Page 4 of What Happened Last Night

How dare he try to get on his high horse because I had finally had enough of his ways? What the fuck did he expect me to be like after what he had done?

“Like this,” he said, waving his hand in my direction. His hand wavered slightly, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who was already well on my way to being drunk. “One minute you’re yelling, the next minute you’re silent. You told me to end the affair, and I did. What more do you want from me?”

I wanted the life he had promised me on our wedding day. The life where he loved and honored me. The life where he was meant to forsake all others. I wanted the fairy tale ending.

“I want you to stop your little skank whore from turning up here,” I said, shocking myself slightly at the venom in my voice. “She was here again today. Parked at the end of the driveway, watching the house.”

“I’ll talk to her, all right?” he snapped.

“No, it’s not all right,” I said. “It’s way past all right. She’s unhinged, William.”

“You’re right about that. She’s stalking me, trying to get me to take her back. I’ll get a restraining order against her, and hopefully, that’ll keep her away.”

“Hmm,” I grunted.

I downed my drink and went back to the cabinet to refill it. I handed William the bottle and he refilled his glass too.

“You don’t believe me?” William said.

“No, I do,” I said. “I just think it’s too little, too late. You’ll replace her with the next one, and I’ll go back to being the one they all pity at parties. The one they laugh at behind her back. The one they’re all secretly afraid they’ll become.”

“It’s not like that, Carlotta,” William said with a sigh.

“Isn’t it? Because I’ve been on the other side of that scenario. Do you remember when we first got married and Justin from your office was having an affair? Whenever there was an office event, the other wives and I used to say how sorry for his wife we felt, how Justin was a bastard for doing that to her. And we meant it, but there was always a touch of smugness in our words because it was happening to her and not to us. And we used to wonder aloud whether she knew or not. Whether she turned a blind eye or whether she was genuinely clueless. And we all agreed that either way, she was an idiot. And now I’m the idiot. Thanks to you and your fragile little ego.”

“You think that’s what this is about?” William slurred.

“God, William, she’s young enough to be our daughter. What else could it be about? Surely, you don’t expect me to believe you actually felt something for her,” I snapped, a bitter laugh escaping my throat.

“What if I did?” William threw back.

“Then you’re more pathetic than I realized,” I replied. “She likes the power of sleeping with the boss. She likes the money you no doubt shower her with. She likes what you represent, but she doesn’t like you. As if someone like her would ever fall for someone like you.”

William shook his head, at a loss for words for a moment. I looked at him critically. He was a good-looking man, there was no doubt about that. His piercing blue eyes were the color of the sky on a sunny day and they sparkled when he smiled. He had a neat black beard and black hair that was just starting to get flecks of gray in it at his temples. He was handsome, but to a nineteen-year-old, he would be someone you described as “not bad looking for his age.” Except apparently, to Candy, but William didn’t need to know that she did indeed want more than his money and his power. He had used Candy to hurt me because his ego had been bruised, and I had no qualms about doing the exact thing back to him.

“So what? Now you’re pissed off because I don’t have feelings for Candy?” William said. “I don’t understand you at all, Carl.”

“I’m pissed off because you cheated on me and made me a laughingstock at your company. What part of that is so damned hard for you to understand?” I shouted.

He stood up and went to the cabinet again. He picked up the bottle of scotch, and seeing it was empty, he opened the cabinet and pulled out another one. He filled his glass almost to the brim and I did the same.

When his glass was full, he turned to look at me. He swayed slightly on his feet and his eyes seemed not quite able to focus themselves. He was definitely past the point of drunk now and judging by the way my head felt a little fuzzy, I wasn’t far behind him myself.

“You made me do it, Carlotta. You pushed me away, made me feel small. And you stopped trying. I mean, look at you,” William slurred, indicating my paint-splattered overalls. “When we first got married, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And now look at you. You look like a fucking tramp.”

That did it. I felt something inside me snap, and I slapped William hard across the face. His head shot to the side as the clapping sound echoed around the room. He moved his head back to the center, bringing up a hand and touching it to the burning red handprint on his cheek. My palm was stinging from the slap.

I took a step backward, shrinking away from him, waiting for his fist to fly toward me.

“I–I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” I stuttered, feeling fear deep in my stomach.

William just stared at me and shook his head.

“No. You shouldn’t have. But I’m not going to hit you, Carlotta. I’m not your damned father.”

He stalked back to his chair, and I sat down on the couch, not looking at William for a moment. He was right. He wasn’t my father. He cheated on me, belittled me at times, but he had never raised a hand to me. Not once. Not like my father who would punch me or hit me with the buckle end of his thick leather belt if I said so much as a word out of turn.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking away our sorrows, our problems. I knew they would still be there tomorrow, still unsolved, eating away at me, at William, at our marriage. But for now, I was past caring. I just wanted to feel numb for a while, to not feel the hurting deep down inside myself.

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