Page 5 of Starting Over with You
It wasn’t easy. There was a lot of anger, and tears, but there were also unstoppable grins. Late-night milkshakes. Daily “I love you, Mom,” texts. We are a team, the best of teams, and through it all, I was constantly reminded not to disturb their lives with the truth.
That my husband of nineteen years, their father, is a cheating son of a bitch who has a whole other family.
While we were traveling for hockey, he was “working.”
His job did pull him away a lot. Being the COO of a tech company will do that. But it shouldn’t have caused him to fall into the arms of another woman. A woman who birthed three of his children. Another pair of twin boys and a little girl. All under the age of eight.
I’m not perfect, but I was a good wife. I made sure the house was always immaculate, his clothes washed, dinner on the table, his boys thriving. I was the perfect partner at work events. I always sent gifts to his assistants and coworkers. I mean, I was the Stepford wife all men dream of. I even gave him blow jobs once a week, yet that wasn’t good enough.
I wasn’t good enough.
I’ve lived with that realization for the last six years. But instead of wallowing and ruining my boys’ lives by confronting him, I focused all my energy and love on them. Well, not all my energy because I used some of it on myself. I started going to therapy, because I couldn’t be the mom and the woman I wanted to be with all the hate in my heart.
My love for Stratford Robbins died the day I found out the truth, and to this day, he doesn’t know I know. I couldn’t allow him an easy out to leave my boys. While he is a cheating husband, he is a good father to them. He is uplifting, challenging, and loving to them. He may miss games, but he always calls before and after. He makes sure they have the best equipment, the best coaches, andtells them he loves them daily. He watches film with them and has called in the help of all his friends in the hockey world to help them excel in the sport they love.
He is good to them, and even if he broke me, I’ve been playing the long game.
Because there is money on the line.
I’m not surprised he never left me. No, he needed me. Not only did I give him the perfect family-man image for his company, but the trust fund from his grandparents stipulated that he couldn’t get divorced until after twenty years of marriage. If he did divorce me, the trust would be awarded to our boys.
So why did I stay, you might wonder? It’s simple. My boys didn’t need his trust fund; they needed him for those formative years of their lives. While he made me believe I wasn’t enough, I refused to allow him to do the same to our boys.
Not when they are everything.
Flint, the oldest of the twins, rushes toward me and wraps his arms around me. A sob breaks from my lips as I hug him tightly, squeezing him to me as hard as I can. I laugh when Ash covers my back, hugging me and his brother.
My boys are massive and make me feel itty-bitty at 5’10”. They tower over me—both 6’6” and built like tanks. They get their height and build from Stratford, but they have my Welsh features. Our eyes are the brightest cerulean and our hair almost black. Ash keeps his hair a little wild along the top, but super clean-shaven along the sides in a signature mullet I hate, while Flint has a mop of curls as unruly as he is.
My boys are handsome little things, and boy, do they know it.
I wrap an arm around Ash, pulling him to me, and look up at my boys with watery eyes. I squeeze them tightly. “I am so proud of you two.”
Ash’s eyes turn a bit sad. While he is the more put-together of the two, he wears all his emotions on his sleeve. But it’s Flint who squeezes my hand. “Not as proud as we are of you.”
More tears well in my eyes. Not because of his words, but themeaning behind them. They found out about Stratford’s other family last month. I don’t know how, and neither will tell me, but they’re the reason my car is packed. I had planned to divorce Stratford as soon as the boys graduated anyway, but they convinced me I needed a new start right away. With them heading to Connecticut, they didn’t feel right about my remaining here in Wisconsin. They worried if they left me here, he’d convince me to stay. I offered to go to Connecticut with them, but it was Flint who said, “Mom, you’ve made sure we were happy while you weren’t. We want you to be happy.”
My perfect boy.
Even though I tried to convince them that I have been happy because of them, they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Ash called my sister, while Flint called my best friend Sadie, to get backup. They love me in ways their father couldn’t even bother to. Of course, he doesn’t know anything is amiss.
We barely had sex, even before I found out. After I had the twins naturally, his cock just didn’t do it for me. I’m a big girl, and it took my best friend buying me a girthy dildo for me to realize that Stratford’s cock wasn’t big enough for me. I never felt full like I craved, so we just participated in a lot of oral sex.
Since I’m not a cheating whore, I had to get my kicks in those times when my vibrator wasn’t cutting it. I also didn’t want him to know anything was up. I don’t do half the shit I did back when I thought he was faithful, and I refuse to be alone with him unless it’s to sleep. I can’t even remember the last time we exchanged I love yous. Or maybe he knows I know and refuses to lose the money.
Ha. Joke’s on his ass.
“There are my boys!”
Stratford’s booming voice has me tensing up, and of course, the boys feel it. They send me looks of support before moving to hug their father. I’m not sure what they think about his infidelity. When I asked, they wouldn’t really give me much. Only that they were worried about me and wanted me to get out. Selfless, they are, which is rare in teens these days. I did well with them.
I look away as they hug, and he clowns around with them. On the outside, we look like a happy little family. But on the inside, we’re nothing of the sort. It’s always been my boys and me, with Stratford coming and going as he pleased. He flew in only an hour in advance of the graduation, arriving just before the boys’ names were called.
Layla, Stratford’s mom, is next to hug the boys, and then his dad, Pete. Stratford takes after his dad in looks, dark-brown hair and green eyes, but his height and build come from his mom. She’s German and comes from a very tall family. She’s almost 6’1” herself, and while I know they love me dearly, I know that’ll change soon enough.
Hopefully, they’ll still be good to the boys.
They gush over my boys while Stratford stands beside us, neither of us saying a word. I have mastered the “act like he doesn’t exist in order to survive” mind-set when he’s around. It’s harder in these kinds of situations, but I won’t ruin my boys’ moment. When it’s time for pictures, the boys put me in the middle of them with Stratford beside Ash. I plaster the biggest smile on my face as I hug my pride and joy. Bursting with satisfaction for all of us. We made it.
