Tryst (Take It Off #8)(4)
Author: Cambria Hebert

I spent all night drowning my sorrows in ice cream, donuts, and, by the looks of the empty cans on the table, soda. The inside of my mouth was coated with some sort of thick, sticky substance, and I made a face. It was probably congealed sugar…

I stood, ignoring the headache behind my eyes and the feeling I had a truckload of sand behind my lids. I bent sluggishly to lift my duffle bag off the floor and then shut myself in the bathroom, turning the shower as hot as it would go.

After peeling off the clothes I wore yesterday and then slept in, I dumped them into the nearby trash can. They were dirty. Dirty in the way no washing machine or bleach would clean. They would forever be the clothes in which I discovered the truth about my husband. If I ever wore them again, I would remember the exact sound of them moaning from the bedroom. I would remember that sudden drop of my belly when I walked into the bedroom and saw them…

I couldn’t ever wear those clothes again.

The scalding spray of the water made me grimace as heat stung my skin. I didn’t bother adjusting the temperature. My skin felt dirty too. I didn’t know how long Blake had been sleeping around, but considering the fact we hadn’t been intimate in six months, I knew it had to be at least that long. Maybe it was longer.

Maybe he’d never been faithful at all.

I shuddered. The thought of him putting himself inside me and someone else made me sick. I picked up the white bar of soap and began to scrub myself. I didn’t stop until my skin felt raw and sore. Once I was done, I turned my attention to my hair. Even wet, it was a tangled mess. It was long, probably too long for its fine texture. But Joanna said long hair was more feminine. Joanna said men liked women with long, shining hair.

Blake always said he liked it when I wore my hair down around my shoulders.

Blake was a big liar.

After I worked out all the knots with shampoo and extra conditioner, I stood there under the spray, just watching the water circle around the drain before disappearing.

What now?

What did a twenty-four-year-old woman do when she learned her husband wasn’t who she thought he was?

Joanna wanted me to stay with him. She made that perfectly clear yesterday. Claire thought I should make him miserable before taking him for everything he was worth.

That seemed like wasting a lot of energy on someone who really didn’t deserve any more of my time. I always thought being married was the ultimate goal in life. To have someone who would always love you, who would always be there. To build a family and a home around that love.

It seemed like I spent most of my teenage years daydreaming about how perfect life would be once I met that one man meant for me.

How naïve I was.

Not anymore. No, now my naivety was washing down the drain with my discarded shower water. The water turned cool and I shut off the valves and quickly dried off before wrapping the soft fabric around myself. I pulled out my light tangle-free leave-in conditioner, my wide-tooth comb, and my volumizing mouse. After I applied all the product and combed my locks, I felt utterly exhausted and weighed down. I didn’t want to face having to blow it dry, so I twisted it up on my head in a sleek topknot.

My eyes were slightly puffy from crying last night, so I pulled out a little wand of cooling eye serum and applied it to the bags that so graciously added themselves to my face. As I applied some moisturizer to the rest of my skin, I let out a deep sigh. The thought of going into work today literally made me want to jab myself in the eye with a pencil.

But I was going to go.

I wasn’t going to hide at Claire’s like I was ashamed. Like I’d done something wrong. This wasn’t my fault. Yeah, maybe I wasn’t the easiest to live with. And yeah, maybe I wasn’t the sexiest or prettiest girl around.

But I didn’t deserve to be cheated on.

After dressing in a pair of black linen pants and a black-and-white striped blouse, I left the bathroom in a cloud of steam, and the scent of richly roasted coffee wafted down the hallway toward me.

Claire was in the kitchen, dressed in an oversized T-shirt and black leggings. Her short red hair was tousled from sleep, but since she wore it like that on a daily basis, it already looked perfect.

“You roll out of bed practically ready for work,” I grumped, helping myself to a huge-ass mug of joe. I didn’t bother adding my usual creamer. Maybe if I drank it black, the strong brew would burn up some of the sugar still floating in my system.

“Well, aren’t you Suzie Sunshine this morning,” she quipped and eyed me. “How are you?”

Some of the coffee I just slurped dribbled down my chin, and I used the back of my free hand to wipe it away. “Peachy.”

“You should take the day off. Hell, the rest of the week. Give yourself a break. It’s not every day a woman finds her man—” She blanched and stopped speaking.

“I’m going to work, and he’s not my man anymore.”

“You’re really going to do it?” she asked, helping herself to some coffee.

I told her about going to see Jack. I told her I was filing for divorce. She warned me not to make a rash decision that I might regret later. She told me I should take some time and really think about what I wanted.

The thing was, cheating was cheating. Today, tomorrow… five years from now, that wasn’t going to change.

“I’m going to see Jack later today to get things in motion.”

She nodded. “I figured as much. You know I support you, right?”

The short sentence made something in my chest tighten. “I know you do,” I said, my voice softening. It was good to know that no matter what, Claire would always be in my corner.

The muffled ringing of my cell phone floated into the kitchen, interrupting our coffee and wallowing. I carried the half-empty mug into the living room where my bag was lying on the floor and reached in to pull out my phone. The screen flashed HOME across it as it rang.

A splinter of pain pierced my chest. That wasn’t my home anymore.

I hit the IGNORE button and turned away. Claire lifted her eyebrow in silent inquiry as I returned to the kitchen. “Him?” she asked.

“Yep,” I replied, drinking more coffee.

“He isn’t going to just let you go,” she said, voicing the exact thoughts that were occupying the back of my mind.

“He doesn’t have a choice.” I drained the rest of the coffee and placed the mug in the sink. Then I went to finish getting ready for work.

It was going to be a very long day.

3

Talie

Did I ever mention I loved my job?