She gazed at me as she slid her lips up my shaft slowly.
“If you were my husband,” she said, her teeth biting into her lower lip. “I’d want to adore you like this every day.”
I closed my eyes as she took me back in her mouth, her fingers lacing with mine as I filled her mouth…
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, like I was trying to erase the memory.
I missed my wife.
4
LILA
Iwas staring at the wall again. As far as walls go, it was pretty. I’d picked the lavender floral pattern for our bedroom because I’d thought it would make it more relaxing. I’d never expected to be staring at it after I’d found out my husband had been banging some woman named Cami.
God, Ihatedher fucking name. Why couldn’t she be called Beryl or Joan? Something that didn’t screamI’m younger than you.
I’d never cared about my age. I was forty-four, but I didn’t feel it, really. Other than the lack of libido and mood swings which my doctor told me was probably perimenopause, I felt like I did in my twenties. Okay, maybe my thirties. Vanessa and I still drank wine until we couldn’t see on occasion, and I took care of myself by working out regularly and drinking loads of water.
But seeing my husband with Cami made me realise that ifthat’swhat he wanted, I was far from it. I didn’t wear makeup or dye my hair. I was lucky that my mom hadn’t gotten grey hair until she was late sixties, so I took after her in that respect. I worked in a local store, stocking shelves and working the checkouts, so I didn't see the point in having my nails done.
I wasn't tanned either, or I didn’t squeal like Cami did when my husband fucked me.
But I never cared about any of that until now.
Now, I wanted to slap on as much make up as I could, wear the shortest dress I could buy, get my nails done and seduce the fuck out of my shit husband.
But I was too proud for that. My father had left my mom for another woman when I was twelve, so I was grateful that I didn’t have kids. There was nothing worse than your daddy leaving you, and that’s what it felt like, despite your mom telling you repeatedly he’d leftherand still lovedyouvery much.
My mom would understand, I knew she would, but I couldn’t bring myself to call her and tell her that Victor was just another cheating scumbag, that I was going to be a divorcee just like she was.
Well, fuck it.
I’d told Vanessa I wanted a divorce, but I guess I needed to tell the jerk I’d married, too.
It had been five days since I kicked him out, but it felt so much longer.
I turned to look for my phone, my heart racing when I saw the screen lighting up.
I knew it was him before I even picked it up—he hadn’t stopped calling or texting. All day. Every day. Was he even at work? I hoped so, because the mortgage still needed paying, and I couldn’t do that by myself.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I’d been dreading this conversation, but really, it had to be done. I didn’t know how long divorces took?—
Fuck,divorce?—
Fuck him. He did this.
I finally answered, hearing his voice cracking. “Baby!”
And that one word undid me, all my resolve stripping away as tears streamed from my eyes, my hand trembling.
I need to be strong.Remember him fucking her.
I forced myself to replay the video until anger overrode my despair, and my heart stopped bleeding for five seconds.
“I want a divorce, Victor.” My voice betrayed me, showing how I was hanging on by a thread. He’d know. He always knew.
“Lila, baby, let’s talk about this?—”
