The Private Serials Box Set(4)

“So let’s fix it,” I cried.

“We can’t. It’s too late.”

“So, what? You want a divorce? You’re going to leave me?” The image of that hickey flashed into my mind. “You’re having an affair?”

“I am not having an affair.” His voice was cold and stone-like. His affirmation was almost like a gust of chilling wind; it hit me hard and made me shiver. “I am, however, going back to the office. It’s abundantly clear I won’t be able to get any work done here tonight.”

I watched as he stood again and walked right past me, walking back toward the dining room. He retrieved his briefcase and walked toward the front door. When I heard it open and then subsequently slam shut, I felt the loud sounds vibrate through me, and felt a little crack form in the fa?ade I’d been wearing for what seemed like forever. It seemed as if, in one thirty minute window, we’d moved from pretending our marriage was fine to acknowledging its failure, but I was still left wallowing in confusion.

I walked slowly to the dining room, mindlessly clearing the table, just going through the motions while my mind reeled.

What were we to do? Just continue on this path of sharing a house but sharing nothing besides? My hands dipped in and out of the warm, soapy water, washing the dishes, rinsing them, and then setting them on the rack to dry. We had a dishwasher, but washing them by hand calmed me.

I didn’t want a marriage of convenience, but from his words, it seemed like Derrek had thrown in the towel and wanted nothing to do with me. Well, aside from a companion to accompany him to work functions and parties. He wanted to hold up the appearance of our marriage, but drop the charade at the door.

I saw a tear drop into the dishwater. Not realizing I was crying, the tear caught me off guard. Once I saw the first one fall, however, the rest were not far behind.

This was not where I wanted to be, wasn’t how I envisioned my life to be at twenty-nine. When I married Derrek, I was sure we’d be happy forever. Sure, I suspected we’d have difficult times, trying times, but I thought we’d work together to get past them. I never would have imagined that one day Derrek would tell me our marriage was over, that the real part – the loving part – had been lost.

Then there was the hickey he denied.

Of everything that happened, the hickey was the least of my worries. Well, it would have been if he’d owned up to it. We couldn’t work past a problem if he didn’t admit to it, and I would gladly, at this point, look past any transgressions on his part if he’d just agree to be my husband again.

I cried because he didn’t want me and I cried because I still wanted him. I wanted my marriage. I wanted the future I’d signed up for so many years ago, and I didn’t think it was fair that someone else could make those decisions for me. Didn’t I get a say in how our future played out?

My hand slammed down on the counter, suds spraying out around my wet hand.

“Shit,” I cried through a whisper. Perhaps I shouldn’t have ambushed him with this dinner. Perhaps I should have approached him on a different night, some other time when the pressure wasn’t so high. I should have let our anniversary pass by and tried to talk to him when he was more relaxed and not so obviously stressed. All those thoughts just made me cry harder. I never wanted to have to walk on eggshells around my husband. I also cried harder because I could remember a time when I didn’t have to, when I could go to him with any problem I was having or any emotion I was feeling.

Once the dishes were clean and the dining room was put back in order, I ambled up the stairs and readied myself for bed, not expecting to see Derrek for the rest of the evening. And I was right. He never came home that night.





Chapter Three


I woke to the sound of my phone buzzing against the wood of my bedside table. I hadn’t set an alarm and wasn’t expecting to be woken up, so I startled a bit. The buzzing stopped, and before I could reach over to see what had caused it, I must have fallen asleep again because I was awoken by the buzzing a second time. This time, however, the damage was done and I was awake. A groan escaped me as I rolled over to see who was trying to contact me. I pressed the button on the phone to light up the screen and saw two text messages from Samantha.

**Hey, woman. How did the surprise anniversary dinner go?**

**You’re either still asleep because you’re exhausted from all the sex you and your husband had last night, or because you cried yourself to sleep. Either way, we need to talk. Text me back.**

I sighed at her intuitive mind. Couldn’t I have just been asleep because I was sleeping? Maybe I went for a run last night and was exhausted from that. I wasn’t really surprised that she’d clued in to what had really happened, but I was more upset that now I was probably going to have to talk to her about it. Talking about it to someone else made it real. I wasn’t trying to delude myself into thinking I had a perfect marriage, but admitting to my best friend that last night had put some sort of nail in my marriage coffin would be the most real and heartbreaking conversation I might ever have. It occurred to me I would have this real and heartbreaking conversation with my best friend and not my husband, and that, perhaps, was the most depressing and telling thought of all.

I pressed the buttons on my phone to send a message back to her.

**Same time, same place?**

It only took a few seconds for her to respond.