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“Damn it, Anna! Stop staring at me like that and tell me what the fuck is going on!” I don’t mean to cuss at her or raise my voice, but I am barely hanging on to my sanity right now.
The woman of my dreams seems to be slowly slipping through my fingers. As of right now it doesn’t seem like there is anything that I can do to hold on to her, to what we used to have, to what I so badly wish we could get back again.
Her lips part like she’s going to say something, but then she closes them. She curls her arms around herself as if it physically hurts her to speak the next words.
“Do you love her?”
I am so confused, that I don’t even know what to say. Her who? Our daughter, without a doubt. But she knows this, and judging by the way she’s acting, that’s not who she’s talking about. I don’t understand what she’s talking about, theconfusion must show on my face because before I can find my voice and ask who she is talking about, she answers my question.
“YOUR MISTRESS! DO YOU LOVE HER?” She yells at me. It’s her turn to slam her palms onto the table.
What? What in the actual fuck is she talking about? When have I ever done anything that would suggest there is someone else? This is the absolute last thing I thought she meant when she said she had something to talk about tonight.
I am livid; how could she think I would ever want anyone but her? Sure, we’ve been going through a rough patch, but that doesn’t mean I would ever or could ever do that to her. Is this the kind of man she thinks I am? If things get tough, I’ll just go and find someone else?
Maybe that’s why I shot back. “Not any more than the piece of shit you’ve been fucking, dear.” I sneer. She gasps; she truly looks offended, or maybe she’s just surprised I caught her. It’s hard to tell when I feel like I want to throw my plate across the room in anger.
“You can’t possibly think I wouldn’t suspect anything. After how distanced you have become,” what I don’t add is how close we used to be; even after we first had kids, we made time for each other. And we were definitely more sexually involved then. It was like every other day, at least; she used to love to tease me. Wearing shorts that had her perfect ass hanging out to the things she would wear under her robe just for me.
One time, she got home from a business trip early to surprise me. I walked into the house after a long day, ready to call her to see if she’d made it to the airport on time, only to find her kneeling by the door with nothing but my, now, favorite tie around her neck. She had been gone for a week. I took her by the hand and pulled her up to kiss her. We barely broke apart to make it as far as the kitchen. The kids were both away at a summer camp, so we weren’t worried about being discovered.
I backed her into the kitchen, against the island, and picked her up to lay her down on the counter. While she was lying there, I remembered that we had just had a family ice cream night and we had some chocolate syrup. I told her not to move as I retrieved it from the fridge. I drizzled it on her breast, making her nipples harden.
Then I brought my mouth down, licked, and sucked it all off. She gasped and moaned my name as I did, switching sides, and I showed the same attention to her other breast. When I was done, I trailed kisses down her belly and swirled my tongue around her navel, causing her to moan with the knowledge of where my tongue would go next. Shaking my head, I cast aside the memory; things are so different now.
Now I don’t feel like it’s worth the effort of trying; not that sex is the only important thing in the relationship, but I miss the intimacy with her. Everything from laying in bed late at night, talking and laughing with each other. To her occasionally dragging me to the nail salon to get pedicures together.
To the spontaneous moments where we would got so caught up in each other, that it didn’t matter where we were, we needed each other, and everything in between. I guess what it came down to was, I missed my wife. Eventually, I stopped trying, right around the time the kids left the house.
“Well, maybe if you didn’t stay up watching games or screwing around on your phone and actually tried, I wouldn’t have distanced myself!” She yells.
“Every time I tried, I got shut down.” I snap back.
“You always had an excuse: ‘I’m too tired.’ or ‘I have an early meeting I have to prepare for.’ or the most common, ‘I have a headache’. Tell me, how exactly am I supposed to try?” I am genuinely curious.
“Those aren’t excuses, Greyson! Maybe if you put in as much effort at home with me as you do with your mistress, we wouldn’t have an issue.” She is livid.
Don’t get me wrong, my wife is undeniably sexy; she has curves and an ass to die for. Where she sees flaws in her cellulite or whatever and stretch marks, I find her irresistible.
Even now, she could ask me to fuck her in the heat of the argument, I wouldn’t say no. I would drop to my knees before her, lift the skirt, and taste her very sweet core, but I know she won’t. Just like I know all the things she hates about her body are all things I love. She has stretch marks from barring two of my children. If a man doesn’t find that attractive, well, then find a new man who does. I have told her this before, but she never believes me.
“The only issue here is that you believe I am cheating, so you decided that if I was, you could too. Isn’t that right, dear?” I spit out.
I stare her down, waiting for her to deny it, or admit it, but I’m more surprised when she doesn’t. I can’t just sit here; I need time to think about where we go from here and where I go from here. I know that if I tell her I’m not cheating, she’ll think I’m lying, especially after I didn’t deny it as soon as she accused me.
So, I stand and head for the garage. I need to do something, anything; I need to be anywhere she isn’t before I say something else stupid. I feel the ever-growing void between us multiply into something I’m not sure we can get through.
As my hand twists the doorknob sharply, I hear her say the one thing I never thought she’d say, the one thing we swore when we were just teenagers would never be an option, the thing we promised to avoid at all costs, it makes ice run through my veins and makes me stop dead in my tracks. Looking back at her, all I see is her retreating form. I am so hurt and so full of disbelief that I don’t follow her.
And yet, at this moment, there is one thing I know for sure, and that’s that I still love my wife because I know I will still do anything to keep her.
Anna
I am so hurt and crushed. How could he possibly think that I am sleeping with anyone? Maybe it’s just because he has that makes him think he can justify it by accusing me of cheating.
At this point, there is no fixing this. He has to have a mistress, he didn’t deny it, if he didn’t he would have told me so. Yet he claimed I was sleeping with someone else. I mean I know we haven’t had sex in god-knows-how long. But I have not given him any reason to think I have gotten it anywhere else.
I understand I have been career-driven for a while. The last five years or so have been great for my career. I’ve gotten a few promotions over the years. I started working for an event planner as an intern.
