“I just wanted to be clear that this is an option for bothof us.”
“You want options?” I held up my index finger. “Counseling.” My middle finger popped up next. “Scheduling time together for sex.”
I was about to wiggle my ring finger in his face with another suggestion, but he threw the tube of cream into the sink. His glare was enough for me to plaster my spine to the wall.
“I’m not booking an appointment to fuck my wife!” he snapped.
“It wouldn’t be like that. It’s about prioritizing time together. We need to put as much effort into our relationship as we do with everything else going on in our lives.”
“No.”
“Nothing will change unless we trysomething.”
“We have something to try.”
“An open marriage isnotan option!”
“We can set rules.”
I snorted a laugh. “Here’s rule number one: no.”
“Erin, for once, can you at least try not to act so fucking crazy? You’re not even bothering to listen to my side.”
“Your side of this argument is cheating on me!”
“It’snotcheating.”
“Why? Because you’ve evolved beyond the outdated concept of marriage? Because there arerules? I don’t want rules. I don’t want to know anything! Nothing at all!”
“Keep your damn voice down.”
“No! I won’t! Listen to me for once! If you want an open marriage, the only thing I want is never to know a single detail about what happens when you’re with someone else. I want to erase the fact that you even mentioned this horrible fucking idea from my head! I hate it!”
“Erin—”
“Fuck you!”
I slammed the bathroom door behind me. Unsteady, I raced on wobbling legs through the bedroom, my shoulder smacking into the wall, my knees shaking, until I hurled myself into the safety of the walk-in closet. I’d lost my temper. I’d shouted. Inevershouted.
Anger didn’t feel natural surging through me. It was hot and uncomfortable, and I couldn’t stop my hands from yanking atmy dress, tugging at the zipper, and tossing the delicate satin to the floor to get it away from me. Next off was the lace underwear that had no business being on my body. Stripped naked, it only took a shove for the lingerie to disappear under a pile of sweatpants, never to see the light of day again.
I crumpled to the carpet in a broken heap.
Now what?
My husband didn’t want me. If I dug down to the deep, dark truth, I knew Jeremy hadn’t chosen to marry me because of my sharp intellect or my impressive career. I was pretty. I gave—if I do say so myself—incredible blow jobs and took pleasure in making his life easier in small ways. I’d taught myself to be a decent cook. I kept a beautiful home. What else did I offer? Not much. Word puzzles hardly put me on his level.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was bored with me. Plenty of pretty faces with bodies unscarred by motherhood would be interested in my husband. If he had an affair with another doctor, they could dissect the latest boring article they’d read in some medical journal over dinner before screwing for hours while I played house and didn’t ask questions like a good little wife.
My marriage was about to collapse.
And there was no one I could talk to about it.
My best friend was gone. The mums at Matilda’s playgroup were friendly enough, but the wives of doctors circling in the same waters as Jeremy could never be confidantes for my marriage troubles. Callan was the only person left in my corner.
My phone shook in my hand as I tapped a word.Lonely.I scrambled it and hit send before I could change my mind. Too many breaths passed before dots flashed on the screen.
Callan
