Page 61 of F*ck Marriage

“It’s none of your business, Satcher. You’re with Jules. Who I choose to spend my time with is not your concern.”

He’s in my face and I don’t know how it happened. One minute he was holding onto the doorknob, the next we’re virtually nose-to-nose.

“Say you want me. Say you want me and I’ll leave her to be with you.”

My pulse is pounding behind my ear; I can feel the flicker of it under my flesh. My mouth falls open ungracefully. I can smell his skin, his breath is lukewarm on my cheek. I’m tempted to reach out and pull his mouth toward me, but I’ve already made one mistake tonight by kissing Woods.

“No.” I turn my face away. “I can’t ... Jules…”

He’s already backing up, a sad expression on his face.

“I need another drink,” I say, standing up.

I make it out the door and halfway to the kitchen before I feel his hands on me. Suddenly the floor is no longer beneath my feet. I gasp as Satcher tosses me over his shoulder and carries me back to my bedroom. He tosses me on the bed and I glare up at him too angry to speak.

He points a finger at me. “No more drinking.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he turns his back to me.

“Sometimes, Billie, God sends an ex back into your life to see if you’re still stupid.”

He’s gone before I can throw something at his head. I cry myself to sleep. Sober.

Chapter Twenty-Five

There are all kinds of reasons people get divorced: they grow apart, there is abuse, they were never in love in the first place, they want different things…

But when two people get divorced because one of them let a third person into the marriage, the person who was left behind faces years of psychological warfare they launch against themselves. Your person didn’t love you enough. Do you know how devastating that is? To realize you weren’t loved enough. I spent two years asking myself what I could have done better, scouring my memories for signs that he was unhappy. Why didn’t he tell me? I could have changed, I could have tried harder, I could have…

Maybe I shouldn’t have waited to be better. Is that the problem with all of us—we need a reminder to be a decent wife, a decent daughter, a decent mother? It doesn’t matter now anyway.

On Monday morning, I head to work, my shiner hidden behind a pair of huge sunglasses I borrow from Jules’ closet. I tried caking makeup over it, but that just made it more obvious. To my utter dismay, Woods is waiting for me when I open my office door.

“God, you scared me.” I walk past him, tossing my things on my desk.

“I wanted to talk to you about—”

“Nothing to talk about,” I say dismissively.

My stomach clenches. I don’t want to hear how he regrets kissing me. Apologies of that sort make the heart hurt.

“Stop, Billie, queen of avoidance. We need to discuss what happened.”

“No.” For a moment, I forget about my black eye and look directly at him.

“What happened?” He’s on me in a minute, pulling off my sunglasses and examining my eye.

“Nothing. It was an accident.”

He has my chin between his fingers and I can feel his breath on my face.

“What type of accident?”

I pause. “I took an elbow to the face, it’s nothing.”

Woods’ face darkens. “Whose elbow?”

“For God’s sake, Woods,” I say, pulling away from him. “No one beat me up if that’s what you’re insinuating. Aside from you, of course. But the heart is easily hidden.”

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