Page 66 of Beyond our Forever

Diametrically different.

“I’m outta here.” I let go, grabbing my clutch from where I’d left it on the couch, staggering in my heels.

“You’re not leaving,” he answers, grabbing my wrist forcefully. “You’re going to explain to me what all this shit is about and you’re going to start now.”

It’s not a request, it’s a direct order. One that is not up for discussion. Fine, if that’s how he wants to play things, we’ll get to the heart of the matter.

“You can’t deny it, Bruce, Emilia saw you all loved up with a blonde at the mall a few weeks ago, and my friend doesn’t have any reason to lie to me.”

Tugging my hand, he pulls me back onto the sofa, his body next to mine, emanating anger and frustration.

“Now I understand,” he says. “Emilia’s put these doubts in your head.”

“Yes, Emilia,” I blurt out. “Has your memory come back yet?”

Dickhead.

What’s wrong with me? Why the hell didn’t I remember this nasty little detail earlier?

“The only blonde I’ve ever been to the mall with, to Nordstrom to be exact, is Angelique Henry and I can assure you there is not, nor will there be, anything between us.”

“But that’s not true, is it?” I challenge him to tell the truth. I dare him to admit it. “Are you going to deny the fact that you were kissing her on the stairs?”

“Of course I am,” he yells.

“Emilia saw you kissing her, that’s what she told me,” I yell back.

Bruce runs his hands through his hair in frustration, his eyebrows merging to become an angry line, his eyes not leaving mine.

“Listen to me, Ilythia.” Not a request, another order, a command. “For over fifteen years the only woman I have kissed is the one right here in front of me.”

“Bruce,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I can understand, we were separated, you felt alone. But you have to tell me the truth, be honest with me before we can move on. Even if it meant nothing, if you don’t care about her and it’s over, even if you realized you love only me.”

How pathetic I must seem, pleading with my unfaithful husband in the middle of the nightclub to tell me that his affair is over. Let him tell me that she has no claim on him, that he belongs to me. That he is mine, only mine.

“You’re such a fool,” he whispers, his voice full of tenderness, although the anger has not been subdued, just momentarily appeased. “For me there is nobody else but you. If you think that while I was begging you to take me back, I was fucking another woman, then even after so many years of marriage you don’t know me at all.”

“I thought I did, but people change, Bruce,” I reply, as I focus my attention on the fabric of the couch we’re sitting on.

“But I didn’t!” he adamantly insists. “I’m not a stupid teenager, Ilythia, I’m a married man.”

“A man with needs,” I point out.

“Of course I am,” he agrees, waving his arms around in frustration. “And I need my wife, my woman. I need you.”

“Just tell me the truth,” I beg him one last time. It would be so easy to allow myself to believe him, because it’s what I want to hear. I want us to start over, have fun together, be a couple again, and see where that takes us.

“Angelique Henry acts as the liaison with our French clients, Ilythia.”

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what’s coming next. Isn’t this what I wanted?Full disclosure? Be careful what you ask for.

“She is also the wife of one of the partners of the other company.”

“There are plenty of married women who have affairs.”

His index finger on my lips silences me.

“Even if she were single and came on to me, my answer would remain the same, love. The only woman I’m interested in is showing her jealous side right now that I’m sure will seem pretty flattering once we’ve cleared up this misunderstanding.”

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