Page 28 of Slow Kind of Love

Heather shook her head, a quick, fast movement, and exhaled a shuddering breath. She glanced up at the ceiling and then whispered, “So, Reg is having an affair.”

The words dropped like stones, hitting Elise in the chest as all the light seemed to drain from Heather’s face. As if sensing the sudden change in mood, Pancake whined, turned in a full circle twice, and then scampered on his three legs over to the dog bed by the fireplace and settled there, dark eyes on the two of them.

“What?” The hoarse whisper fell from Elise. Reg? It couldn’t be true. He was the perfect husband and father. A man who never missed a hockey game or dance recital or birthday or anniversary. He was attentive and affectionate and not afraid to show it. A man’s man, but with a heart of gold. “How do you…” Mind whirling, Elise wasn’t sure what to say. “Are you sure?”

Heather slumped onto one of the stools and slowly shook her head. “Yes. It’s a thing. A very real thing.”

For a moment, the only noise in the house was the wind against the glass panes and the whistle of it as it blew past.

Damn. Heart hurting for her friend, Elise glanced at the wall. Four o’clock. Then she grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge. When she was settled on the stool beside Heather, she waited, anger burrowing into her chest at the pain in Heather’s eyes.

Heather took a sip of wine and stared at the condensation on the glass. She traced her finger in a random pattern around the entire glass and shrugged.

“He’s been acting weird for a few months now. Coming home late, then watching Netflix until two or three in the morning, which was his excuse for falling sleeping on the sofa. He started that about six weeks ago.” She exhaled and whispered, “He hasn’t slept in our bed since then. I guess he was feeling guilty.” Her voice shook. “I think I knew? You know? But I was in denial and then last night, he came home from work after ten.” Her head shot up. “That’s another thing. He’s started working on Sundays. Said the garage was swamped and he’d been catching up on paperwork or finishing jobs. I didn’t question it. Not once.”

She sniffled, and Elise grabbed a tissue from the box on the table beside the sofa and took her spot across from Heather again while her friend blew her nose.

“I was tired because I’d gone to Detroit the day before with my mom for a day of shopping, and we spent the night and then shopped for most of the day before heading back to Crystal Lake. He wasn’t here. There was a note on the fridge saying he’d be late, and I waited for him like a pathetic small woman.”

“You’re not pathetic or small.” Anger made Elise’s voice thick. “Don’t you forget that.”

“I’d had some wine.” She laughed. “Not good to be drinking alone, but I needed a boost. He walked through the door, and I gave him a beer. I did a strip tease. Sat on him and pulled him close, and when I tried to kiss him, he pushed me away. Said he was too tired. He didn’t look tired. In fact, I realized he looked better than he had in years. He’d lost some weight. There was muscle around his abs. That’s when I knew. What man is too tired for sex?” Her voice caught, and she cleared the frog from her throat. “He got up and said he was going to bed, so I slept on the sofa last night. When I woke up, he was gone to the shop.”

Heather glanced away. “I work so hard to stay in shape, but after four kids, my body just isn’t the same. My stretch marks and cellulite—”

Elise jumped to her feet. “I’m not letting you do this, Heather. We all have stretch marks. We all have cellulite. Instead of hiding it, we need to wear each and every imperfection like a badge of honor because they tell the story of our life.” Incensed, Elise paced the floor. “They’re reminders that we’re mothers. That our babies grew inside of us and we loved them and raised them. That our children fed from our breasts and flourished from our kisses and hugs and love. So don’t you dare let Reg make you think that you’re anything less than amazing.” She paused. “And don’t you let yourself think that either.”

God, she was livid. Reg was a good-looking man. He was tall and well-built. But he’d just turned fifty, and beer and wing nights out with the boys had settled around his midsection. He wasn’t perfect either. He’d lived, and it showed. Even if he’d been working out.

“It’s just hard sometimes,” Heather said softly.

Elise gave her a hug and held her close. “I know. Ben cheated on me countless times, and I always found a way to blame myself.” She stared up at the ceiling, fighting all those old feelings. “I wasn’t a good enough cook, so that’s why he’d been sampling Danielle’s baked goods along with the treats between her legs. Or I wasn’t smart enough, barely graduated high school, so that’s why he was banging our accountant. It wasn’t my fault, and this isn’t yours.”

Elise angled her head back and forced Heather to look up. “There’s no excuse for cheating and being a shitty human being. A real man would face his problems. A real man would work them out.”

Heather shuddered against Elise. “I snooped in his office this morning. Tried to log on to the computer, but the password had been changed. Nothing I tried worked. Then I found a little sticky note stuck to the bottom of one of the desk drawers. It was his handwriting with an email address and a password. I used my own laptop and signed in to that email address, and…” She began to cry harder. “There were pictures from her. Pictures of them in his office at the shop. There were so many emails between them.” She looked up at Elise. “Remember the week before Christmas when Reg was away for four days, supposedly buying new equipment for the shop? He was in Vegas with her. Vegas.” She blew out a long breath. “I’ve never been to Vegas.”

Elise hugged her friend fiercely, and after a long while, Heather moved out of her embrace and reached for her glass of wine, but she didn’t take another sip. She just pushed it around slowly.

“I know I have to talk to him, but I don’t want to.” She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“You take all the time you need.” Elise knew that Heather’s twin boys were away at college, but she wondered about the other two. Mandy was sixteen and Daniel was fourteen. “What are Mandy and Daniel up to?”

“Mandy is tutoring someone until eight, and Daniel has hockey. It’s an away game, so he and Reg have already left, and they won’t be home until later tonight.”

“You stay here. Take all the time you need. Tell Reg where you are and that when you see him again, you and he are having a conversation. An important conversation.” She gave her friend a few moments. “Before you have that conversation, you need to think about things and how you want to proceed.” Her voice was gentle. “Do you want to work through this? Do you want to save your marriage? Is it the right thing for you to stay if that trust has been broken? Can that trust be repaired? Do you want it to be? Those are questions you have to ask yourself. I didn’t. I pushed all that stuff away and just stayed in my situation because I was too afraid to face life on my own.” She dropped a kiss to her friend’s forehead. “You’ve always been stronger than me. You’ve got this, and I’ve got you.”

“It’s Vicky Sims.” Heather looked up at her. “Can you believe it?”

Elise tried not to show her surprise, but she wasn’t sure she’d been successful. Vicky Sims. A twenty-four-year-old daughter of a girl they’d gone to high school with. A girl Reg had hired to do some office work the summer before. A girl half his age.

“I don’t know what hurts more,” Heather said slowly. “The fact that he’s having an affair. That he’s cheating on me.” She blew out a long breath and looked so damn forlorn, Elise’s heart ached even more. Heather picked at the edge of her sweater. “Or that fact that he’s such a damn cliché.”

“We’re not going to think about Reg or the kids or Vicky Sims. You’re going to be selfish for this one time, and I’m going to help you do it. We’re going to drink copious amounts of wine and watch The Breakfast Club and maybe Grease and sing and dance and act silly.”

“I really should go home,” Heather replied, though Elise was already at the wine fridge.

“Red or white?”

A heartbeat passed.

“Red.”

Elise reached for the expensive Pinot Noir David had given her the week before. “Red it is.”

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