I realized my husband was cheating on me while I unpacked his small suitcase from his latest trip to Chicago. I didn’t find anything as sordid as a lipstick stain or a phone number scrawled on hotel stationery. The realization came from a sudden musing.
The last time I’d traveled to Chicago with Derrick, we’d had dinner with Melissa, his best friend from high school. It had been over a year ago, and he hadn’t mentioned Melissa since. Not once. Before that dinner, Derrick had been beyond excited to see her again, then nothing.
She’d been lovely too. Petite and blonde—the complete opposite of me. When I’d brought up how pretty I thought she was, my husband had gotten cagey and wouldn’t reply.
Then, as I hung up his dress shirt, I wondered why he hadn’t seen her since, which was when it hit me. Of course he’d seen her—he just hadn’t told me. And he hadn’t told me because he was having sex with her. Maybe even falling in love with her. I couldn’t say how I was so sure, I just knew. Certainty had hit me like a wave and pulled me along in its undertow.
Calmly, I walked into Derrick’s office where he was working on his computer. His flop of dark blond hair draped across his forehead, skimming his wire-rim glasses. When we met in college, I had been flattered by his attention and swept off my feet by his all-American good looks and charm. Now, at twenty-eight, most of his youthful boyishness had faded, replaced by hard-lined handsomeness.
“Derrick.” I stood in front of him, knowing this was the end of our marriage.
His eyes flicked to mine. “What’s up?” He gave me the same crooked grin that had won me over in the first place. Now, it did nothing.
“How long have you been having sex with Melissa?”
For a second, he didn’t react, then he shrunk in his chair like all the air had been sucked out of him. “Why would you ask that?”
I shook my head. “I’m not asking if you’re cheating on me. I know you are. I’d like to know how long it’s been going on.” My heart was too frozen to break. I knew this would hurt later, but for now, I was glad for the cold.
“Claire…” He sighed, shoving his fingers through his hair. “A while.”
“Since we had dinner?”
He averted his eyes to his computer screen, then brought them back to mine. “Yes. Since the dinner. I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
I held up my hand. “No, I don’t want to do this.”
He stood, rounding the desk. When he tried to touch me, I batted his hands away, which made him frown. “I don’t get to say anything?”
“No, you don’t. You’ve been having sex with another woman for a year. I think that’s a pretty loud statement.” I started to walk out of the room, but he caught my shoulders, yanking me against his chest.
“Stop this. I don’t even recognize your voice. Tell me what you’re thinking,” he soothed.
My voice was flat and devoid of emotion, but Derrick was the one who was unrecognizable. Our marriage wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t bliss, but it was nice. We made love almost every night, had a tight group of friends, made each other laugh, and still held hands whenever we went out.
“I’m thinking this is over.” I turned my head to look back at him, my handsome, unfaithful husband. “You know that, don’t you?”
He exhaled a heavy breath and dipped his head to my shoulder. “I don’t want that, Claire. I do love you. I love you so much. I just...I messed up. I’ll end it. I’ll end it right now.”
“No, don’t bother.” I forced his hands off me and spun around to face him again. “If it had been a one-time mistake, I might have been able to get over it. If you’d confessed to me, I might have forgiven you. But this? Me realizing how stupid I’ve been for a year and knowing this would have continued indefinitely had you not been found out? I won’t ever get over this. Our marriage is through. I’m leaving.”
“Claire…” Derrick lurched toward me, and I jumped back, unwilling to allow him to touch me ever again. “Claire, baby, I love you. You can’t leave.” His face had flamed to bright red. His blue eyes were liquid behind his glasses.
“I am. I’m going.” That was never a doubt. What I was doubtful of was my ability to