my eyes and gather the courage I’m not sure I even have. When I open them again, the truth comes out.
“And then... when you started building something that was yours... I resented you.”
Ceci sets her mug down on the coffee table and leans back against the couch, crossing her arms.
“You resentedme?” she asks, stunned.
“For what? For being there for our children when you weren’t?
Or was it because I gave myself to you at my own expense for nearly two decades? Did you resent me for doing everything I could to hold our life together when the foundation had already started to fracture?”
Shame burns under my skin as I finally confess, “The USA Today offer.”
Her brow furrows in confusion. Then her eyes widen.
“Even after the fight we had... even after you supported me and told me to take it?”
