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“I’m okay, I think. I’m getting my things from the apartment now. I’ll sort them out and get everything shipped home. The lawyer doesn’t need me here to get the divorce underway, so I’ll come home. Can I take the couch?”
“Your old room is already made up.”
He smiled for the first time since he’d opened his apartment door days earlier. “Thanks, Ma. I’ll let you know my flight details.”
“See you at the airport.” He bade her goodbye as the taxi he’d waved down pulled up beside him. The trip to his apartment went fast, traffic flowing easily at that time of the morning, and he stood at the entrance doors what felt like only a few minutes later.
Will shook off the cold as he hurried inside, only to pause when he reached the threshold of his apartment. He swallowed, wiping his clammy hands on his jeans as he worked up the courage to knock on the door. His mind was playing tricks on him, conjuring up worst-case scenarios. Possibility after possibility flashed in his mind’s eye of Stefan and his new guy tangled together and putting on a show just to spite him. But Will didn’t know whether anything that Stefan did to him now could be as bad as what he’d already witnessed. That first glimpse of Stefan unabashedly taking what he wanted from his lover had broken something inside of Will that he wasn’t sure he’d ever heal from.
Finally screwing up the courage and rapping quickly on the door, he stepped back and waited.
No one answered.
Wary, his mind ratcheting up the games it was playing with his confidence and calm, he let himself in. Relief whooshed through him at the sight that met him. Stefan sat on the couch, wearing fitted leggings, socks, and a fuzzy jumper a few sizes too big for him. Will had to resist the temptation to touch him, just to feel how soft it was. With an iPod in hand and headphones tucked into his ears, he glanced at Will then quickly looked away. Will caught a flash of what he hoped was regret—not because Will wanted him back, but because he’d never thought of Stefan as malicious. But the man who he’d come home to a few days earlier was stone cold and callous.
Stefan didn’t meet his gaze again, and Will tracked his eyes around the room, feeling a pang of guilt for walking out without cleaning the vomit-stained rug. Pictures of Stefan riding his lover popped unbidden into Will’s mind, and the guilt disappeared. He looked over to where the rug sat and noticed it’d been replaced. Much like himself.
“Ah, hey,” Will hesitated, unsure of whether he’d get as cold a reception as he’d already been subjected to. Stefan turned to him, the walls firmly in place. His glare was like ice, cutting him to the quick. Will cleared his throat, wishing he could be anywhere but there and motioned over his shoulder down the hallway. “I’m just gonna grab my things.”
“Whatever,” Stefan responded, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. The man he’d returned home to hadn’t been the one he thought he’d married. Never would he have ever dismissed Will like a piece of garbage. It wasn’t in Will’s nature to fight. He would if he had to, but sadness surrounded him, sucking the life out of their once happy apartment, and Will just needed to get the hell out of there.
He steeled his spine and turned on his heel. He chanted a mantra in his head, biting his tongue.I won’t say anything. I won’t lash out.He wouldn’t give Stefan the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d hurt him. Moving slowly, deliberately, he focussed on his breathing. Concentrated on pulling the two suitcases he had stored in the spare room cupboard—the one he used as his wardrobe—and tossed his clothes in it. He shook his head at the irony of Stefan having already moved him out of their bedroom a year earlier.
“But why can’t they stay in the wardrobe in our bedroom?” he’d asked.
“It’s a closet, not a wardrobe. And it’s too crowded. My clothes are getting all creased. I have to iron them whenever I want to wear them.”
Will hadn’t stated the obvious—if his husband stopped buying them, they wouldn’t have a problem. But shopping made him happy, and Stef sacrificed so much with Will being away as often as he was that if a little shopping made his husband happy, Will was happy too. “You’re never here,” he’d continued, his voice a whine. “It doesn’t matter if your clothes are in the spare room. You won’t even notice.”
Will had sighed and begun taking his clothes out. He knew when to argue and when not to push. If he did, Stefan would have a meltdown, and there’d be shouting and banging—but not the fun kind. Raised voices and slamming of doors would proceed Stefan locking himself in the bathroom sobbing until Will gave in, followed by him handing over his credit card so Stefan could shop until he felt better. Or he’d be given the cold shoulder for days. He loved his husband—even the fiercely passionate side of him that his family thought was more diva than grown man—but Will knew if Stefan didn’t get what he wanted, he’d be the one paying the debt back for months. Receiving the silent treatment for days wasn’t an option. Will only had a weekend left in Seattle before his next assignment at sea began. He refused to waste it fighting over something as petty as where his clothes were kept.
