Frayed Silk(2)

I lay awake for what feels like hours, but a quick glance over at the clock shows it’s only been about forty-five minutes. I can’t get my mind to turn off. It feels like it’s been tangled in knots for an eternity.

Have I tried to talk to him? I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tried. I’ve bought sexy outfits, got my blond hair styled so it doesn’t simply fall to my ass in its old, limp, long, typical fashion. My hairdresser went nuts, chopping it up to my shoulder blades and adding in layers everywhere, so now it has somewhat of an attractive wave to it. But when he got home that night, he looked straight through me. He didn’t even notice.

I’ve talked it to death with Lola, my best friend since college. Has he cheated? Is he having an affair? If he is, or has, then he’s been very good at hiding it. I’ve seen no signs of it, other than his absent demeanor, of course. Just the thought of it makes my stomach lurch over itself. Because despite how bad things are between us, I still love him.

I’m still madly, stupidly, and irrevocably in love with him.

I don’t know how to just switch it off. And I don’t think it works like that.

But, apparently, it works like that for him.

His footsteps travel down the hall as he climbs the stairs then pause in the hallway as he checks on the kids. Something he still does every night, even though he’s happy to ignore them when they’re awake most days.

I roll over and pretend to be asleep before he walks into the room. When he does, he leaves the door wide open—as expected. We haven’t been intimate since earlier this year, but it’s not for lack of trying. It’s killing me. A part of me thinks that maybe if we were, it’d help fix this rift. We could renew this loss of connection if only he’d touch me with more than just a peck on the head each morning before he leaves for work. And that’s if he’s home. A lot of the time, he’ll get up before us and supposedly go to the gym before he heads into the office.

I hear his clothes hit the floor before the bed dips with his weight.

Barely breathing, I wait for him to reach over and hook an arm around my waist to drag me into his strong, warm body. Like he used to.

I open my eyes and stare at the en suite door when it doesn’t happen.

We both lay there, in the dark, not talking, not touching, and not sleeping, just co-existing in the silence that screams louder than any voice ever could.

Then he speaks. “You promised me forever when I slid that ring onto your finger.”

My heart starts pounding dangerously fast in my chest, but I simply retort in a sad voice, “And you promised to love and cherish me always.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes. “We’re not getting a divorce, Dahlia.”

Dahlia. He used to call me Lia, like my family and close friends.

A tear escapes, rolling down my cheek onto the pillow beneath it as I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for sleep to take me away from here.





“What would you have done if he’d said yes? Are you crazy?” Lola’s eyes widen, and I shrug.

“Maybe.” I lean back against my black Range Rover. “I don’t know.”

She stares at me for a moment. “Are you sure it’s not the company? Maybe he is having trouble at work.”

I shake my head. “No. I’d know if it were in trouble. Besides, I’ve asked him that a few times already.”

I’d know if it were because he’s the CEO of Vandellen Logistics. And I know a lot of his close co-workers and their wives. The gossip would run rampant if there were problems.

“Fuck me, Lia,” she blurts, scrubbing a palm over her mouth before quickly glancing around to make sure that none of the stuffy moms nearby heard her. Not that she’d usually care, but Bonnets Bay Preparatory has some first-class bitches who become rabid with any sign of trash on their beloved school grounds.

Lola isn’t trash at all. She’s a high school teacher, and her husband, Trey, has his own carpentry business in the city. But anyone who doesn’t drive a car worth over fifty thousand dollars automatically earns an entry into the ‘not good enough’ category in their little black books of snobbery.

“Where the hell do you go from here?” She lowers her voice. “You can’t keep living like this.”

I heave out a weary sigh, looking down at the pointed toes of my boots. “I have no idea.”

“Oh, shhh. Here comes Fiona,” she whispers.

I look up to see Fiona’s smiling face approaching us. She set her pretty green eyes on us the first day our kids started kindergarten together, and we took her under our wing. She’s beautiful but can also be a little snotty. She’s nice, though—well, to us anyway. The three of us kind of clicked, and we’ve been friends with her ever since.

“Afternoon, ladies,” she says brightly. “I couldn’t help but overhear that Natasha’s son has a girlfriend. Crazy, right?” She laughs.

“Seriously? They start that early these days?” Lola looks concerned, which is fair enough. Her daughter, Sophie, is a stunning girl with blond hair and big, bright blue eyes.

Fiona shrugs. “Apparently.” She turns to me. “Hey, are you still volunteering at that homeless shelter?”

She asks me this all the time, but I nod. “Yeah, I’m heading in for my shift tomorrow.”