Bereft (Seven Year Itch #2)(5)

How long had it been going on?

Was I so na?ve I didn’t see a change in him?

What would happen next?

How would I survive?

How much would a divorce cost me?

Would I lose the support of my step-daughter if I left him?

Would she take his side?

Then there was the grief, and boy did it hurt.

How could he do this to me?

To us?

Why?

What had I done to deserve it?

When did our marriage start failing?

More playful banter could be heard echoing off the high ceilings in the foyer. I covered my mouth in disbelief. This was obviously a scandalous affair. The moans were louder, and I’d be an idiot not to recognize what my husband sounded like when he was getting off.

“Turn around.”

“Right here on the steps? Mr. Grayson, you’re a bad boy.” More giggles and thumping. “Twice in one day?”

“I can’t help it. You make me crazy.”

The resonances allowed me to envision it playing out. Bile rose to my throat, imagining my husband balls deep inside of another woman, if she could even be called that. I recognized that voice. I knew exactly who she was.

This child had grown up spending half her time at our house, going on vacations with us, and celebrating holidays. I’d purchased her a Christmas gift since she was ten years old. How could she come on to my husband? Had he come on to her? Was this a mutual attraction? How long had they been f*cking around? Did she call him daddy? Did she want to?

The more my mind wandered, the harder it was to remain silent.

I sank down to the floor and began to sob again, this time for a whole different reason. Never in my life had I felt so lost, used, and abandoned. Before I knew it the powder room door was being opened all the way. Grayson stood there staring at me, his face red, hair disheveled, and top unbuttoned. Behind him was my daughter’s best friend, Kyla. I wanted to throw up when her eyes met mine, shocked and concerned. She couldn’t begin to understand what she’d done, and how it would impact her friendship with our daughter.

I pointed to the door, gritting my teeth as the words came out. “How dare you? Kyla, I treated you like a daughter. He’s like a father to you. This is over! Do you hear me? It’s over! Get out of my house! You’re no longer welcome here, and if I catch you anywhere near my family, I’ll tell your parents what you’ve been doing.”

“We care about each other. Grayson, tell her,” she defended.

She was lucky I didn’t turn around and grab the lid to the toilet, beating her with it until she was a puddle of nothing but blood. Normal human beings aren’t capable of such violence. We know right from wrong, but in this instance, I totally could have done it without considering the consequences.

“Rachel, please,” Grayson defended. “It’s not what you think.”

My finger moved in his direction. “Shut up! Just shut the hell up. Not what I think. Do I look stupid and blind? I want her out of here now!”

She was crying, not that I gave two shits. I watched her run upstairs, then come back down with a handful of items. She didn’t look back when she exited the home, I know because I watched her every step.

This was where I tell you I slit his throat and watched him bleed out. Isn’t that what every scorn woman imagines when she catches her husband with another woman?

Okay, maybe that was a bit brazen. My first inkling was to hit him. I smacked my hands against his chest, pushing him backwards with each blow. My words made no sense as I screamed and cried to his discerning grimace. “How could you? How could you do this?”

He tried catching my violent arms to keep me from moving. “Would you stop and listen to me?”

Finally I did as he asked, but not because he wanted me to. I didn’t have the strength. I couldn’t begin to comprehend what was happening, and I didn’t want to. My body was shutting down like it was going into a self-containment mode. I didn’t want to feel anything, so I went blank, like a dormant machine being turned off at the source. “Get out,” I whispered with barely the ability to say it.

“This is our home. I’m not going anywhere. I was curious, that’s all. It won’t happen again.”

“Get out,” I repeated, this time gritting my teeth. “She said you care about each other. This obviously wasn’t the first time. I can’t look at you. I’m sick to my stomach, and I want you to leave. You’re not welcome here either.”

“You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m going anywhere, Rachel. I pay for this house. Maybe if you gave me attention I wouldn’t have to go elsewhere. It’s not like this should be a shock to you. We haven’t been on the same page in years.”

Truth be told, I was too comfortable. Life was monotonous. I never imagined he would stray. I never thought I had to keep one eye open because he’d do something so scandalous behind my back.

I’d never slapped my husband before, so when my hand came up and made contact with his stubbly cheek, I think for a second I felt guilty, until I realized how good it felt to express my rage. “How dare you? How dare you do something like this and blame me? This is your fault. It’s your mess, and I suggest you start cleaning up. Now, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you, get out of this house. I can’t look at you right now. I need to be alone.”