Cheat wife, What he overhears leads him to act quickly
All the way home, Nick couldn’t stop grinning. He hadn’t expected to hear about the promotion for another couple of weeks; but just that morning Rozand had come striding into his office and told him the good news.
“The boys upstairs really liked the way you handled that Japanese situation, Nick—and none of us sees any point in waiting around. So let me be the first one to shake the hand of our new Vice-President for Far East Sales!”
Nick had gulped, thanked Rozand, and sat with him for nearly an hour as they discussed the perks and the responsibilities of the new position. After that, Nick was simply too euphoric to stay in his office a moment longer. He called Suzanne in and gave her the news.
“Suzanne, I hope you won’t mind changing jobs.” He watched with amusement as her face fell.
“Nick, are you…replacing me?” She looked genuinely wounded.
“Not at all, Suzanne, you know I couldn’t get a damn thing done without you! It’s just that you’ll have to accustom yourself to working for the Vice-President for Far East Sales—think you can handle that?”
Suzanne looked blank, then squealed with joy and gave Nick a big hug. She was a competent, rather stout middle-aged woman, a good 15 years older than Nick. But she’d worked for him practically since his first days at Thomaston Chemical and they were genuinely fond of one another. She and her husband had advised Nick and Emily on the best school districts when they were planning to buy a house; Nick had helped Suzanne’s oldest son find an internship at Thomaston after his freshman year of college.
Suzanne babbled away happily, asking Nick a million questions about the new job. When he finally could get a word in edgewise he said, “I’m going to ask you to hold the fort for today, okay? I’ve just gotta get home and give Emily the news.”
They hugged again, and Nick headed for the parking lot. Champagne, he thought. Champagne and an afternoon in bed! It was July, so Emily’s summer vacation from teaching was in full swing. And both Charlie and Ben were at day camp until nearly 5:30, so there’d be plenty of time.
Nick banged the steering wheel rhythmically, singing along with the Beach Boys in a loud, not terribly pleasant baritone. No need to stop for champagne—he knew there was a bottle in the fridge unopened since their 11th anniversary about two months earlier.
He could hardly wait to burst in with his news, grab Emily and carry her upstairs to the bedroom.
But just as Nick swung the car onto Thornton Drive, he could see Emily’s VW headed down the street in the opposite direction—too far away for him to catch up to her without speeding dangerously down the quiet residential street.
Shit! He grabbed his phone and called her cell, but it seemed to be turned off.
Sighing to himself, Nick parked in the garage and headed inside. Maybe she’d just gone to do the grocery shopping or run some errands; perhaps they’d still have a couple of hours later in the afternoon.
He ran upstairs and got out of his business clothes, coming back downstairs in shorts and a T-shirt. Making himself a quick sandwich and grabbing a beer, he wandered out towards the backyard patio. But as he passed the study he noticed that Emily had left the computer on. Out of pure random curiosity he went over to see what she’d been doing.
Her email was open, but it wasn’t her school account. Instead it was a Hotmail account he knew nothing about, and her user name was Jane309, using her middle name and her birthday. Why did she have a second email account?
He glanced at the Sent folder, seeing only two names: her sister April out in California and an unfamiliar one: [email protected]. There were about eight messages to that address, including her most recently sent one. Nick clicked it open:
“J:
“ohmygod your message made my nipples stand up! I can’t risk Sunday—no telling what Nick might be doing. Let’s meet there Monday at 11. I can’t wait!
“xxoo E”
Nick sat back in shock, staring at the screen. What the fuck?
**********************
His lunch forgotten, Nick grimly settled down to dig through Emily’s email and do some digging on the Web. It took an hour before he had the full picture.
Jason Pritzker was an educational consultant who had spent two weeks at Emily’s school in early May, leading professional development workshops with the teachers. The picture on his web page showed a good-looking guy who appeared to be in his late thirties, a couple of years older than Nick and Emily. He was married with several kids and lived over in Jefferson Meadows, past the airport to the east of Columbus, about 25 miles from Nick and Emily’s house in Grove City.
From what Nick could tell, Pritzker had set his sights on Emily during the workshops and pursued her since. Their exchanged messages had begun cautiously, but then become increasingly open and passionate. Pritzker wrote two weeks earlier that “kissing you was the most erotic experience of my entire life—I carry around on my lips the indelible memory of you.”
They’d met alone at least three times—and it was clear that while Pritzker hadn’t fucked her yet, he was getting close. His most recent message to Emily had read
“My beautiful E:
“I have never seen, or touched, such gorgeous breasts in my life. You are a goddess!
“We need more time—I ache, I burn to BE with you, completely, at last. Can you get away Sunday, to the usual place?
“Your J”
The only person that Emily had apparently confided in about her affair, not surprisingly, was her big sister April. Also not surprisingly, April was horrified and kept trying to talk her out of it. A week earlier she’d written
“Are you out of your mind? Remember what happened to my friend Monica? How her husband found out and threw her out of the house? Did you know she’s living in a tiny apartment and only gets to see her kids twice a week? Is fucking some handsome stranger a few times going to be worth it if Nick finds out?”
There were three or four other messages like that from April, all along the same lines. In one she wrote
“Nick LOVES you, Em—and he makes a good living and is a fantastic father to Charlie and Ben. You told me yourself that you couldn’t imagine being married to a better man, and that you love him now even more than you did when you guys got married. So WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”
It seemed that Emily didn’t have very good answers to that question—though Nick was hardly an unbiased judge. In one of her first messages to April about Pritzker she wrote that
“I’m hardly going to DO anything with the guy—It’s just flirting, and it’s harmless. And I’ve gotta admit, fun!
“God, April, married life can be so repetitive! Teach my students, cook the meals, wash the dishes, do the laundry, pick up the boys, do the shopping, kiss Nick, watch some TV, fall asleep, and then get up and do it all over again.
“When I’m with Jason there’s that spark, you know? He looks into my eyes, holds my hands, tells me how beautiful I am—and I feel like a girl again! I’m certainly not going to break up my marriage over this; it’s just a little bit of excitement.”
And more recently she wrote
“Just chill a little, okay? It’s just a fling, it probably won’t even last a month! And I’m certainly not going to let Nick find out—I’m being super careful.
“But I can’t even tell you what a turn-on it was when he—well, when we petted a little. I was just dripping! Sex with him is going to be amazing!
“And then it’ll be done and Nick will have me back, happier than ever. And probably hornier, too—he’s gonna love it.”
**********************
Nick knew he had to get out of there. He didn’t want to even SEE Emily; he needed to deal with the shock and the pain. And the anger.
He left the computer exactly as he had found it. He wolfed down his sandwich and put everything away, leaving the kitchen the way it had looked before. He ran upstairs, changed back into his business clothes, and left the house.
An idea was already brewing, but Nick knew he needed some time to think it through. He drove straight to the gym and swam laps for an hour. By the time he was showering and getting dressed, he’d pretty much worked out what he was going to do.