With his clothes from the spare room packed, Will walked into their bedroom and paused at the end of the bed. He ran his fingertips over the cover that Stefan had chosen. He remembered the trip. It was his last day onshore, and he had yet to pack. Stefan had begged him to go out for brunch, which had turned into a day of wandering around the city, choosing trinkets in cool little stores and linen from Nordstrom for their apartment. They’d held hands and laughed together. They’d been in love. At least Will had been. How far they’d fallen.
Will opened his bedside table drawer and was confronted with another man’s things. He closed his eyes, the pain of Stefan’s betrayal a lance in his chest. There was nothing left for him here. Nothing left of him either. The photo that sat on the dresser of their wedding—the two of them in suits standing on the steps of the Vegas chapel, both still half-drunk from the night before—was gone. He knocked his fist on the surface gently and sighed, wondering just how long ago Stefan had moved on.
Will wheeled his suitcases out to the lounge room. There were so many questions he had zipping around in his head. The whys, the whens, and the what happeneds. But it was pointless asking. Nothing would come from knowing.
He paused at the door and turned to Stefan. He looked ridiculous sipping on a glass of bubbles dressed in what could have been workout clothes, but the hard glint in his eyes told Will he was feeling combative. Stefan raised an eyebrow at Will, lifting his chin in defiance. Will realized he didn’t have much to say to this man. This virtual stranger. Although Will questioned how well he’d ever known Stefan if he was capable of this. His heart was broken, but Will had quickly stopped crying for what he’d lost. Instead, the only thing playing in a loop in his mind was that he’d been betrayed by the one person who was supposed to be on his side. Numbness and shock had set in, but the need to escape and get as far away from there as possible was winning. The part of Will that had wanted to rear up and demand that he fight for his man, that he didn’t go down without trying everything to save their marriage, was silenced. The scene he’d witnessed in their bedroom had snuffed out the desire to mount that fight. Instead, looking at him, Will felt nothing. As if the man opposite him was a stranger that he had no emotional connection too. It was sad that things had ended that way, but Will couldn’t help hear the whisper of sweet relief in the back of his brain. He was being gifted a freedom of sorts. It didn’t come from being single—there was no way he was ready to even think about dating or being with someone else—but from stepping over the line he’d drawn because of Stefan’s betrayal and not looking back. The freedom to not watch every word he said for fear of tipping his husband into a mood or opening the mail to discover his next few months’ pay had already been spent. He’d walked on eggshells for much of their marriage, but it only occurred to him once he was outside of it.
He didn’t want any reminders of it either. He would walk away from everything they’d built with his head held high and start over. Will wanted to focus on what was important. He would concentrate on rebuilding his relationship with his family and getting the promotion to cruise ship captain that he’d dreamed of since being a wet-behind-the-ears teenager.
The canvas of the ballet dancer hanging above the TV unit caught Will’s attention. Maybe he did want something of their life together. He lifted his chin and motioned to it, deciding on the spot that he was going to take it. He’d seen the picture in a studio collection. Images of ballet dancers had lined the walls. But that photograph had spoken to him, and he had to have it. It wasn’t a large print compared to many of the others they’d seen that night, but it had captured his attention and held it. The man, dressed in white leggings and ballet slippers, spun around in an industrial-style space holding a pose that no untrained dancer would manage to contort their body into. Pristine against grungy, the picture was a contrast in conflicting beauty. Untouched, unblemished skin against a gritty background. Perfect lean muscle and grace, poise and confidence; his beauty in motion had held Will captivated the first time he’d seen it. Stefan hadn’t thought much of it, and Will knew it would be headed for the garbage chute if he didn’t take it. “I’m keeping my picture too.”
“Fine.” Stefan nodded. “Chad is moving in, and we’re redecorating anyway, so I don’t need any of this.”
Stefan’s words made him pause, the armour he’d built around his heart piercing like a hot knife cutting through butter. “Why, Stef?” Will asked quietly. “I thought we were good together.”
“Good together?” Stefan huffed, his tone caustic. He stood and poked his finger into Will’s chest, his voice rising with every word he spat at Will. “You leave for months at a time, then pop back home when it suits and expect me to rearrange my life for you when you get back. You expect me to be celibate that whole time, then when you finally arrive home, you sleep for days!” He turned his nose up at Will and walked away, moving into the kitchen to refill his glass.
Will nodded. “How many have there been?”
“Enough to know what I want from a man, and it’s no longer you.”
“You were never going to move home with me, were you?” That had been their plan. Will would be working out of Sydney for years to come. Stefan had promised him that they would move to Australia. Will had wanted to live near his family, to rebuild the close bond he’d had with them. Stefan didn’t get along with his own family, so Will thought it was a perfect solution.
“Not a chance.” Stefan drained another glass of bubbles and glared daggers at Will.
Will nodded, took the picture off the wall, and clutched the two suitcases. “My lawyer will be in touch. Sign the paperwork when you get it.”
