Page 17 of His Loving Wife

More honestly, she had already predicted her husband’s reaction if she told him her ex-boyfriend had started stalking her. At first, he would have played it off, pretended it was nothing. Then, he would have become fixated. It was what he did when there was a problem he couldn’t figure out. Kate had believed she could handle Paul on her own—her first mistake—but she also feared bringing Andrew into the mix would lead to more suspicion. She dreaded the idea of Andrew turning on her, and she knew that was why she’d kept quiet more than anything else.

“I had no way of knowing Paul would break into our home.”

“How could you? No one would ever think this guy would go so far as to attack your family.”

“I know. But sometimes I think I should have known better. Andrew thinks I should have known better. He won’t say it, but he thinks what happened this summer was my fault.”

“You know that’s not true, right? Some psycho ex-boyfriend started creeping around again. For most people, that would be an annoyance, not a reason to tighten security.”

“If I’d known then what I know now—”

“You didn’t.” Dana moved in front of Kate, forcing eye contact. She wanted what she said to sink in. “This isn’t your fault.”

Kate tried not to blame herself, to accept the fact Paul was responsible for his own actions. Still, when she re-examined Paul’s anger, Andrew’s resentment and the true motive behind the invasion that night, there was only one common denominator.

Her.

Chapter 9

Now

The next morning, Andrew wakes up early and heads to the living room for a meeting with his Second Chances group.

Our therapist, Dr. Sutton, is the one who suggested we each try to find our own way of dealing with our trauma, outside our own therapy sessions and conversations with each other. For me, self-defense classes helped me release the tension I felt building throughout the day.

When Andrew first found the Second Chances support group, I thought the entire thing sounded atypical for him. He’s always been an introvert. Sometimes I forget we met each other at a frat party; it’s so unlike the man I’ve known for the past seventeen years. It’s no easier to imagine him sitting around sharing his feelings with a group of strangers now than it was watching him stand around the beer pong table with his housemates back then. Neither of them fit the true Andrew.

Still, he was taking our therapist’s advice to heart, which I appreciated. When he told me what the group was for—men looking for a second chance at self-acceptance—I thought it sounded a bit odd. These men gathering around their computers to talk about their emotions. It’s a sexist thought, I admit. How many groups are there out there for women? It’s completely acceptable for women to lean on each other, share their deepest fears for the sake of finding common ground. Why can’t men?

He relies on Second Chances most, it seems, when he’s overwhelmed. In the past year, we’ve had our ups and downs, both individually and as a couple. It’s obvious Second Chances has helped bring Andrew out of his shell. My husband from six months ago wouldn’t have suggested any vacations, let alone tack on another week. Six months ago, it seemed he’d rather bury himself in work or drown himself in happy hour cocktails than confront his emotions. I’m happy we’ve moved beyond that, and I can’t deny the group’s influence in helping him.

I pull the covers over my head and doze for another half hour before hopping in the shower. After I’m dressed, I wander into the living room. Andrew is seated on the sofa, his laptop resting on the coffee table in front of him. He’s plugged into his computer, video chatting. I can see the familiarBrady Bunch-style windows on the screen, filled with blurry faces.

I touch his shoulder, and he turns, immediately closing the computer.

“What?” His voice is harsh, and I wonder if Aster’s visit is bothering him more than he’s willing to admit. Maybe that’s why he started chatting with the group so early this morning.

“Are you going to stay inside all day?” I ask, my voice intentionally airy.

“No. I’ll head out soon enough.” He starts putting away his laptop, and I sense he’s embarrassed he reacted like he did.

“Who were you chatting with?”

“Some of the guys from Second Chances.”

“Still?” I wait. “You’ve been in here almost two hours.”

“The internet is as patchy as the cell phone service, it seems. I had a strong connection for the first time in a couple of days, so I was using the time to catch up with some of the guys.”

“How is everyone?”

I only know a few names, the ones he talks to the most often. He’s careful about telling me what their specific issues are, but I wonder. There must be something pulling these men toward one another, driving them to find solace with other likeminded people online. And yet, they can’t all be victims of violent crime, like Andrew. Sometimes I find it hard to believe he can find comfort comparing his own issues to those that are bickering with their wives or behind on bills.

“Everyone’s good. Just catching up.” He looks at me, then continues talking like he expects me to ask more. “Raj is going through some things. Thought I’d offer him my ear.”

Raj is a name I’ve heard him mention several times, mainly because they both work in finance, and it seems Raj has a mean sense of humor. Another one is Vincent. The way Andrew talks, I’d say his sole job is chatting with these men online. I don’t see how he’d have time for anything else.

“Are you sure everything is okay?” I ask. There’s something about the tight lines around his eyes, the flushed hue of his skin.

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