Nick was a direct, straightforward, goal-oriented person. As a 14-year old he’d decided he wanted more money, and he worked to put together the largest paper route he could handle. In college he’d earned a business degree in only three years because he was eager to get out into the world and make a career.
And when he met Emily at a friend’s birthday party, two years after graduation, he knew after their first date that he wanted to marry her. He wooed her ardently, energetically, and romantically. He found out that she loved the ballet and got tickets. When he met her mother he asked her about Emily’s favorite flowers, and bought them for her.
He did, in short, what he always did: he went after what he wanted without dithering. After eight months they were practically living together; and when Nick proposed, at Clemente’s after a long romantic dinner, she cried and said, “Yes Nick, yes!” threw her arms around him, and marveled at the ring he slid onto her finger, as the people all around them smiled.
Was their marriage perfect? Certainly not—but Nick would have said it was great. Emily was generous and loving. She had a great sense of humor, she was terrific with their boys, and Nick knew that she loved him. Their sex life had gotten a bit routine, above all because two careers and taking care of an eight year-old and a six year-old added up to a lot of work, but it was still pretty satisfying.
Nick had had absolutely no idea that Emily was feeling restless or frustrated, let alone that she might be slipping into an affair. And it pissed him off beyond measure that she was doing it so cold-bloodedly. This was no drunken one-time mistake, something he might have been able to understand. No, some shithead was wooing her, leading her on, and she was reveling in it, thinking that some little “fling” was perfectly acceptable because her life was getting a bit stale.
Nick found himself clenching his teeth, thinking about all this. She wanted a change? He’d give her a fucking change—though it wouldn’t be the one she wanted!
**********************
When he stepped in the door around 6:30, same as usual, Nick had his plans pretty well-worked out. He’d spent two hours in the library with his laptop, exchanging messages with Brian Wenders, his friend who worked in IT. Brian had sent him the file he needed, along with detailed instructions on how to use it.
Nick was so fucking furious at Emily that he figured there was no way she’d fail to notice that something was up. Fortunately for his plan, it didn’t matter. In fact, that was part of the plan: for Emily to get the uneasy feeling that something was bothering Nick, something he wasn’t ready to talk about.
So when he found her in the kitchen and gave her a kiss, he let his eyes avoid hers, he pulled away from her hug a little faster than usual, he went off to say hello to the boys a little more abruptly. At dinner he let himself seem a bit distant, troubled.
Emily noticed all this, and he could see it confused her. When the boys were in bed and they were watching TV in the bedroom she asked him what was wrong.
“Is it something at work, honey? You seem so distracted tonight.” She was concerned, but not frightened, he could see that. She didn’t suspect yet that it had to do with her.
He sighed heavily. “I’ve … just got some stuff on my mind, that’s all. Some decisions to make.”
“About work? Is it that promotion thing, still up in the air?”
He looked at her seriously, holding the silence a moment too long. “No, it’s… nothing like that, nothing with work.”
Emily slid over to take his hands. “Then what, baby? Don’t let it twist you up—tell me what’s going on.” She was all love and support, quite sincere, and it infuriated him.
He pulled his hands away and said, “I’m not ready to talk about it, Em. Maybe… maybe in a few days. I’ve got to do some thinking first.”
Emily stared at him. This was so uncharacteristic of her husband that it troubled her; but he could see that she still wasn’t frightened. It hadn’t occurred to her that he knew about her and that asshole Pritzker.
“Okay Nick,” she said finally. “Just don’t shut me out, okay? I love you—let me help.”
He grunted noncommittally and turned back to the TV, feeling her gaze on him.
At about 10:30 Emily went down the hall to check on the boys, and when she returned she went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When she emerged Nick knew what she had in mind. She was wearing a light blue nightie, Nick’s favorite, and she’d brushed out her hair and left it down around her shoulders. She looked fantastic.
“Baby,” she said, in a girlish voice that he usually found almost unbearably sexy, “maybe I can help you … forget your problems for a few minutes.” She crept onto the bed and started sliding her hands up and down his body, stroking his legs and chest through his clothes.
Nick had thought about this—and he’d decided that making love to her, but badly, would shake her up even more than just refusing sex. So he played along, kissed Emily back and let her strip his clothes off, joined her in their typical foreplay, but made sure to show less than his usual enthusiasm.
When she was more than ready for the actual fucking and pulled him up between her legs, Nick hesitated. He let Emily guide his cock into her, but once there he began to hump her listlessly, without energy. He made himself think about her with that bastard Pritzker, imagining them together: him with his hands on Emily’s beautiful breasts, her sucking his dick, him lying between her legs with his hairy ass going up and down.
That did it! As Nick anticipated, his erection softened perceptibly. Concentrating on the mental images of her betrayal, he continued to thrust into her, but with diminishing success. He let himself slow down, like a wind-up toy running out of energy; then he withdrew his half-hard cock and rolled to one side.
Emily looked at him in shock and dismay. “Baby! What’s wrong? Are you …” She didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
Making himself look past her, towards the far wall, Nick mumbled, “Sorry, Em, I just … I guess I have a lot on my mind. I, uh … sorry.”
He got up and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, grinning fiercely to himself. When he returned, he avoided her eyes as he turned off the light and got into bed on his side, rolling to put his back to her. Emily spooned up close behind him, stroking his back and murmuring to him.
“It’s okay baby, we’ll try again tomorrow.” Nick grimaced to himself. Wife, you have no idea what’s coming your way!
**********************
All weekend Nick played the distracted, worried husband, and Emily became more and more concerned. He tried not to overdo it—but he sighed, looked away from her a lot, and once or twice shrank away from her attempts to embrace him. He didn’t breathe a word about her dalliance with Pritzker, and he couldn’t tell whether it had occurred to her that he might have discovered it. But he could see that she was seriously worried.
When it was time for Charlie’s tee-ball game, Nick begged off. “You take the boys, Em—I’m going to uh, do a little work here. I’ve got some stuff to think about.”
She looked stricken. The two of them hadn’t missed any of Charlie’s Saturday games, and usually Nick could hardly wait to get there. But she just smiled and said, “okay, baby,” and came over to rub his shoulders for a minute.
As soon as they were out of the house Nick retrieved his laptop and went into the study. He downloaded the keylogger program that Brian had sent him onto a flash drive, inserted it into Emily’s computer and installed it. Within ten minutes he had it working perfectly: at Nick’s command it would reproduce all activity from Emily’s computer onto Nick’s laptop.
A little searching revealed that her Hotmail account was password-protected; no surprise there. The password was “CharlieBen.” Nick saw that Emily had sent no new messages since the day before. “Good,” he said to himself, and he went off to pack a suitcase, which he then hid behind the sofa in the living room.
On Saturday night Nick refused sex entirely, mumbling vague excuses to Emily about being “tired;” and all day Sunday he largely ignored her, spending the entire day playing with the boys, doing all their favorite things.
