Bereft (Seven Year Itch #2)(12)

“Lord, please help me through this,” I kept repeating in my head.

I stepped over to the window and peeked outside, watching him get in his vehicle. For a few minutes he sat there with his hands covering his face. I could tell he was breaking down from the way his body was shaking. I put my hand over my face to try and contain the emotional pull it gave me. It was difficult seeing him in pain, and not being able to run to him. I had to be strong. I had to keep reminding myself that he was the enemy, for the moment at least. Until I could face him and not want to strangle the life from his body, it was best we were apart.

When he finally pulled out of the driveway I felt both relieved and alone.

Why was this happening to me?

I spent the night on the couch again, my eyes wide open, unable to close for fear of what I’d see when I fell asleep. This was the second night I’d gone without rest, and it was taking a toll on my sanity. When early morning came and I still couldn’t relax, I guzzled the remainder of the bourbon, while holding my nose to elude the strong taste. I don’t know how long it took it to do it’s job, but eventually I found peace and passed out.

I didn’t dream for the few hours my body rested. The morning sun awakened me, alongside of a killer headache. My cell phone had died sometime during the night. After taking some pain killers, I plugged it into the charger and decided two days was far too long to go without showering. The hot beads of water was almost as good as a deep tissue massage. I became more alert, and while I stood under the stream of the steaming waterfall. I started to see things in a different perspective. It was obvious I couldn’t spend the rest of my life hiding out in a pair of overstretched yoga pants. I had to be strong, no matter what the outcome. I had to find resolution, because the ball was in my corner.

For the time being, I needed to focus on something other than my marriage. I was going to take the job with Chad, and hopefully it would keep me occupied, and help time heal my wounds. If not, at least I’d have money to feed my new bourbon habit.





Chapter 6


Rachel


“Chad, it’s me, Rachel.”

“Caller I.D. has been out for a while. I know exactly who it is.”

I hated his sarcasm. “I’m calling to accept your offer. I’ll assist you with whatever you need to start the new company, but I have certain requests which need to be met before it’s a final decision.”

“Is that so?” he paused for a second, and I half expected him to have hung up. “I’ll have a car pick you at four. Can you be ready by then?”

“Ready for what?”

“We’ll discuss your terms over dinner. I’ve got a couple meetings this morning, but I’ll be free and starving by this afternoon. That should give you enough time to jot down whatever you’re thinking so we can discuss it.”

I considered telling him I wasn’t going to be seen in public with him, but this was about a job. It was appropriate and professional. “I’ll be ready.”

“See you later. Oh, and Rach…” I hated when he called me that. “Please make sure you shower. Your hair was looking a bit sticky yesterday. I’ll see you soon.”

The call ended abruptly, and I could almost see the snarky look on his face after getting in the last bit of sarcasm before hanging up. The guy made me want to pull out my so-called sticky hair and scream. Why did he think his shit didn’t stink?

It was weird how I hadn’t been able to walk upstairs in my house in fear of finding the sheets in disarray. I’d showered in the downstairs bathroom to avoid it. I didn’t want the image of Kyla and Grayson rumbling in my sheets to be a permanent photograph held captive in my over-imaginative brain. I creaked open my bedroom door and coasted the room with my eyes. The bed was made, just how I’d left it. Wherever they’d been screwing, it hadn’t been in our bed, at least not this time. Still, instead of heading into the bathroom to freshen up for the second time, I began stripping the bed. I needed to bleach away any remnants of the two of them. When I had everything in a pile on the floor, I stared at it, thinking back to how many wonderful memories we’d made making love ourselves. I recalled the way he’d touch me, kiss and caress my skin, like I was precious and the only person to ever hold his heart. Grayson was an amazing lover. Imagining him giving that kind of affection to someone else made my stomach churn.

I promised to love and cherish him forever, for better or worse. This was obviously the worst possible scenario. I’d think I’d rather find out he was a cross dressing transvestite who longed to have a sex change and a feminine name like Precious. Okay, that was a bit drastic, but you get my point.

I fell down onto the plush gray carpet and curled up in ball, breaking down once again at the mess my marriage was in. For someone who hated the idea of an affair, I felt the need to know every detail about his betrayal. It made no sense. Why would I want to put myself through such horror? What good would it do?

Finally, when I felt like my tears were dried up, I got myself up and headed into the master bathroom. The white Carrera marble was cold on my bare feet as I stepped across it to turn on the spigot. I don’t know what made me do it, but I looked down at the drain, curious to find a strand of hair that wasn’t my color. I closed my eyes immediately and turned away. I had to stop this. Even if there were remnants, I couldn’t change the past. I had to get over this looming darkness and move forward. It was how I coped, and the way I’d be able to forgive. Until I was willing to let go, it would never happen.