Page 7 of The Temptation of Truth
“That’s the one.” He pulls out and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek, then slaps my ass as he stands from the bed. “That’s the one. I know it.”
I don’t move as he picks up his discarded shirt and wipes off his softening penis. When he smiles at me, I make myself smile back. I’m happy. I should be happy.
He checks his watch. “Fifteen minutes. You have to stay still for fifteen minutes. Let gravity do its thing.”
I give him a thumbs-up. “Fifteen minutes. Got it.”
“And I didn’t miss tip-off!” Brady claps his hands once, bounces his eyebrows, then hurries out of the room.
I listen intently for the television. When sounds of sportscasters and bouncing basketballs filter down the hall, I sit up quietly and rush into the bathroom. Once I’ve peed, I clamp my eyes shut and fight back the sting of tears. My shamefor what I’ve just done mixes with the sense of foreboding summoned by Brady’s words.
That’s the one.
Ishouldbe happy. Excited, even. This could be what we’ve been wanting. What Ishouldbe wanting. I should be excited, but I’m not. Not even a little bit.
In fact, I’m dreading it.
And not only am I so verynotexcited about a possible pregnancy, but the only time I’ve managed a real orgasm with my husband was because I was pretending he was someone else. Not the man I’m supposed to love and spend the rest of my life with. Not the man who wants to be the father of my children.
He deserves better. I’m a terrible wife.
The more I think about it, the more I start to spiral. Fear creeps in, seizing my body. My skin stretches and itches. My fingers tremble. My chest tightens as my breathing grows shallow. I begin second-guessing every decision I’ve ever made.
How did I get here? Isherewhere I want to be? AmIwho I want to be?
Is any of this whatIwant?
It’s about compromise, is all. We’ve only been married for eighteen months. It will get better. Marriage is all about compromise. I’m happy. I am. Itwillget better.
I have to beat back the memory of Uncle Wade’s voice.What has Brady compromised?
No. I shake my head and attempt to take slow, deep breaths.
Brady loves me. He’s always loved me. I love him.
I love him. I love him. I know I do.
It will get better.
I sit on the side of the tub and drop my head between my knees. I do my best to calm myself, but the walls continue to close in. The house, my life, this marriage—it all shrinks around me. Confining me. Trapping me. Suffocating me.
I love him. He loves me. I’m happy.
I’m suffocating.
Before I can overthink it, I sit upright and rush for the first lifeline that comes to mind. The first and only ray of hope in the thick, impenetrable darkness. I grab my phone, open a text thread, and send a message to my uncle.
Me
I’ll do it. When do you leave?
2
MABEL
“Do you have to leave?”
I roll over and wrap my arms around Kat’s waist.