By Sunday night Emily seemed really frightened, but Nick fended off all her attempts to talk about it. He went to bed early and again turned his back to her, stiffening noticeably when she spooned up against him.
**********************
Monday was the day Nick intended to drop the hammer. That morning at breakfast with the kids he adopted the role of a troubled guy trying to act normal—forcing smiles, giving his wife a big kiss while looking over her shoulder, seeming a little distracted.
When he left at 8:30 he drove most of the way to work, then stopped and parked in the lot of a KFC. Pulling out his laptop, he logged into Emily’s Hotmail account. Had he shaken her up enough to change her plans?
Sure enough there were two new messages. The first one had been sent by Emily on Sunday afternoon while he was playing with the boys in the back yard. It said
“Hey April:
“Something’s up with Nick—he’s distracted and troubled and won’t talk to me about it. I don’t think it’s work; it’s like he’s guilty about something, almost afraid of me. Can I call you tomorrow to talk?
“Love E”
And the second one to that dickhead Pritzker was even shorter, and quite satisfying. Emily had written it that morning at 8:38, five minutes after Nick had left the house.
“Dear Jason:
I’m sorry, I can’t meet you today, or ever again. I let my attraction to you get out of control, but I need to stop.
Please don’t contact me any more.
I’m sorry—
Emily”
Nick sat back and reflected. He’d gotten part of what he wanted, that was clear: Emily was worried enough about her marriage to see what a bad idea her whoring around with Jason Pritzker was. Whatever she imagined was bothering her husband, seeing him upset and distant had pulled her priorities back into a better balance.
But was that enough? Fuck no!
The answer was “fuck no!” for two very good reasons, one rational and the other less so. Nick realized that his unexplained behavior had put a major scare into Emily, and apparently brought her flirtation with that asshole to a stop. But did it mean she’d never stray again? He didn’t see why. What would prevent this from happening again, a year or five years from now, when she was reassured that everything was okay in her marriage? Couldn’t she succumb to her “lack of excitement” just as easily then? To say the least, Nick didn’t have any faith that it would never happen.
The second reason was simple enough: Nick was furious! He was hurt and he was angry. He’d given Emily everything: his heart, his devotion, his hard work, two fantastic boys they both adored. Did she think that HIS life was constant excitement? And yet HE wasn’t fucking around secretly with some bimbo, the way she’d been doing with that dickhead!
No, that email to Jason was good news, but not nearly enough to stop from going ahead with what he’d planned.
**********************
At 10:15 Nick pulled his car back into the driveway. He’d already let the office know he’d be out for the morning. His plan had been to surprise Emily as she was dressing to go off to meet Pritzker, but she’d canceled that meeting. Instead he found her on the phone, probably to her sister.
She turned to him in surprise. “Hi, Nick—uh, give me a sec.
“April, Nick’s come back home; how about if I call you later? Ok, bye.”
She hung up and came over to Nick. “Is everything okay, honey? I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”
Nick gave her a serious, troubled look. “Em, just come sit in the living room with me, okay? I need to talk to you.”
She sat on the couch and watched him pace, acting uncertain. He saw her worried look. Finally he sat in a chair across from her.
“Emily, I … I was gonna, um, talk to you about this tonight. But I thought about it, driving to work, and I—
“Well, I just realized there was no reason to wait. No good time to say it. I’m moving out—I think I’m going to be getting a divorce.”
He watched her. Nick had never seen a person’s mouth hang open like that, as though her jaw muscles didn’t work. She stared at him, swallowed hard.
“Nick, I—Why?! We love each other, we have a great marriage—why?” She started to cry. “Why would you do this, walk out on me, on Charlie and Ben?”
He got up and paced the room, delivering the words he’d been thinking about ever since Friday.
“There’s just no spark anymore, Em. Married life is so damn repetitive! I go to work, I come home, I play with the boys and get them to bed, you and I watch TV, we kiss each other good night and go to sleep. Then the next day we do the same thing.
“I need … a little excitement. Something new, something that makes me tingle, gets my blood racing.”
He stopped and looked over at Emily. She had gone utterly pale—he wondered how obvious it was that he was throwing her own words to her sister right back in her face.
“I’ve met someone who—”
“No!” she shouted, looking desperate. She jumped up. “No, please, Nick, please tell me you’re not—” She broke down, sobbing.
“I’m not having an affair, Emily. I wouldn’t do that to you! I haven’t even kissed her, even touched her yet. And I won’t, not while you and I—”
He stopped, watch her cry, her whole body shaking. Then he spoke his final sentences.
“But I want that spark—I want someone who will want me, make me feel attractive. Make me feel like a man again, instead of a drudge who’s getting old before his time.
“Listen—I’ll be away on a business trip until Friday. I’ve got a motel room reserved for when I get back. I’ll call you and we can find a time to talk, figure out how we’re going to settle things. If you want to speak to a lawyer that would probably be a good idea.”
She gazed at him in horror as he pulled out the suitcase from behind the couch.
“No, Nick, please—honey, can’t we—”
“I’m so sorry, Emily.” He turned and headed out the door, listening to her sobs of despair behind him. As angry and hurt as he was, he still felt for her. She was in agony, and the part of him that thought “serves her right, the bitch!” battled with the part that wanted to come back into the house and hold her in his arms, kiss away her tears and tell her everything would be all right.
**********************
“I fucking enjoyed that!” he thought to himself, with a kind of grim satisfaction. Nick sat at his desk staring out the window. He’d gone straight to work—the “business trip” he’d told Emily about was pure bullshit. He just wanted her to have a few days to feel miserable.
He asked Suzanne to come in and explained the situation to her briefly.
“Emily and I are having a … well, a little tension at home. So I’m staying away for a couple of days, and she thinks I’m on a business trip until Thursday night—in case she happens to call, okay?”
Suzanne looked troubled. “I’m so sorry, Nick. Anything I can do?”
He shook his head. “Thanks, no, Suzanne—I hope we’re going to get through it.”
She smiled a little and said, “been there, done that. Ralph and I once split up for almost a month, way back before we had the kids. It was pretty grim at the time—now we look back and joke with each other about it.”
They chatted a moment more before Suzanne went back out of the office, and Nick realized he felt a little better. God knows I’m not the only guy who ever had marriage trouble, he thought to himself.
The three days passed quickly, to Nick’s surprise. He’d booked a nice room at the Hyatt on Capitol Square, so he could walk to and from his office. He worked late every day, getting back to his room around 9 pm for a quick room-service dinner, and he got a lot accomplished, sketching out his short-term and long-range plans for his new department. He made phone calls and emailed his contacts in Tokyo, he consulted with the other Far East personnel at Thomaston, and in general he got his new job off to a good solid start.
He checked his cell phone a couple of times a day, always finding one or more messages from Emily, and he deleted them without even bothering to listen. He did the same with her emails, after glancing through them to make sure there weren’t any problems with his sons.
