Page 49 of The Broken Beginning: Part One

I shrugged, as if it was nothing, but really it had been a test to see if I was ready to date. Granted, the whole marriage thing complicated the issue, but it had become even more obvious that all Merc and I were ever meant to be, was friends. He continued to fuck whoever he wanted, and I was left at home to take care of our son. I guess he never thought I’d be willing to live my life on my terms the way he did too.

“I met him at the park where I take Deck to play. He’s really nice and Deck loves to play around with Mitchell. They’re playground friends.”

“Playground friends?” Merc asked, as if I hadn’t just spoken plain English. “So, you took the boys out to eat after they played together?”

I shook my head. “Oh, no. I brought Deck back home and my dad watched him for a while. Paul came to pick me up. I guess he left Mitchell with the nanny or maybe his mom.” Again, I shrugged my shoulders as if it was no big deal. “We went to that new fancy Italian place near the beach.”

“You went on an actual fucking date with someone?” He asked, and I didn’t miss the shock in his voice.

“Um, yeah, I guess it was a date.” I smiled up at him then. “I had a great time.”

“You had a great time?” He questioned, seeming too stunned to do more than parrot my words back at me.

“Yeah, why?”

“You went on a fucking date?”

“Yes, I went on a date with a nice guy.”

“We’re fucking married, Lily! What the hell do you think you’re doing going on a date?”

“Well, Merc,” I started off with a sarcastic tone. “We’re not going to be married forever and what does it even matter to you?”

“It matters! You’re my wife! You can’t date other people.”

I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. All the while, Merc moved between staring angrily at me and seeming puzzled, as if I had lost my mind.

“You can’t be serious right now.”

“I’m dead fucking serious.”

And that stopped me dead in my tracks because for a minute there, I thought he’d been joking and playing the jealous husband role. We sometimes teased one another about our marriage, as if it were real. I just thought this was one of those times. Now, I was seeing it absolutely wasn’t and it was my turn to get angry.

“How many women have you fucked since we got married, Merc?”

“What does that matter?”

“Because I went out on a date with one guy and you’re trying to piss around my office like you have a claim over everything in it, including me.”

“I do. You’re. My. Wife.” He said slowly, as if I wasn’t catching on.

“Only on paper, Merc.”

“Bullshit!”

“How many women have you fucked since we got married, Merc?”

“That’s different.”

“You’re. My. Husband.” I shot back at him in the same tone he had used.

“You know the difference.”

“Do I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He argued and again, I laughed, only that time it came out sounding cold and damn near evil.

“How many women have spent the night in your bed?” He didn’t answer, just stared at me. “How many women have you moved in with you at the clubhouse for more than a weekend?” Again, no answer. “How many women have you purchased gifts for? Cars? Bought their groceries? How many have you gone to dinner with? Lunch? Breakfast because you were still together in the morning?”

---