Page 114 of Ripple Effect
My arm covers my eyes. It’s time for all the confessions, but I just got her love back. What’s going to happen if…
“Cal, you can’t stop my reaction to whatever you’re going to say to me.” Libby reaches her hand over. “But your silence has caused too many problems between us.” She twists the ring on my left hand. “Think about the ripple effect of one misunderstanding. What did that almost do to us?”
Shuddering, I roll into her, tangling our legs together. “I don’t know where to start,” I confess.
“How about I start with this?” My heart lurches in fear. “Short of using the bathroom or food, we make a promise to not leave this house until it’s all out—no matter how much we want to. If I need a time-out, you’ll give it to me. But I won’t go any further than the backyard.”
“Not dressed like that you won’t,” I growl.
“Please,” she scoffs. “I’m an old woman in comparison to the kids who live around here.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” I declare huskily. The rose color that infuses her cheeks lends credence to the fact I have a long way to repair the foundation that my marriage is built on. “I don’t see any woman but you,” I tell her honestly.
Taking a deep breath, she lets it out raggedly. “Can we start with the worst?”
“Yes.” I brace, expecting her to ask me about Alliance, but my wife surprises me. Again.
“Tell me what happened with Iris. Even though she’s called to apologize, I wouldn’t let her discuss it. It should come from you. But I have to know.” A terrible pain, the kind that is soul-deep, is emanating from her. Her closed-off face tells me she hopes I learned something in the time apart. I did. I learned the life I led wasn’t worth the price I paid for it.
“It was spontaneous. I swear on my life. It was nothing more than a kiss of congratulations, Libby. Nothing more. Iris just retired. She said Rachel is getting too old to grow up without seeing her mother or their father. I was proud of her for making that decision.”
“And that deserved my husband’s lips on hers?” Libby’s voice is a harsh crack in the otherwise quiet room.
“No.”
Her chest rises up and down with the force of her breaths. “Was Iris the only woman you ever kissed, by accident or for work?”
“Yes, and I swear it wasn’t intentional.”
“How do lips just meet accidentally?” Her voice is like acid.
Even though I’ve had so long to think about it, predicting a perfect conversation and actually having one are two different things. I struggle to find the right words. “It was our anniversary and I’d knew I’d be gone—again—for an indeterminate amount of time. I was emotional. I was feeling things between us that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Or was that just me?”
“It wasn’t just you, but Cal?”
“Yeah?”
“I may have missed you, us, but I didn’t break my vows.” Libby starts to roll away.
I catch her behind the waist and pull her back. “Neither did I—not in my heart. It was a second out of time, Libs. It wasn’t until I saw the picture you sent me that I understood how you felt, how it looked from your perspective. But I need you to understand. I don’t—nor have I ever—thought of Iris that way. Sam was standing right there, Libs. Honest to God, I was talking to her, but my heart was with you. I’d just left our bed, and here was the woman closest to you who knew, well, everything. It was another level of relief knowing Iris would be there for you if something went wrong. And the next thing you know, I’d grabbed her face and kissed her. It was utterly spontaneous; my intent was not how you interpreted it. Yes, we’re all close. We’ve had to be. But not that way. Never that way.” Her body is rigid against mine, but it isn’t trying to get away. I plunge ahead, “Kid you not, it shocked both Sam and Iris as much as it shocked me as soon as I’d did it.”
“Sam was there?” Libby’s voice is carefully modulated.
“Yes.”
“In the room?”
“He was on my computer fucking around with something. Why?”
“Move back, please.”
I do as she requests, not wanting to let her go. I’m so afraid my simple yet honest explanation won’t be enough, and the world will go dark again.
She wanders over to the window. I take the time to admire the strength in her gait. “You’re stronger,” I observe quietly.
“Much. I’ve been working with a psychologist your friend Thorn recommended.”
“Thorn? When the hell did you talk with him?”
