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.