Nick was lonely, of course. He missed Emily, as angry as he was, and he missed the boys like crazy. He even considered parking down the street from his house to get a glimpse of them, then decided he could wait until Friday. But the “business trip” gave him a taste of what a divorce might actually mean, and he didn’t like it one bit.
Of course, that wasn’t the plan. The plan was to scare Emily shitless, really put the fear of God in her, and see if that was sufficient to get her head back on straight and put their marriage back together. If not … if not, he’d deal with that when he had to.
**********************
With a degree of self-restraint that made him proud, Nick waited all the way until Thursday afternoon to check Emily’s secret email account. He wanted to see what she’d been up to, but he also didn’t want to torment himself constantly.
When he looked, he found nothing to or from April—obviously she and Emily had been talking on the phone—but six messages since Monday morning from that asshole Pritzker. Why had she changed her mind? What had happened to the magic they’d been sharing? What had he done wrong, why was she mad at him?
Clearly the bastard had known how close he was to Emily’s pussy and it was just killing him to be denied now. Nick smiled to himself.
Emily had ignored the first four messages. In response to the fifth one, sent on Wednesday, she simply wrote back:
“Jason:
Let it go. I’m not going to see you again. Stop contacting me. Emily”
Jason had written her once more but half-heartedly, along the lines of “okay, but keep me in mind.” He knew he’d lost, at least for now.
“And,” Nick thought, “I’ve won—at least for now. But for how long?” That was the question—what was to prevent this from happening again?
**********************
On Friday around 11 a.m. Nick called Emily from his cell. He tried to strike a tone that was businesslike without being too brusque.
“Hi Emily, it’s me. How are the boys?”
“Nick, my God!” He heard her starting to sniffle. “How are you? I’ve missed you so much! And the boys, they …” She started to cry.
“I’m getting on the plane in a few minutes, okay? I’ll be home for dinner tonight. I was wondering if your parents could maybe take the boys on Saturday, keep them overnight for a visit, and you and I could have some time to talk.”
He could hear her pulling herself together. “Uh, I’m sure they’d love that. I’ll call them today and set it up.
“Honey, what would you like for dinner tonight? I’d like to make us something really special.”
Nick grinned. “Oh, I don’t care, Em—don’t go to any trouble. Make something that Ben and Charlie like—hot dogs, whatever.”
“Okay, honey.” She was obviously disappointed. What was she expecting, that he’d fall right back into her arms? Nick shook his head.
“Gotta go—see you tonight. Bye!” He hung up, not waiting for the “I love you” that was sure to follow.
**********************
Nick’s return was fantastic. The boys were all over him, wild with excitement, and he let them wrestle him and clutch at him and tell him all their stories of the past few days. They were thrilled with the Columbus Clippers hats he’d bought them, and ran and got their baseball gloves so they could have a catch in the back yard.
Emily watched all this with obvious sadness. He’d let her hug him when he arrived, but pulled away far sooner than she wanted, and her eyes followed him despairingly as he threw himself back into the lives of their sons. Maybe she’d hoped that his shocking announcement had only been a mirage, that things would go back to normal, but it clearly wasn’t happening.
Nick let Ben and Charlie stay up ridiculously late—almost until 11. Partly it was to prolong Emily’s obvious misery, but mostly he’d just missed them. It wasn’t until they could hardly keep their eyes open that he agreed with Emily that it was time to get them into bed.
And once they’d had the last story and the last glass of water, he wasted no time in getting ready for bed himself. Before Emily could attempt either a seduction or a conversation, Nick already had his head on the pillow and the light out.
She still tried, though. “Honey? Could we talk for a few minutes?”
Nick smiled to himself in the dark. “Tomorrow, okay Em? This was an exhausting trip, and the boys wore me out tonight. Are your folks taking them tomorrow?”
“Yes—I said I’d drive them over around 11.”
“Okay then. Sleep well.” He offered her no kiss, no hug. Now that he was home again, the anger that had died down a bit during his busy week at work was roaring through him. It took him a long time to fall asleep, and as he lay there he was aware of Emily tossing and turning as well.
**********************
Saturday breakfast was subdued, though you couldn’t have told it by Charlie and Ben, who were jumping around with extra energy. Dad was back, and they were going to Gramma and Grampa’s—for an overnight visit! “Can we take our baseball gloves? And our new hats? Will Grampa play baseball with us?” Etc., etc.
Nick quietly enjoyed Emily’s mournful looks, and when she was ready to drive off with the boys he just said, “we’ll talk when you get back.”
But the house was empty when Emily returned, and she had a miserable hour of sitting at the kitchen table, looking out at the driveway and imagining the worst, before Nick returned. He walked in with an armload of U-Haul boxes and she burst into tears.
Nick handed her a napkin. “C’mon, Em, it’s all right. Let’s just talk this through like two adults.”
But he had to wait nearly five minutes until her sobbing subsided, and another five while she washed her face and repaired her make-up. When she came back she looked better—still devastated, but in Nick’s eyes oddly beautiful. He really was crazy about her, the stupid bitch, he thought.
She got them cups of coffee and sat back down at the table. “Can I talk first, Nick?”
He nodded.
She leaned forward and looked at him imploringly. “I don’t want a divorce, I don’t want a separation. I want you, and I want our marriage back.
“I love you and I know you love me, Nick. And you adore the boys. We should be together. And I’ll do anything I can to make our marriage better, anything. Just tell me where to start.”
He gazed at her, keeping his face neutral. “The excitement’s gone, Em. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too. All the routine, the dishes and the boys and the bills?
“Can you tell me honestly that you haven’t noticed? That you haven’t been tempted to find something else, something a little more exciting, something or someone that would put a little spark back in your life?”
The moment of truth. He wondered if she’d burst into tears again, or run out of the room, or even look straight into his face and lie to him.
Instead she said, “yes, I’ve felt it, Nick. And I’ve been an absolute idiot, and I’m afraid when you hear about it you’ll just walk out the door and I’ll never see you again.”
She was trembling, and squeezing the fingers of her left hand with her right so hard he was afraid she’d break them. But she didn’t stop looking at him.
With a straight face he said, “what are you talking about?”
Stiffly she got up, went to the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulled out three pieces of paper.
“I just couldn’t bear telling you about this, so I wrote it all down. I’ll go into the bedroom and give you all the time you need. But Nick, will you promise me, please—if only for all the years we’ve been together—
“Will you promise me that you’ll come talk to me about this, before you decide what you’re going to do?”
He looked into her frightened, tear-stained face. “Okay,” he said. He took the papers and went into the living room to read them, hearing her crying behind him as she went down the hall towards their bedroom.
**********************
There was little in her letter that he didn’t already know, or had pretty much guessed. She’d met Pritzker at the seminar, and he’d singled her out and flirted with her discreetly. Then he’d gotten her email address and invited her out for what would appear to be an innocent business lunch.
