Page 82 of Marriage and the Midlife Crisis

There had been another moment that day that had me preparing for the worst, when Melanie had walked into our bedroom as I was putting my clean laundry away.

“I’m getting ready to start dinner. Do you want eggrolls with…”

Her voice had trailed off, and I had paused in the act of hanging up one of my shirts in the closet. When I’d glanced over my shoulder at her, I found her staring at the bed, and I hadn’t been able to decipher the expression on her face.

Confusion.

Pain.

A flash of anger, maybe?

I’d placed the hanger on the closet rod, then turned to face her. Tendrils of dread had wound their way through me as I realized what had happened.

She was staring at the new comforter I’d bought, after Kim had mentioned triggers in one of our sessions.

“Mel?”

It had taken a second for her to force her gaze away from the bed to look at me, and I’d walked over to her so I could reach for her hand.

“You got a new comforter?”

“Yes.” I’d had to clear my throat before I could continue. “Kim mentioned that you may be triggered by things that reminded you of my betrayal. I didn’t want you to ever look at our bed and remember that fucking thong laying there, so I thought maybe a new comforter might help.”

She hadn’t said anything, and I’d rushed to assure her that I hadn’t thrown the old one out. “I had it cleaned, and it’s in a bag in the garage, just in case I was wrong and you wanted to keep it.”

“What happened to the thong?” Her voice had been subdued, and there was no mistaking the pain the question caused her.

“I burned it in the firepit the night you left.” She’d looked at me in shock then, and I’d sheepishly admitted that I’d had a little too much Maker’s Mark that night. “The bourbon came in handy when I couldn’t get the fire going though. All it took was a couple of splashes, and that thing turned to nothing but ash in seconds.”

She bit her lip, and her shoulders shook, and for a few horrified seconds, I’d thought she was holding back a sob. Then a laugh bubbled out of her, followed by another, and then another, and she sat flopped down on the end of the bed as if her legs couldn’t hold her upright any longer.

I’d gingerly taken a seat beside her, and as her laughter died down, I saw the remnants of the anguish still hiding underneath.

She’d sighed and hesitated for a moment before leaning her head on my shoulder.

“Thank you. I love the new bedding, and I appreciate you thinking of it.”

I’d kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I love you.”

We’d stayed there for several minutes before she got up and said she was going to go down to start dinner. She’d turned in the doorway as she remembered what she’d originally come in for.

“We have some of those frozen eggrolls. Do you want some with your fried rice?”

And just like that, the crisis was over, at least for that night.

Later, when we were ready to go to sleep, I’d walked her to the door of the guest bedroom, joking that a gentleman always see his date to the door. I had asked if I could hug her goodnight, and she’d smiled and nodded almost shyly. I’d held on to her as long as I could before she gently pulled away to look up at me. There was a slight flush on her cheeks, and I’d raised my hand to cup the side of her neck, rubbing my thumb along her jaw. My gaze fell to her lips, and it took everything in me not to steal a kiss. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lower lip, and my hand cupped her neck a little tighter in response. She’d gasped then, just a quick little inhale, but it was enough to let me know that she wasn’t unaffected by our closeness.

I’d been trying to force myself to release her when she placed both hands on my shoulders to balance herself as she raised up on her tiptoes to kiss me. It was a light brush of her lips on mine at first, and I froze until she groaned softly and deepened the kiss.

I’d reached for her hips and pulled her close, barely stopping myself from grinding my body against hers as I took over the kiss. Our tongues tangled and released, our mouths devouring each other. She’d run her hands over my shoulders and up the back of my neck before threading her fingers through my hair. When she gave a gentle tug on the longer strands on top, my cock jerked in response, now fully hard and pressing painfully against my zipper.

That was precisely the reason I wore my hair styled the way I did. It was shorter on the sides, but I kept the top a little longer because Melanie liked to have something to grab on to.

It was then that I broke whatever spell had been woven around us.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

That reminder that all wasn’t well in our marriage was all it took for Melanie to pull away. Her hands had dropped from my hair, and she’d gently pressed against my shoulders to put some space between us.