Page 29 of I’m Already Gone

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “We can still fight for this. We have to. Don’t let one horrible night erase everything we have, everything we are, and everything we could still have.”

I reared back in disgust. “What we could still have? Do you honestly think I want to have another baby with you after you let another woman touch you, kiss you? Are you serious right now?” I spat at him.

“Then let me spend the rest of my life trying to make it right!” he snapped back. “Give me the chance to earn your forgiveness, Lily. Your trust. Please.”

He took a step forward, his hands out in a pleading gesture, palms up. “I’ll move out. I’ll give you all the space you need, whatever you want, but please, Lily,” he cried, his voice breaking completely. “Please don’t give up on us. We can make this work.”

He sounded sincere—sincere enough that part of me wanted to believe him. But wanting to believe him and being able to trust him were two very different things. And I didn’t know if I could do either.

“How can you be so sure?” I asked.

“Because it’s us. It’s always been us. Lily and Ethan. It’s me and you, Sunshine. I love you so much. And I am so, so sorry.” He dropped to his knees, a broken heap on the floor, and cried, his face buried in his hands.

“God, I am so, so sorry I fucked up. I didn’t mean it. She meant nothing to me. Nothing!”

As I watched my husband, the man I’d built a life with, fall apart before me, my heart ached for him. It was a twisted, cruel irony, given that he was the one who had betrayed me. I had given him plenty of chances over the past few months to address the distance between us, but he hadn’t done the work. He’d dismissed our children and me, retreating into himself, claiming he couldn’t handle the pressure at work and being the husband and father he used to be. But he was able to be free with her, wasn’t he? Free to give that woman the attention, the passion, everything that I had craved every night.

I was struggling even to consider forgiveness; the very idea of working to make it right felt like an impossible task. What if he repeated this behavior? Like Ebony said, for a marriage to move toward forgiveness, it required both partners to be willing to do the hard work of rebuilding. But was I willing to rebuild on rubble?

“I believe you, Ethan,” I said, my lips trembling.

His shoulders relaxed, his sobs subsiding into ragged gasps. He looked up, a glimmer of desperate hope in his bloodshot eyes.

“But I can’t stay.”

Lily

Present | Four years later

“Mom! Where’s my pink bathing suit?” Maddy cries out from somewhere in the house.

I stand in front of the bathroom sink, staring at a ghost in the mirror. Not only have I lost weight without even trying, but my complexion is pale, and the swelling around my eyes makes it seem like I’ve been crying for days. Getting through the day has been a struggle, like I could face-plant onto the floor at any second. This is the wake-up call I needed to make an appointment with the doctor.

“Mom!”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” I reply weakly. After splashing cold water on my face, I walk into the hallway in search of my daughter.

“Mom, didn’t you hear me?” Maddy says from the doorway of her bedroom.

“Yeah, I did. I think the whole neighborhood could hear you,” I tease. “It’s in the laundry room, hanging up to dry.”

Maddy beams. “Thanks, Mom!” She kisses my cheek before running down the stairs to the laundry room.

I enter Ollie’s room and notice he isn’t in his bed. I head downstairs to find my seventeen-year-old son, Jake, serving oatmeal to his three-year-old little brother at the kitchen table.

“Good morning,” I say with a smile as I walk over to my boys and place a kiss on top of their heads.

“Hey, Mom,” Jake says. “How are you feeling?”

I shuffle over to the coffee pot, ready to fill my favorite mug. “I’m fine. No need to worry,” I reply.

“I will always worry,” he says softly, and my heart warms at his concern.

“Why don’t you get ready to head to your father’s?” I suggest while the aroma of brewing coffee wafts through the air.

“Yay, fun,” he says sarcastically.

“Jake,” I admonish.