Emily had been flattered, and he’d smoothly worked on her over a period of weeks. At some early point he’d suggested she set up a private email account “just so no one will misunderstand” their relationship.
She appeared to be telling the whole truth, as far as Nick could tell. There had been four occasions when she and Pritzker went beyond acceptable behavior for a man and a woman married to other people. The first of those had been a long, sloppy kiss, in the parking lot behind a luncheonette where they’d had coffee together.
After that, three make-out sessions in Pritzker’s car, parked in a little woodsy lane near a local golf course, where he’d gotten a little further each time. “Christ, it was like high school all over again!” Nick thought. The second time Jason had gotten her bra unhooked and his hands on her bare tits; the third time, she’d taken her blouse and bra off completely. He’d licked and sucked her tits, then finger-banged her until she came. Emily had played with his cock until he shot come all over his own shirt.
In between the letter’s desperate apologies and the affirmations of her love for Nick, Emily had been pretty hard on herself. “I was a complete fool” was the least of her self-condemnations. She freely admitted having been naïve about Pritzker’s attention at first, and then denying to herself how serious and wrong her behavior had been.
“I just lied to myself, Nick,” she wrote at the end. “I pushed all thoughts of my marriage vows, my responsibility to you and the boys, out of my mind. I acted as though this was nothing more than a little bit of flirting with a friend at a party. I am more ashamed than I can possibly put into words.
“And when you told me you were thinking about divorce it all hit me in the head—suddenly. How selfish, how childish I had been, to think that my desire for a little ‘excitement’ entitled me to fuck around behind your back.
“I didn’t fuck him—please believe me. But I won’t lie to you and say it wouldn’t have ever happened. It’s what Jason was after, and it would have happened, if your walking out hadn’t put an end to the whole thing.
“I’m done with him—forever, absolutely, no matter what. I never want to see that smooth-talking prick again, even if you never forgive me. Even if you divorce me. I’m just so very, very sorry that I didn’t get my head out of my ass soon enough to see what I was doing to us.
“And I can’t help wondering whether things would be different if I’d put more energy into our marriage, into making things more interesting and exciting, instead of that stupid flirtation with Jason—whether you might still want to be married to me, instead of looking for another woman to give you that spark.
“I am so very sorry. Can you ever forgive me? Can you give me the chance to make this up to you?
“Your foolish, loving wife—
Emily”
**********************
Nick sat for a while, gazing out at the back yard, before he went into the bedroom. Emily was asleep, curled up in the fetal position under the bedspread. He stood watching her for a few minutes, then found a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He took off his clothes, lay down next to her in his boxers and tee-shirt and was asleep within moments.
Some time later, he had no idea how long, he came awake feeling Emily’s warmth against him. As his eyes opened he realized she was naked, squirming against him, kissing his neck, looking desperately into his face. When she saw him looking at her she started to cry, holding onto him tightly.
“Please, please,” she said, “please love me. Please, Nick—whatever happens, whatever you’re going to do—just hold me and love me.”
She pulled his tee-shirt up and kissed his chest, slid a hand down into his boxers and caressed his cock, then leaned down and yanked the boxers off. Before he could stop her she had taken his half-hard dick between her lips and begun kissing and sucking it.
Nick’s response could be summarized by the words, “What the hell.” He didn’t know what was ahead—he wasn’t even sure what he wanted—but there didn’t seem to be any good reason to pull Emily off his cock. He stroked her back and her ass while she sucked him, getting him very hard in her mouth, moaning when his hand slid between her legs and into her wet pussy.
Then she was rolling over, pulling him down on top of her between her open thighs, kissing him and saying, “please, baby,” over and over again. He drove himself into her smoothly, groaning, and fucked her while she clung to him like a drowning woman to a floating log, squeezing him, kissing his neck, humping her hips up at him until he shot his sperm into her.
They lay side by side, still in each other’s arms, catching their breath. Emily was weeping quietly onto his shoulder, her face hidden from him. Each time he moved as if to disengage himself she clung to him tightly.
Finally he said, “I need the bathroom, Em,” and she released him. When he returned he sat up against the headboard, gazing at her unhappy, uncertain face.
“How can I ever trust you again?”
She lowered her head, nodding.
“I mean, this wasn’t a drunken fling, a one-night discretion. This was a flirtation, an affair over several weeks. Planned meetings. Emails back and forth—when can we meet, when will hubby be out of the way? Pretty fucking cold-blooded, Emily.”
“I know,” she said, not looking up. “It’s … it’s really terrible, what I did. I have no excuse.”
Then she said, “I didn’t … have sex with him though. I mean, actual sex.”
Angrily Nick said, “but you were going to, right? Until I screwed up your plans?”
Again she nodded. He could see tears on her face again.
“So—how can I ever trust you? How can I live with you after this without wondering when the next sleazy asshole will come along and work his fingers into your panties?”
She sat up straight, brightening. “You mean you’re thinking about it, Nick? There might be some chance we could …” She looked hopeful, and very nervous.
“I don’t know. There’s ‘once burned, twice shy,’ right? I mean, you put your hand on a hot stove and burned the shit out of it, maybe you’ve learned your lesson. But there’s also ‘once a cheater, always a cheater.’ How do I know that if I find some way to get past this, some way to get over your stabbing me in the back, that you won’t do it again in a couple of years—once the dust has settled, once everything’s back to normal, and life starts getting a little dull again?”
Suddenly he wanted to be out of there, he didn’t want to talk any more. He jumped up and started putting on his clothes. When Emily began to speak he put up his hand.
“No more, Em, okay? Not now. I’m going out. Make some dinner, or call me and I’ll pick up some take-out. We can talk then.”
And he left the bedroom.
**********************
God knows why—the second, third, and fourth balls he hit at the range were pure, perfect drives, nearly 250 yards, right down the middle. The next 50, he pretty much sprayed all over the place. But he worked up a sweat, and the hour spent not thinking about his marriage was a relief.
The relief ended on the drive back home, though, even though he took the long way, out around the park, enjoying the bright sunshine and the sight of all the joggers and bikers taking advantage of the day.
What to do now? His questions to Emily had not been rhetorical. He’d done what he’d set out to do—his preemptive strike had put an end to her sleazy affair with that prick, and put the fear of God into her.
Now that seemed as though it was the easy part. How did they put their marriage back together?
**********************
Emily had made a paella, with shrimp and Chorizo sausage, that was one of Nick’s favorite meals. They ate it in near-silence, with her examining his face anxiously for clues as to his mood. When they’d cleared the plates he said, “let’s go sit on the deck, Em.”
She brought out two cups of coffee and they sat at the little table.
“Okay,” he said, “the ball’s in your court. You fucked things up—how are you going to fix them?”
“Do you … want to stay with me, Nick?”
“Yes. I love you, Emily—you and the boys. I don’t want to be a divorced dad in a small one-bedroom apartment, seeing his kids on alternate weekends. But you just blew this marriage up—how do you propose to put it back together?”
