Page 74 of The Breaking Point

That’s cheating.

It’s not sexy. It’s not thrilling. It’s a fire alarm. I was already drunk, raw from everything, and I pressed the glass. The moment she moaned in my ear, that woman who wasn’t my wife, I wanted to die.

I went to Kate. I wanted to confess. But I knew what I had to lose. So, I did what I always did. Buried my head in the sand. She wanted me to sit, I sat. She wanted to be the point person with the kids’ school, I let her. I told myself I was doing it for her. But the truth is, I was doing it for me.

I avoided her because I knew. I knew if I looked her in the eye, I’d crack, she’d see it, and it would all be over. So, I pretended. Until I couldn’t pretend anymore.

Fucking Eli.

I never should’ve invited him to the party. I almost didn’t inviteanyof them. But I got nostalgic. Idiot. Thought maybe it would be nice to see the guys again. Laugh about stupid college shit. They were at the wedding, why shouldn’t they be at the ten-year celebration of it.

It’s not Eli’s fault. He just… told her. Blurted it out, while drunk. The fucker’s always been jealous. He wasn’t at fault. I’m the one who cheated. It took me a long time and a lot of therapy to realise that. I made the decision. They may have goaded me, but I let them. Me.

God, I wish I could take it back.

But that’s the thing about pressing the alarm, it doesn’t stop once it starts. You don’t get to un-pull it. You don’t get to take it back. All you can do is stand there in the noise you made and hope like hell the building doesn’t burn down.

Kate hasn’t forgiven me completely.

Shesaysshe’s trying. I believe her. But some nights we’ll be talking, just normal, easy conversation and then she’ll get this look in her eyes. Distant. Quiet. And I’ll know.

I’llknowshe’s remembering what I did. What I broke. And I wish I could take it all from her. That look. The memory. The pain. But I can’t.

So, I just keep showing up.

I unpack my bag. I fold the laundry. I kiss between putting stuff away and tell her I love her even when her back’s turned. Especially when her back’s turned. Because I know what it took for her to let me come home.

And I’m not wasting it. Not this time.

Telling her, “I’m gonna go check on the lasagna.” I move to leave the room.

She laughs, the sound soft and warm. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”

I grin, already halfway out the door. “If we had poopy babies, it might’ve been different.”

Her laugh follows me like music, echoing off the hallway walls. Smiling to myself, shake my head. Who would’ve thought I’d turn into this guy? Oven mitts and timers. Grocery lists and laundry rotations.

Opening the oven door, the smell of cheese and sauce hits my face as I peek in. Lasagna’s bubbling at the edges, cheese golden, sauce simmering just right. Not bad, I think. Not bad at all.

The front door creaks open and two sets of footsteps thunder in, loud, familiar. Both boys kick off their dirty sneakers by the door, their cheeks flushed from the heat outside.

“Hey, Dad,” they say, almost in unison, surprise flickering across their faces. “Mom have a trip?” Jack asks, tossing his cap on the table.

This past month, Kate’s had a few trips. They’ve simmered down, but she’s the new boss now, so the occasional travel is expected. When she’s gone, I stay at the house. But we’ve been careful, avoiding me staying when she’s home. We didn’t want to confuse the boys, didn’t want to rush things.

I wipe my hands on a kitchen towel and say, “Not quite. Sit down for a second.”

They both drop into chairs around the table, stealing glances at each other, at me. I sit too, rubbing my palms together before resting them flat against the surface.

“So,” I begin, heart thudding, “I asked your mom if I could come home. And… she said yes.”

They don’t react much. Not visibly. A blink. A nod. Alex picks at the corner of the placemat.

I clear my throat. “And I know she’s not the only one I’ve let down.” I take a deep and steadying breath. “I’ve been going to therapy,” I continue. “Trying to figure out where I went wrong, why I let my past come between me and the people who matter most. Your mom. You two. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. And I know that just moving back in doesn’t erase them.”

Their eyes flicker up at me now. A little guarded, but listening.

“This… me coming home… it’s not about going back to the way things were. I don’t want that. I want better. I want to be better. I promise you, starting now, I’m here. For your mom. For you. For real.”

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