I REALIZED MY HUSBAND was cheating on me while I unpacked his small suitcase from his latest trip to Chicago. I didn’t find anything as sordid as a lipstick stain or a phone number scrawled on hotel stationery. The realization came from a sudden musing.
The last time I’d traveled to Chicago with Derrick, we’d had dinner with Melissa, his best friend from high school. It had been over a year ago, and he hadn’t mentioned Melissa since. Not once. Before that dinner, Derrick had been beyond excited to see her again, then nothing.
She’d been lovely too. Petite and blonde—the complete opposite of me. When I’d brought up how pretty I thought she was, my husband had gotten cagey and wouldn’t reply.
Then, as I hung up his dress shirt, I wondered why he hadn’t seen her since, which was when it hit me. Of course he’d seen her—he just hadn’t told me. And he hadn’t told me because he was having sex with her. Maybe even falling in love with her. I couldn’t say how I was so sure, I just knew. Certainty had hit me like a wave and pulled me along in its undertow.
Calmly, I walked into Derrick’s office where he was working on his computer. His flop of dark blond hair draped across his forehead, skimming his wire-rim glasses. When we met in college, I had been flattered by his attention and swept off my feet by his all-American good looks and charm. Now, at twenty-eight, most of his youthful boyishness had faded, replaced by hard-lined handsomeness.
“Derrick.” I stood in front of him, knowing this was the end of our marriage.
His eyes flicked to mine. “What’s up?” He gave me the same crooked grin that had won me over in the first place. Now, it did nothing.
“How long have you been having sex with Melissa?”
For a second, he didn’t react, then he shrunk in his chair like all the air had been sucked out of him. “Why would you ask that?”
I shook my head. “I’m not asking if you’re cheating on me. I know you are. I’d like to know how long it’s been going on.” My heart was too frozen to break. I knew this would hurt later, but for now, I was glad for the cold.
“Claire…” He sighed, shoving his fingers through his hair. “A while.”
“Since we had dinner?”
He averted his eyes to his computer screen, then brought them back to mine. “Yes. Since the dinner. I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
I held up my hand. “No, I don’t want to do this.”
He stood, rounding the desk. When he tried to touch me, I batted his hands away, which made him frown. “I don’t get to say anything?”
“No, you don’t. You’ve been having sex with another woman for a year. I think that’s a pretty loud statement.” I started to walk out of the room, but he caught my shoulders, yanking me against his chest.
“Stop this. I don’t even recognize your voice. Tell me what you’re thinking,” he soothed.
My voice was flat and devoid of emotion, but Derrick was the one who was unrecognizable. Our marriage wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t bliss, but it was nice. We made love almost every night, had a tight group of friends, made each other laugh, and still held hands whenever we went out.
“I’m thinking this is over.” I turned my head to look back at him, my handsome, unfaithful husband. “You know that, don’t you?”
He exhaled a heavy breath and dipped his head to my shoulder. “I don’t want that, Claire. I do love you. I love you so much. I just…I messed up. I’ll end it. I’ll end it right now.”
“No, don’t bother.” I forced his hands off me and spun around to face him again. “If it had been a one-time mistake, I might have been able to get over it. If you’d confessed to me, I might have forgiven you. But this? Me realizing how stupid I’ve been for a year and knowing this would have continued indefinitely had you not been found out? I won’t ever get over this. Our marriage is through. I’m leaving.”
“Claire…” Derrick lurched toward me, and I jumped back, unwilling to allow him to touch me ever again. “Claire, baby, I love you. You can’t leave.” His face had flamed to bright red. His blue eyes were liquid behind his glasses.
“I am. I’m going.” That was never a doubt. What I was doubtful of was my ability to stand on my own two feet. Derrick had propped me up for so long, I wasn’t sure I even remembered how. I didn’t have a job or any skills to land on. All I had was a useless college degree and a sister who would take me in without hesitation.
Those thoughts were for later. For now, my focus was on getting out of our home and away from the stranger who called himself my husband.
I made it to the bedroom before Derrick was on me again, trapping me in his arms. He spoke hot, frantic words in my ear while he held me tight. “You have nowhere to go. You can’t leave me, Claire. You can’t. I messed up, but I’ll fix it. This is not the end. I don’t accept it.”
“Let go of me.” I struggled in his hold, turning and twisting, but his arms were iron vises, and his breathing had reached a fever pitch, ragged and rough. I’d been scared of my husband’s explosive temper before, but not like this. Fear had cracked my icy veneer, rushing through my veins like venom.
“I won’t. You’re my wife.”
He held me tighter, kissing every part of me his lips could find. “Don’t leave, baby. Stay.”
I scratched at his arms and hands, yelling for him to let me go, tears filling my eyes, panic taking root in my gut. He only held me harder, kissed me with more fervor. Adrenaline spiked in my blood. If I didn’t fight, I’d lose. I stepped on his bare foot with my heel, digging in hard. He grunted in pain and his arms fell away as he stumbled back.
I whirled around while backing toward the nightstand to my cell phone. Never in a million years had I thought I’d need protection from Derrick, but the wild look in his eyes sent chills down my spine.
He started toward me, and I picked up the phone, dialed 911 before I could doubt myself, but hesitated to press send. When his gaze landed on my phone, shock wiped the snarl and anger from his face. His glassy eyes widened, and he sucked in a deep breath.
“Are you scared of me, Claire-bear?” He held his hands out, pleading. “You have to know I would never hurt you.”
“But you did, Derrick. You’ve hurt me.”
“I know, I know I messed up. God, baby, you think I don’t know? But I’d never hurt you physically.”
I rubbed the sore spots on my arms and took another step away. “You did that too.”
“No,” he rasped. “I didn’t mean to.”
“It doesn’t matter what you meant to do. You did it, and now we’re through.” Conviction still held strong in my voice, but I’d gotten shakier and off-balance.
His muscles bunched, and I knew, without a shred of doubt, I had to get out of there. The second he came for me, I darted for the door, but I never had a chance. Derrick’s arm shot out, and that was the last thing I saw before it all went dark.
