Page 93 of Bad Husband

“So you did it to get my attention, but how come nothing I did was good enough? I kept making the effort and you constantly blew me off. If you really wanted to make things work, how come you weren’t trying?”

Tears slowly find their way down her cheeks. “I don’t know why. I guess I thought if I acknowledged anything you were doing, things would go back to normal in a week or so and nothing would have changed.” She breaths in, slow and deep, as if she’s calming herself down. “I love you, Ridley. I know I said I didn’t, but I do. I also can’t tell you how it felt to have you look at me the way you did in Sedona”—her chin shakes again—“and now, so full of hate and resentment for me.”

“I don’t hate you, Mad. Inevercould, but why was lying to me about it was easier?”

Women?

Men are inherently ignorant. If you don’t tell us, we don’t know. Plain and simple.

“You think it was easy to lie to you?” Her gaze falters, and I see it. There’s no way it waseasyon her. “You don’t think it would have been worse if I had told you right away, that I just did it to get your attention? After a while, I didn’t knowhowto tell you. You were finally making an effort to be a part of our lives, and I didn’t want you to think it was for nothing.” She stares at me, and the honesty in her face knocks me sideways. There’s no more apologizing or begging. There’s only this. Her regrets and my lack of attention to what really mattered. “That night in the car when we were lost….” Her voice trails off, but of course, I remember what she’s talking about. The sex in the back of my truck. “I had every intention of telling you what I’d done, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment. I thought once we got to the resort, we could talk about it. But I was scared of what you’d say.”

She’s looking at me again. I can’t deal with the vulnerable side of her; it makes me feel vulnerable, too, so I drop my eyes to the floor.

“Tell me what you want, Ridley. Do you want a divorce?” she asks, stepping forward to close the space between us. Reaching out, her fingers lightly touch my hand. Bending down, I lower my lips to her forehead, pressing lightly, warm and soft. Her reaction is anything but gentle.

And then neither is mine. I inhale loudly, my breath in my lungs exhaling just as harshly. “The way I feel about you hasn’t changed. Itneverwill.”

She draws back and stares at me with pleading eyes, her breathing heavy. “Does that mean… you still want me?”

I hate the way the words send a sharp pain to my chest. Like there was ever a question if I wanted her. There wasn’t. But I still don’t know how to process all this.

I sigh. “I think I need some time to think about all this and process everything.”

She steps back so she can see my face clearly, her hand gently running over my jaw. “Ridley, I—”

“I want to be with you,” I interrupt her. “Always. I just wantyou. Now. A week from now. A year from now. Whenever you’re ready. What I want is never going to change. It’s you. Just you. Always has been. Always will be.” Callan’s face flashes in my mind, my eyes stinging with tears. “The worst part was leaving that day and the look on Callan’s face… the realization I had failed my family in making it work. And then I went to see my dad, for God knows what reason. Brantley and him tried to get me to go out to a strip club and Icouldn’tdo it. Icouldn’teven think of looking at another woman. So I sat on FaceTime with you and boys, hating that I was going to be a weekend dad.” She’s crying again, slow steady tears that feel like drops of acid hitting my heart. “I can admit, the papers woke me up, but then when you didn’t give me any effort back, I gave up.” I swallow, heavily, and then shake my head. “I just… need some time to process this.”

She turns her back on me, and it isn’t out of hate or regret or whatever other reasons she might have resorted to lying to me. She’s trying to give me some space, I suppose.

But I also know if she walks out that door tonight, we’ll only be hurting ourselves.

I know what my heart wants. I also know Madison is worth it. I’ve always known that. I knew it before she did. Real love is taking two hearts, two bodies, two souls and creating one that can laugh and have fun together despite what’s going on around us. If these last two months taught me anything, it was that we could still laugh together despite us trying to one over the other. I guess my dad was right. That’s when you know it’s pure and worth fighting for.

This is what matters. The experience. The forgiveness and how it makes you feel.

My eyes drift to hers and a familiar ache weaves around my heart, threatening to suffocate my words.

“I want you to stay. That’s what I want you to do, but right now, I can’t make this decision. I need to think.”

“Okay,” she says, nodding. “Do you want me to leave? What do you want me to do, Ridley? I’ll do anything but please just don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not shutting you out. Just give me a minute.”

SITTING AND STARING. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. It’s funny, I don’t think I’ve taken this much time to just consider life, since well, ever. I’ve always been on the go. I’ve always believed I think better on my feet so to speak. But sitting here looking out into the night and truly going through my thoughts and feelings, I’m a bit overwhelmed.

Everything that’s happened over the past two months comes crashing in on me. The confusion I experienced when I was served the divorce papers, the moment in the bedroom when Madison told me she didn’t love me anymore, the nights I’ve spent watching Callan at soccer practice and his games, realizing from the beginning my son was unhappy but not knowing exactly what to do about it. All of my attempts to win back the one woman, besides my mother, I’ve ever truly loved. All these thoughts and moments come rushing back and fuck if it doesn’t make my stomach turn.

The storm passed through, the rain all but gone, left puddles on the stone porch outside. We step outside, searching for the soul cleansing rain can offer, our shoulders touching as we sit on the edge of the built-in benches surrounding the outdoor kitchen. The sun’s setting to the west, lighting up the sky in purple and pink streaks.

Madison gave me close to twenty minutes outside by myself as she called Nathalie to tell her she wouldn’t be home tonight and to put Callan and Noah to bed for her.

I certainly wasn’t wild about Nathalie watching the boys after she filled my wife’s head full of bullshit, but I guess I’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Like tomorrow. I’ll definitely be talking to her tomorrow and letting her know she’s to keep her “single mommy” thoughts to herself next time.

As we sit there in complete silence, both our thoughts scrambling to make sense of where we go from here, I know we won’t be perfect because both of us have faults deeper than we care to admit, but I like my faults with her.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness here, Ridley,” she finally says, breaking the silence. “I’m asking for a chance, I guess.” Her hands fidget in her lap. “Maybe we could go on a date one night and remember why we fell in love.”

I can’t help my laugh, but this time it’s not bitter. “We tried that, remember?”