She started to cry again, and waved her hand at him. “Wait, please—wait.” She took a shuddering deep breath, and brushed the tears off her face. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry any more, just give me a minute.”
She stood up, her arms folded tightly across her chest, and walked a couple of times around the deck before coming back to sit down facing him again.
“Here’s how,” she said, in a tight, almost strangled voice.
“First, I confess everything to you, every part of my foolish, stupid behavior. I’ve tried to do that in the letter—and if you have any more questions, now or later, just ask and I’ll answer them.
“Second, I apologize to you. Not just once but as many times as it takes, until you really really know how sorry and ashamed I am. Ashamed of what I did, and sorry for the pain I caused you.”
She knelt before him then, putting her arms on his knees and looking up at him. “I am so sorry, Nick. I hurt you very badly, and there’s no excuse. I was a selfish idiot. I hope there will be a time when you’ll be able to forgive me—but I know it’s not now, not yet.”
Still watching him, she got up and returned to her chair.
“Third, I make it up to you—every single day. By showing you that I can be a loving wife who is devoted to you, who appreciates you, who wants to make you happy. And who is happy just being your wife.”
Ticking them off on her fingers, she said, “I’m going to be loving, patient, supportive, attentive, and fun. I’m going to pamper you, cater to you, and make sure you’re getting what you need.”
She reached over and took his hand. “And that includes in the bedroom. I know things have gotten a little … not dull, maybe, but routine. But no more!
“If I have to read books, buy sexy underthings, get you to screw me on the kitchen floor…all of that sounds good to me, Nick.”
“And what about Di—, what about the other woman I’m interested in?” He gazed at her, keeping his face blank.
Emily bit her lip. She said, “I don’t have any control over that, Nick. I’d like you to never see her again, but it isn’t up to me, is it?
“But I know what I’d like. Do you think you … well, if …”
She shuddered, then shook herself. “Do you think we could try it for a month, maybe? Just you and me? Me doing everything I can to make you happy, keep you interested and satisfied at home? Showing you how sorry I am, and how much I adore you?”
Nick got up and walked to the far end of the deck, his back to Emily, grinning to himself. He was feeling a strange mixture of anger, excitement, and pride in himself. He’d done what he always did: figured out what he wanted, gone after it, and gotten it. Or at least it seemed that way ….
He turned around. “Okay, Em. I’ll give it a month. It’s not like I was in a big hurry to walk out of this house and away from the boys. And I won’t see her again, while we’re trying to fix things.”
She jumped up with an eager smile and came towards him, but he raised a hand to stop her.
“But don’t you think for a minute that I’m not fucking furious at you, or that I trust you one inch. Because I don’t. What you did with that asshole was shabby and cheap. It was unworthy of you, and sure as hell unworthy of the love I’ve given you. It fucking sucked!”
He turned away from her and stomped back into the house.
**********************
A month went by, and then a couple of weeks more. Nick didn’t bring up the deadline, and Emily certainly wasn’t going to.
It was okay. Things were “okay,” it seemed to him. They were getting along, and Charlie and Ben seemed totally unaware of any problems. That at least was a good thing.
Emily was attentive, devoted, loving. They had a ton of sex, at least as much as Nick could have wanted, and she was almost desperately eager to please him. She offered new positions, surprised him in the shower, bought some wonderfully trashy lingerie. She may even have gone online to read about fellatio techniques, because her blowjobs were deeper and more pleasurable than ever.
And it wasn’t just the sex. There were backrubs, there were special desserts, there was the weekend away she planned for them at a really nice Bed & Breakfast on a lake while her parents took the boys. Emily watched him constantly and catered to him; she tried to please him as though she were a king’s concubine and one false move could lead to her exile, if not her execution.
So why wasn’t he happier?
Nick reflected on this. He was in the middle of a fairly frantic afternoon at work, but he couldn’t concentrate. He shoved his paperwork aside, leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk, giving himself 15 minutes to think.
One thing was obvious: he still didn’t trust her. The betrayal with Pritzker, even though it hadn’t gone all the way, still left him feeling bitter every time he thought about it. His rational brain said that Emily would never, EVER try something like this again—but the fact that she’d done it once was a brutal kick in the ribs. His raging anger at her was never all that far from the surface, though it had calmed down a lot.
But he realized that there was another issue: he almost didn’t have a wife anymore—he had a servant. Emily was nervous, always walking on eggshells, constantly checking his face for any sign of disapproval or anger. Her mantra seemed to be, “Please Nick.” Or maybe even, “Don’t Piss Off Nick.” Or “Give Nick Absolutely Everything He Wants, Even Before He Knows He Wants It.”
Back in the happier days of their marriage, Emily had been a delightful partner. She was energetic and funny and feisty—no pushover. She stood up for herself, she disagreed with Nick when she thought he was wrong, she mocked him at times. They had been equals, loving partners unafraid to take each other down a peg. Now that was all gone.
Nick was sure that he had changed too. He was harder, more closed. He didn’t come home every day and tell Emily all about work, or engage her in conversation about their relationship. He watched her coolly and let her serve him—whether it was a nice dinner, or a nice fuck from behind with her bent over the living room couch. It was one of his favorite ways to do it, actually, but she’d never liked it all that much; it felt humiliating to her. Now she’d let him do it five nights a week if he wanted.
He realized that he didn’t want a submissive concubine—he wanted his old wife back. But he was self-aware enough to see that it wasn’t just her behavior but his own that had changed; and he was clear-sighted enough to realize that he didn’t have any idea how to get back to what they’d once had.
**********************
It was the third week of September. Emily was back to teaching, but she was still managing special dinners, still keeping up with the Victoria’s Secret nightwear and energetic sex, still being cheerful and loving and attentive. And he could see the strain of it on her face, when she didn’t know he was watching her.
Until he came in the door on a Thursday around 6:30 and ran into a buzz-saw. As he approached her in the kitchen with a “hi, honey” and reached to give her a kiss, she backed away coldly.
“I understand someone’s had a promotion,” she said from between clenched teeth. She looked and sounded like a Marine drill sergeant—a seriously pissed-off one. “Were you ever planning to tell me about it?”
And before Nick could reply she turned away, waving a hand dismissively at him. “No, don’t even say a word. I’m going to get the boys.” And she stormed out into the yard, calling for Charlie and Ben.
All through dinner as they ate and the boys chattered away, Emily leveled murderous glances at him. It was almost funny, and Nick realized that he hadn’t seen his wife angry at him—not once—in something close to two months. He was sort of enjoying it, God knows why.
Emily rejected all of Nick’s help in getting the boys to bed, so he gave up and watched a re-run of “NCIS.” When she came into the living room around 9, he could see she was all set to let him have it. Fine, he thought. Let’s fight—let’s see what that’s like.
“Do you know how embarrassing it was, talking to Suzanne today?” Emily glared at him. She didn’t even sit down, instead standing over him with her arms folded.
