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Roger was as wonderful and considerate a lover as I’d imagined him to be. We made love several times over the course of the night, each time better than the time before. I felt reckless; I felt wanted; I felt appreciated; I feltseen.
It was only as I was drifting off to sleep that I felt guilt.
It hit me like a sucker punch to the gut, and it was probably only the alcohol in my system that allowed me to get any sleep at all.
I woke up early the next morning, my body all but vibrating with the guilt of what I’d done, my head heavy with a regret worse than any hangover I’d ever experienced. I glanced over at Roger, still sleeping soundly beside me.What have I done?Even if Harrison was being a total ass, even if hewashaving an affair—and I had no real proof that he was—did that justify my jumping into bed with a man I barely knew? How many times had I told my children that two wrongs don’t make a right?
I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. I knew that no amount of soap could wash away the stench of my betrayal.I cheated on my husband. I’m an unfaithful wife. If there is a hell, I will burn in it.My whole body shook.What in God’s name have I done?
Roger was just opening his eyes when I came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, my hair soaking wet. “Hi, beautiful,” he said.
I smiled, then promptly burst into tears.
“Oh, no. No,” he said, jumping out of bed and surrounding me with his arms. “No. Please don’t cry. No, don’t be sad.”
I shook my head, unable to speak.
He led me back to the bed, and sank down beside me. “What’s happening, Jodi? Tell me what’s going on.”
“I just feel so bad,” I managed to spit out between sobs. “You probably won’t believe me, but I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Why wouldn’t I believe you?” he asked earnestly.
“Oh, God,” I wailed. “You’re such a sweet man. And I’m so awful.”
“You aren’t awful. Who says you’re awful?”
“I do! I’m a married woman. I’m supposed to be faithful. I’m not supposed to be waking up in hotel rooms next to men who aren’t my husband.”
“From everything you told me, your husband’s not exactly a paragon of virtue,” he said. “Not to mention, he’s a damn fool.”
“He’s not…” I started, then stopped, trying to remember exactly what I’d told Roger about my situation. Probably more than I should have, I thought. “It still doesn’t justify my being here with you.” I took a deep breath, felt my exhalation shudder into the air between us.
We sat in silence for several seconds.
“You know that this can’t ever happen again.”
“I know,” he said. Then, gently taking my hand, “Are you hungry? Would you like some breakfast?”
“Yes,” I said, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a renewed onslaught of tears.
He smiled. “What would you like? I’ll order room service.”
“Coffee, orange juice, French toast?” I asked, tears streaming down my cheeks.Have I no shame?
“Sounds perfect,” he said, placing the order, then returning to my side, kissing me gently on the forehead.
“We should get dressed,” I said.
He nodded.
We didn’t move.
“I’ll find someone else at the agency to help you look for a condo,” I said after several more moments had passed.
“Is that really necessary?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Okay,” he said. “But if you change your mind…about anything…”
“I won’t.”
“But if you do…” he said. He left the rest of the sentence unfinished.
