Page 74 of The Rebound Plan

I do like the ritual of coming here. Sometimes I have the aestheticians come to my house, and I invite the other wives and girlfriends for a day of pampering, and that’s nice in a different way.

But today I needed the setting for the pampering just as much as the pampering itself.

The lemon tea does wonders for my spirits. The polishing scrub and warm wrap helps, too. The hollow feeling in my chest is smaller and fainter than it has been in a week when I get handed over to the massage therapist, who recognizes me. She’s worked on me many times over the last year, and she immediately starts by asking about my trip to the cottage.

“How did that party in Muskoka go?”

I was here two weeks ago the morning after I sent Russ that text offering to help. He hadn’t replied yet, and I’d just assumed…

Well, assuming is foolish.

Right after I left my massage, he’d texted me back and said he had it covered. In hindsight, I know now that was because of Emery.

I don’t know what to make of his girlfriend. Or…his casual hook-up friend?

We’ve texted a few times since I’ve been home. She likes to send me TikToks about Russ, which from anyone else I would interpret as next-level subtlehe’s minebehaviour, but Emery doesn’t give off that energy at all.

It’s like she thinks we have him in common. Like we’re some platonic polyamorous triad.

Sweet summer child.

I clear my throat. “It was really nice. I didn’t end up having to do much. The guy who hosted had it all under control.”

I can’t imagine Max organizing a last-minute party for the team by himself. That’s my job, and if he didn’t have me…

He would have someone else. Literally, anyone else.

Nausea roils inside me, fierce and fast and unexpected.

By stripping me of his usual hockey-related wife tasks, Max has stripped me of everything that I am to him.

He doesn’t have any interest in repairing our relationship because he knows I’ll do it for the both of us.

She finishes with my back, then adjusts the warm blanket covering me to keep the now loosened muscles along my spine nice and cozy, and reveal my leg up to my hip. Then she pats my glute.

“There’s a bit of new dimpling here.” Poke. Prod. “Would you be interested in meeting with one of our technicians for a laser therapy consultation?”

I open my mouth to agree, yes, because the worst thing in the world is cellulite on my ass. Won’t someone please think of the Insta stories?

She makes a tsking sound as she continues to examine me, and I can't blame her. The old Shannon would want to know about every imperfection. I would use the credit card that Max pays off every month to fix it, throw money at the problem of not being perfect.

But the last two weeks have taught me that I am so far from perfect it's not even worth trying. And that no matter how hard I try, I will never actually be perfect because my husband keeps moving the goal posts.

When everything else is stripped away, the only thing he values me for is my commodification as a sexy body.

By leaning into being as beautiful as I can be, I have reinforced that value to him, and I'm done with that.

I mumble some noncommittal answer, and we move on. We talk about other things that I barely hear over the panic surging inside me, the swell of emotion as I realize that this isn't what I want anymore.

I have spent eight years trying to be enough and never managing to get there. But in an urgent, chaotic, intense, moonlit hour, Russ showed me what I’ve been missing. Through the sounds that he made and the quiet, guttural utterances. The way that he reacted to my ass, even with the new bit of cellulite on it.

For the first time in years, I feltwantedin a raw, honest way.

Even as my husband was fucking me through that, it was only Russ that made me feel cherished. And when Max finished, without a thought in the world to my own pleasure, because he never cared about my pleasure, it was Russ who lifted me off, who moved me away. Who curled over me and whispered against my spine, "It's your turn, my queen.”

It’s your turn.

Three simple words I haven’t been able to get out of my head ever since.

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