“She told me she needed to remind you to bring your passport in so she could arrange for the visas you need for the next few months, all those trips to Japan and Singapore.
“And then she said, ‘oh Emily, you must be so proud of him, with this big promotion and all. Did you guys have a big celebration?’ And I was so stunned, I didn’t know what to say.
“Finally I sort of stammered, ‘uh, yeah, it’s been great,’ or something like that. I felt like a goddamned IDIOT, Nick! And I’m sure Suzanne could tell I had no idea what she was talking about.
“She said you were promoted back in July! And here it is, more than two months later, and you haven’t said Word One to me! Was I supposed to go the rest of my life not knowing I was married to the Vice-President for Far East Sales? Is that none of my business all of a sudden?”
She paced around the room, then sat down in the armchair across from the sofa. Nick hadn’t opened his mouth. She went on for another few minutes in the same vein: she couldn’t believe he’d kept this from her, she’d been so humiliated, etc. She was utterly furious, and it seemed like her anger was letting her discharge some of the tension of the past few weeks.
“I know our marriage is on thin ice—and I know it’s because I screwed up. Believe me, there’s not an hour that goes by when I don’t think about that! But you promised that we’d both give it a try, staying together. And I would have thought that meant talking to each other, sharing the news about minor things like, oh, I don’t know, A HUGE PROMOTION!”
Emily’s mouth snapped shut and she sat glaring at him. Nick could see her eyes were tearing up.
“Well,” he said, “you certainly seem to be worked up about this—”
“Ya THINK?” she interrupted.
“But I wonder whether Suzanne mentioned exactly WHEN I got the promotion?”
Emily shook her head. “She just said it was in July sometime.”
“And do you happen to remember anything else I found out about in July?”
Her face got pale, and she looked down. “Yes—yes, of course I do.”
“I learned about you and Pritzker before I got a chance to tell you about the promotion,” he said, letting his voice get hard. “And, by the way, I learned about it the SAME DAY—I came home at lunchtime and found your email open, and saw your messages to that cocksucker!”
Emily gasped, and stared at him. He had never told her this before.
“And when I realized that you’d been keeping something from me—something pretty fucking important to our marriage!—I didn’t exactly feel like sharing my news with you. Is that so hard to understand?”
She shook her head, looking miserable. All the fight had gone out of her.
Now Nick was on his feet, pacing. “So yeah, you’re right, I should have told you. But I guess I was enjoying keeping my secret from you, Em—a little bit of ‘tit for tat.’ Plus, at least my secret was something good, not something sleazy and selfish.
“I’m going for a walk,” he said, and headed out the door, not looking back to see her crying quietly.
**********************
The next morning, getting breakfast on the table and Ben and Charlie dressed and fed and out the door, was almost entirely silent. Emily and Nick moved around one another smoothly, efficiently, without friction but without warmth, either.
Nick didn’t know what Emily was feeling. He himself was calm, even relaxed—their argument the night before, and then his long walk around the neighborhood, had brought some things into focus for him.
When she came back into the house after seeing the boys onto the school bus, she headed for the bedroom without a word.
“Em—”
His voice startled her, and she jumped a little. She turned and looked at him, appearing unhappy and wary.
“How about if I bring home some take-out tonight, so you don’t have to cook?”
“That would be … nice, Nick—thanks,” she said carefully. They talked about Chinese, Mexican, Middle Eastern, and decided on Five Guys hamburgers, which the boys adored.
Then he said, “and I’d like us to spend some time together tonight when the boys are in bed, okay?”
Looking even more concerned, she nodded. Nick came over, held her gently and kissed her, feeling her standing as rigid as a statue in his arms.
**********************
The boys loved the hamburgers, predictably, and Nick and Emily collaborated on bathing them and getting them into bed, smiling at one another when the usual bathtub water fight soaked the bathroom floor. When both kids were sleeping soundly, Nick settled himself and Emily at opposite ends of the living room couch.
The warm, comradely feeling they’d had while taking care of Ben and Charlie had dissipated, and he could feel the tension coming from her.
“Okay,” he said, watching her wary eyes. “Last night was good, I think.”
Emily looked surprised for a moment, then her face softened and she nodded. “Yes, I think so too. We—”
“I—” They both stopped, then laughed. Nick said, “I have some things to say, but you can go first.”
Emily said, “the reason I think it was good is because it hurt me so much. SO much.
“I mean, there you were with this huge promotion, this exciting new job, and probably lots more money, and—
“And I didn’t know anything about it! You’d kept this huge secret from me, and I …” She looked right into his eyes. “I felt so excluded and so betrayed, and I was so angry—and then you told me exactly when you found out, and of course I understood why you hadn’t told me.”
“And all this time I thought you only learned about my, my—affair—when I told you, in the letter. I had no idea you’d found it out on your own. My God, Nick, I am so sorry for that!”
She sighed. “So THAT took the wind right out of my sails. But when I thought about it later, I realized what a good lesson it was for me. For weeks I’ve been feeling so terrible about what I did, about how badly I’ve hurt you, and terrified you’re going to leave me, and—
“And this, this is the first time I just felt hurt myself. How could you do that to me? And then I realized, well Emily, maybe for the first time you’re getting a little tiny taste of how Nick has been feeling all this time. Betrayed, left-out, kept in the dark. Except the secret I kept from you was a thousand times worse.”
She stopped, looking down. He could see the tears on her cheeks. “So I figured, anything that hurts me THAT way, that lets me be in your shoes a little bit, is probably good for me. I’ve been feeling so guilty and frightened, I haven’t spent enough time actually thinking about how YOU must be feeling.”
She laughed sadly. “After last night THAT problem is gone!”
Nick waited, but Emily was done talking. He said, “yeah, I think so too. That’s one of two reasons last night was good.
“But the other, strangely enough, is that it was the first time in more than two months you’ve stopped cringing around me. You were furious—you really let me have it, and—guess what?—I realized I missed it.”
They smiled at each other, both amused.
“I mean, I WANTED you submissive, for a while. I wanted you feeling guilty and ashamed, and terrified I was about to walk out the door. But it’s starting to get old, you know? Obsequious Emily is not the woman I married—she’s not the woman I love.
“And I realized that while you keep wanting me to trust you again, you haven’t been trusting me—not to leave, I mean. You don’t trust that I love you and I’m trying to give you another chance.”
He was getting a little agitated now, and he took a breath. “Why should I trust you, after what you did, when you won’t trust me? So you need to do that, Em; you need to start being yourself, and remember how long I’ve loved you.”
He paused again. “Maybe you were being a doormat because you thought I was insisting on it, but I’m done with that. The month I promised you has stretched to seven weeks and I’m still here. I’m still here, I’m sleeping in bed with you every night, and I’m not seeing … anyone else.”
He watched her, thinking about it; and then she nodded her head. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll work on that.”
