Because (Seven Year Itch #4)(22)

I can smell the remnants of something Italian, but don’t dare go in the kitchen to see what it is. My mother sounds like she’s doing the dishes, so I sneak down the hallway to my bedroom.

From now on I’m steering clear of carbs, sugar, and fatty meats. If I want to be the woman I used to be, I need to start from the outside and work my way to my mind. I have to treat this like it’s the only way to save my marriage. Brandon may say he’s content with the way I look, but I’m not. I know I can be better. I don’t just want his approval, I want him to look at me and be proud to be seen with me. I want him to feel like he can’t get better. I need to be everything he fell in love with and more. I’m older. I’m wiser. I’ve given birth to his only child. What I’m looking for isn’t far-fetched. It’s possible if I stick to the plan and see it through.

I only hope he can keep it in his pants long enough to wait for me, but if he doesn’t at least I’ll know I love myself again. I’ll be able to accept what I couldn’t change in my husband, and appreciate the things I learn along the way.

I’m praying it’s as easy as I think it can be, but nothing ever is.

Day one is in the books and I’ve survived. I’ll probably shed more tears before falling asleep, but I don’t give in and head home. One way or another, I’m doing this for me. I have to.

As soon as I change and slip under the covers I hear my phone vibrating. I know it’s either my mother-in-law or my husband, and as much as I want to ignore it, I open the message anyway.

It’s a text from Brandon. My stomach flutters where I see his name appear.



I hate this. You should be here with us. Ab’s been crying all night. She thinks we’re getting a divorce. Is this what you want? Is this how it’s going to be? – Bran



I don’t want to, but I feel the need to write back, even if it causes a fuss. I can’t sleep knowing my daughter is a mess. I feel awful about it and wonder if I should rush over to soothe her. Her fears are normal and expected. I knew this would happen, so I take a few deep breaths and reassure myself that this will pass. She’s going to be okay no matter what, because she has two parents that would do anything for her.



I didn’t set out to hurt my family, if that’s what your asking. You said you would give me time. I’m doing this to make things better. We both knew she’d be sad. It’s the first night. We’ll get on a good schedule and it be easier for her. – Shay



I watch my message get opened and then the phone shows that he’s writing back.



Please come home. – Bran



No. Please don’t ask me again. I’m turning off my phone. If there is some kind of medical emergency call the house number. If not, I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning. I’ll call before she gets on the bus. – Shay



This isn’t going to help our marriage. It’s going to end it. Mark my word. This is all on you. – Bran



He’s getting mad. I expect this to happen, so I suck it up and turn off my device. I’m not going to go back and forth with him for hours, and I’m definitely not going to jump in my car and run home to him. I’m sure I’ll wake up to more messages, but for now it’s quiet.





Chapter 11




For a while after we get home it’s easy. I make sure Aberdeen takes a bath and jump in the shower myself. When I’m done I find her watching television in the living room. I brush her hair and give her a snack, while she finishes up with her last show of the night. This is something her mother does with her, so it’s strange to be able to do it. The thing is, I’m saddened by it. I’ve become used to a routine, yet now we’re forced to change it around.

Aberdeen doesn’t say a word as we sit together. She’s too quiet, and since she was sick a couple days ago, I’m worried. “You feeling okay, love?”

She shrugs. “I wish Mom was here with us.”

I pull her close. “She’ll come home. It’s not forever.” I don’t know this, but I have to reassure my daughter. That’s when it finally hits me hard. There is a chance this is how our lives will be. We’ll share custody and responsibilities of our daughter, while doing our best to avoid each other.

As much as I’d like to think we can be friends, I highly doubt it’s possible. Shayla doesn’t like me or the people I surround myself with. She’ll pick at everything I do in my life until I can’t take it anymore and tell her to f*ck off. This is not how I want my relationship with her to end up, and I’m worried it’s too late to make a difference. I can’t erase what’s been done. We can’t take back what we’ve said to one another. I wish there was a time machine where we could find the exact date and time our marriage went to shit to have a do-over, but who am I kidding? We’ve grown apart. She doesn’t trust me. Honestly, I don’t know if she ever did. Now I wonder if I haven’t given her a dozen reasons not to.

Take the other night for instance. I should have told her about the secretary at the dealership, but I knew I couldn’t. The moment the woman walked into my office I knew my wife was going to freak out. She was beautiful, older, and newly single. It took her a week to hit on me, even after she learned I was married with a child. I’ve turned her down three times, but she’s still pushing my buttons to see if she can break me. The other night she was doing everything in her power to get me to go back to her place. Obviously I didn’t.