Page 46 of Breathe Again

I took a deep breath, pasted on a smile. “I know, Bex. I thank God for you in my life.”

We confirmed our shopping plans for Saturday, she left, and I went to get my little bird a snack and to see if she wanted to talk.

She didn’t. She just wanted to lean up against me on the couch while she drew on her iPad. I sat with her, watching the miracle Zale and I created sketch a near perfect depiction of a tiny, detailed bird in a cage.

Zale worked late. Olivia was in bed and asleep by the time he got home at eight o’clock. He looked tired but scattered. He came over to the couch where I was reading and gave me a kiss that didn’t seem to connect. He barely met my eyes. A niggling doubt entered my mind. I tried to forcefully push it away. Still, it persisted, and I had to ask.

“Who were you working with tonight?” I asked, watching to see how he would react.

Suddenly his gaze swung my way, meeting my eyes. He looked surprised.

“The whole team was there. It’s been the whole team about half of the time.”

He looked uncomfortable. A lie of omission is still a lie. My chest got tight. I felt my face go weirdly numb.

“And the other half of the time?” I asked quietly.

“It varies, Mara, depending on who has what going on. Why are you so suspicious?” he snapped.

“Why are you so uncomfortable?” I shot back.

“You’re making me uncomfortable!” he retorted, exasperated, pulling at his tie to loosen it.

“How?” I could feel the monster, scratching and clawing at me from the inside. “All I did was ask you a simple question, Zale, who are you working late with all these nights?”

I could feel the ugliness in my face, flushed with anger, my skin tight, my lips rolled back away from my teeth. I had to stand, my lungs squeezed, and I wheezed, clutching my chest, the morning star swollen, heavy, seeking retribution, for my sins or his, I didn't know.

He reached for me, alarmed. “Mara…”

I slapped his hand away, and paced, my hands going to my hair, pulling it back in a ponytail with my hands.

I turned, growled through gritted teeth, “Who?”

He looked alarmed, his alarm sharpened my shame, my shame fed my anger, and I pulled. Hard.

“Mara, God, Mara, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you.” He held out his hands, placating me.

Tears stung my eyes, I hissed. “Tell me? You’ll tell me? What are you going to tell me?”

“Nothing bad, baby. Fuck! Sit down.”

I paced. Sucked in a breath.

“Don’t you tell me to sit down! You fucking tell me what you need to tell me!” I gritted out.

He held out his hands, palms down. “There are three teams. Sometimes they come in all together, sometimes in pairs or groups of three. Never anyone by themselves with me. I promise.”

“Why is this worth hiding?” My voice sounded as tight as my throat felt.

“It’s not.”

“Do you go in the car with anybody?”

“Never.”

I blew out a shaky breath, watched his face, trying to find the missing piece, and assessed him as he steadily held my gaze.

Finally, my voice broke, “Why couldn’t you just say that?”

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