They spent the rest of their evening apart. At 10:20 Nick was suddenly so exhausted he couldn’t hold his head up, so he undressed and brushed and went to sleep. Some time he later he felt Emily slide into bed behind him. She kissed the back of his neck, then snuggled up to spoon him.
**********************
Nothing particularly dramatic happened after that, nothing sudden, but things got better. He noticed after about a week that he felt warmer towards Emily, that their conversations were easier and a little less stilted.
One night when he forgot to stop for the dry-cleaning he said he’d pick up she snapped at him for being thoughtless—then stopped, looking at him a little worried—then shrugged her shoulders and went back to her cooking.
He said, “you’re right, Em. Sorry. I’ll get it tomorrow, I promise.” He watched her look back at him with a little half-smile. “Okay,” she said, and they let it drop.
When she got into bed that night, wearing nothing special, just one of her everyday nighties, she snuggled up against him and put her head on his chest. She said, “let’s make love tonight. Like the old days, okay?”
It wasn’t great—it was kind of awkward, in fact. They kissed and touched, sweetly, a bit carefully, and finally he was between her legs, thrusting, in good old missionary position. Nothing unusual, nothing at all like the wild sex-fantasy stuff of recent weeks.
When it was over, she clung to him tighter than usual, and whispered, “I love you.” They fell asleep entwined, as they hadn’t done in a long time.
*********************
“I did it today,” she said quietly. Her back was to him, facing the stove; he’d just come home from work.
He knew right away what she’d meant. They’d discussed it and planned it a few days ago—how Emily was going to contact Pritzker’s wife, in case she didn’t already know what a cheating asshole she was married to.
“How did it go?” he asked.
She came and gave him a quick kiss, looking tired and little pale. “Not as bad as I was afraid it would be. When I explained why I was calling there was this long silence, and then she said, ‘actually, this isn’t the first time I’ve heard this story.’
“She said after the last time she’d told him, and absolutely promised her parents, that if it ever happened again he was gone. I think she was going to call a locksmith right away, so he wouldn’t even be able to get into the house at the end of the day.”
He gave her a slight smile. “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”
Emily sighed a little, and put her arms around him and her head on his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Nick. I know I’ve said it a million times. But right now I’m feeling sorry for her, too, and for what I did. Three kids and married to that selfish bastard and about to be a divorced single mom. And what I did didn’t help any.”
“Honestly, Em, and I’m not even trying to make you feel better. But if he hadn’t gone after you, it would have been somebody else. The guy is a low-life piece of shit. I can feel sad for his wife and kids too, but Pritzker has it coming.”
*********************
They were doing better, they were almost there, but he couldn’t let it go. Not quite.
And then a few days before Halloween, Nick came into the office and found Suzanne weeping quietly at her desk.
“Suzanne, what’s wrong?”
She looked up, embarrassed. “It’s nothing, it’s just Matt, he…” She started to weep again. Matt was Suzanne’s son—he was 26.
Nick took her hand gently and said, “come on, let’s go into my office.” He settled her down on his couch and closed the door.
“Is he all right? Is he hurt?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not that—it’s Tina, his fiancée, she’s…she broke up with him.”
Nick sat with Suzanne for a while, listening quietly, patting her hand, and the story came out. Matt and Tina were only three months away from their wedding, and he’d cheated on her. He and his friends got really drunk on a trip to Miami Beach, and he had a one-night stand with a girl he picked up in a bar.
Tina heard about it through mutual friends, and she’d broken the engagement, returned Matt’s ring, and wouldn’t speak to him.
Suzanne said, “Matt knows he screwed up, Nick. He’s beside himself. He’s apologized, he’s told her he would do anything to make it up to her, promised he’d never cheat again so long as he lives. He asked about counseling…
“But she’s just so hurt, so angry. And it breaks my heart—not just because Matt’s my son, but because they were so good together. They really made each other happy. It’s just such a waste, you know? A great relationship, thrown away because of one really dumb mistake.”
They talked about it for a while, and Suzanne eventually started to feel a little better. She gave Nick a half-smile.
“Thanks for listening to me, Nick. I’m sorry to get so emotional, but—”
“Don’t be silly, Suzanne. I’d be upset too. I’m sorry for Matt. Maybe after some time has passed, Tina will give him another chance.”
Suzanne went off to the Ladies Room to wash her face, and Nick finally sat down to work. But the story kept popping back up in his mind all day, and not surprisingly it made him think about himself and Emily.
On the drive home he asked himself the big question—the one he’d wrestled with over and over again back in the summer: was he better off with Emily or without her? And the answer was pretty obvious.
Did he want to be a divorced guy, seeing his boys a couple of times a week at best, living in some apartment, trying the whole dating scene again? No.
Did he think Emily would ever cheat on him again? Well, nothing in this life is ever a sure thing, but: No.
Had she owned up to her stupidity, and done everything she could to make it up to him? Yes.
Did he still love her, and did their family life make him happy? That was the easiest one of all: Yes.
He called Emily from the car. “Hi, Em. Listen, do you think you could get a sitter on short notice? I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight.
“No, nothing special is going on, I just want some time with my wife.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll be home in 20 minutes, you can tell me then. Thanks, bye.”
*********************
Nick was full—he loved the veal Saltimbocca at Bistro Romano—and Emily was a little bit tipsy. She’d had most of their bottle of wine, since Nick was driving.
He paid the sitter, watched until she got her car started and drove away, then locked the front door and turned off the outside lights.
Emily was waiting for him by the stairs, smiling, but he said, “come into the kitchen with me, would you Em? I’d like another half-glass of wine.”
She’d been wary at first during dinner, wondering if something serious was on Nick’s mind, but they’d had a nice time, and now she was feeling relaxed and happy.
They sat, and Nick told her about Suzanne’s son and his broken engagement. He reached across the table and took Emily’s hand.
“I’ve been thinking about it all day. Such an unhappy ending—such a waste of what sounds like it was a great relationship.
“I don’t want the unhappy ending, Em. I want this to be over, okay? You and me: we’re back. We’re done with it. You did something really fucking stupid, I was hurt and angry, we worked on it, and now we say enough.
“Is that okay with you?”
Emily smiled broadly, holding his hand tightly. There was one tear sliding down her cheek.
“Of course, honey. You know that’s what I wanted all along.
“It doesn’t mean I’m going to stop feeling ashamed of myself, though. That’s going to take a while longer.”
He said, “well, I don’t mind if you keep trying to make it up to me from time to time.”
Suddenly he laughed. “You know, I read a story once about a guy whose wife had cheated on him. It was months later, and she was trying to get him to forgive her. She said, ‘if you’d stay married to me, I’d blow you at the mall if you wanted me to!’ ”
He grinned at her. “So how about it, Em? Will you blow me at the mall?”
Without cracking a smile she said, “nope. But if you come upstairs with me right now, I’ll blow you in the hall.”
They both laughed. Nick reached over and took her hand. “It’s a deal,” he said.
