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I asked Justine what was wrong, my heart feeling as if it was clawing its way out of my chest. She shook her head, gave me a tiny smile, and said we’d talk later.
It’s been bugging the crap out of me all day. I need to know if I have to start doing damage control. My mind’s been going to all kinds of places all day. If we’ve been caught, what is the worst that can happen? They’ll fire me. I’ve managed to keep my work and personal life mostly separate so Bailey would never have to find out. I can tell her that I’ve resigned. That I’m tired of all the long hours and the toll it’s taking on our relationship. I know she’ll be on board with that. But how to handle Justine? Obviously, if I’m out of a job, that will be the end of us. It will have to be a clean break, and then Bailey and I can have a fresh start. Get back to us.
Justine said she’d been craving fried chicken, so we ordered and ate in silence when it arrived. I poured some wine, which she was reluctant to accept but eventually did.
I have this thought nagging in the back of my head that I’m forgetting something, but I shake it off, focusing on Justine instead. This silence is killing me, and I need to get to the bottom of what’s upsetting her. She’s usually so easygoing, which means that whatever is going on with her must be bad. If it’s family related, I can relax, offer her some comfort, and then brush it off.
“What’s wrong?” I’m bursting at the seams with impatience as I brush a piece of hair from her face.
She looks down, biting her lip, and I stifle my sigh of impatience.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” I trail my hand from her cheek, down her neck, over the slope of her breast, before finally settling it on her leg. Her whole vibe is telling me that fucking will not be happening tonight and that in itself is something new. Not once has she denied me.
“I know,” she says, and fuck me, I can see her eyes glistening with tears.
“You’re killing me here,” I mutter, giving her leg a slight squeeze. “Is it us? Has anyone seen us or said anything to you?”
She shakes her head, and sweet, sweet relief floods me. Okay, that’s good. I can relax and breathe enough to live another day. Anything else I can handle.
Wait, maybe she’s having second thoughts about us and just doesn’t know how to tell me? The feeling that fills me at the thought is confusing. It’s part relief, part annoyance? I’ve been meaning to end this, so why does it matter who does it?
“Fuck Justine, you’ve gotta talk to me. Do you want to end this? I know all this sneaking around is difficult, and I wouldn’t blame you if you got tired of it. I also know you’d never want Phillip to find out.” I throw in the last line as a reminder that she’s also got something to lose if we’re outed.
“No, it’s not that at all,” she says, hurrying to reassure me and entwining her fingers with mine. She laughs lightly. “God, I don’t know why I’m so emotional. Just give me a moment.” She leans to the side, reaching for her wine. It’s when she freezes that I look to see what’s captured her attention that I see it. My wife, standing at the door, a look of profound devastation carved into her face.
*****
BAILEY
I HAVEbeen silently seething since Quinn returned from his conference, the pressure cooker of my emotions threatening to erupt. For months now, my anger has been bubbling and festering, and I have had enough. I can’t do this any longer. Tonight is the night we finally have it all out. I’m done with burying my head in the sand and denying what is so obvious, looking past all the red flags he’s been lobbing at me faster than I can dodge them.
I’m tired of not being a blip on his radar. I'm tired of how he’s stopped touching me and spending time with me. I’ve had enough of the disregard he shows me. Of being his punching bag when he’s in a mood or when I dare voice my unhappiness at how he’s been treating me.
Saying that he was too busy to call was a load of crap. The truth is, if he wanted to, he would have. And how he forgot our anniversary? That’s the cherry on the cake. Our anniversary has always been incredibly special to both of us. The fact that he forgot is such a simple thing in a long lineup of unsimple things, but one that speaks volumes.
It’s one of two things. Either he doesn’t love me anymore, or there’s someone else. Or a combination of both. The thought of any of those things is enough to make me want to curl into a ball, but I can’t stand this limbo anymore.
He will make time for me. He owes me that, at least. I have never been one for ultimatums, but tonight, I’m giving him one. If he can’t be honest with me, I’m insisting on a separation.
So here I am—at his workplace—little staccato cracks following me as I make my way through the lobby, echoing hollowly through the cavernous room.
The realization that he’d forgotten our anniversary was a bitter pill to swallow, and initially, I thought, fuck it, if it means that little to him that he can just forget about it, so can I, but the longer I thought about it, the more I realized that it would be the perfect time to try and get some answers. So, instead of canceling our dinner reservation at The Blue Harlem Lounge—the expensive as hell restaurant where Quinn proposed and where we go every year for our anniversary—I put on the beautiful dress I bought especially for tonight and took my time with my hair and makeup.
It’s early enough that they haven’t locked the front door yet, and this time of night, after the hustle and bustle of a workday has died down, the space feels cold and empty.
“Mrs. Foster. How are you this evening?”
Changing course, I head to reception instead of the elevator, and even though I’m mad, I can’t help but smile at the familiar figure sitting at the desk.
“Hi, Mike. I’m doing well, thanks. How are you?”
“Much better now that I’ve seen your pretty face.” He winks.
“Don’t let Mrs. Mike hear you say that. I would hate for you to have to sleep on the couch for the next week.”
He waves my words away. “She won’t care because she knows that even after thirty years of marriage, I still think she has the prettiest face.”
“You’re a good man, Mike. Your wife is lucky.”
