Chapter Twenty-One
I gape at the text then look up at the sleeping form of my husband. He’s been
out until one thirty in the morning drinking—with her! He snores softly,
sleeping the sleep of a seemingly innocent, oblivious drunk. He looks so
serene. Oh no, no, no.
My legs turn to jelly, and I sink slowly to the chair beside the bed in disbelief.
Raw, bitter, humiliating betrayal lances through me. How could he? How
could he go to her? Scalding, angry tears ooze down my cheeks. His wrath
and fear, his need to lash out at me I can understand, and forgive—just. But
this . . . this treachery is too much. I pull my knees up against my chest and
wrap my arms around them, protecting me and protecting my Little Blip. I
rock to and fro, weeping softly. What did I expect? I married this man too
quickly. I knew it—I knew it would come to this. Why. Why. Why? How could
he do this to me? He knows how I feel about that woman. How could he turn
to her?
How? The knife twists slow and painfully deep in my heart, lacerating me.
Will it always be this way?
The tears flow, and his prostrate figure blurs and shimmers through my tears.
Oh, Christian. I married him because I love him, and deep down I know that
he loves me. I know he does. His achingly sweet birthday present comes to
mind.
For all our firsts on your first birthday as my beloved wife. I love you. C x
No, no, no—I can’t believe that it will always be this way, two steps forward
and three steps back. But that’s how it’s always been with him. After each
setback, we move forward, inch by inch. He will come around . . . he will. But
will I? Will I recover from this… from this treachery? I think about how he’s
been this last, horrible, wonderful weekend. His quiet strength while my
stepdad lay broken and comatose in the ICU . . . my surprise party, bringing
my family and friends together . . . dipping me down low outside the
Heathman and kissing me in full public view. Oh, Christian, you strain all my
trust, all my 395 | P a g e
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