Page 42 of One Week
He nods again.
“As far as the kids are concerned, we’re one big happy family.”
“Yes,” he says enthusiastically. “I completely agree.”
“There’s no reason your stupid whoring-around should affect them.”
He nods and stares down at the floor again. “You’re right.”
Silence fills the room once more. He seems hopeful, like it will all be okay. It might be. It might not. I just don’t know how this will all work out.
“Now is my turn to make a confession,” I start, and instantly, he perks up. Worry and concern line his brow, and the creases below his nose seem more pronounced.
“You’re not the only one who’s been unfaithful,” I say.
His mouth drops, and his face blanches. “What?!”
“Well, it was nothing like your affair,” I’m quick to explain. “I met this guy on Instagram a few months ago, in November, and we became friends, and we… we used to chat a lot.”
“Oh…” He lets out a breath. “That’s all. You’ve never met him in real life?”
I smile. “No, he lives in Copenhagen. That would be kinda tricky.”
He cocks a brow. “Did you ever sext?”
I shake my head. “Uh… no. Nothing like that.”
“Oh, so you were just friends?” he asks. “What happened?”
“Well, sort of,” I tell him. “I ended the friendship because I thought we were getting too close, and well, unlike you, I care about our marriage.”
He reaches for my hand. “I care too, Gabbie. I was just so fucking stupid… I was just being a man.”
I tear my hand away. “Don’t give me that ‘boys will be boys’ shit. Not all men cheat on their wives.”
“I know… I’m sorry,” he says, and after a beat. “So I guess, we’re square.”
What?!
“We’re not square! You’ve had an actual affair for five months, and I just chatted with some guy I’ve never even met a few times, and also, I ended the friendship. No, we’re not square!”
“So why are you telling me this?” he asks, confused. “Why tell me about it at all?”
I reach for my phone, and scroll through my photos. This is going to hurt him, but I want to destroy him. This photo is like a knife, and I plan to stick it right into his heart. I click on my favorite photo of Eli, the one with his dog, the one where you can see how amazing his eyes are, how sweet his smile is, and the tattoo covering his arm. The one where he looks like a freakin’ model.
I show him the photo. “This is Eli.”
His face falls. I got him right in the heart. He must feel exactly the same way I felt when I saw those Instagram photos – absolutely crushed. I feel vindicated, but I also feel sorry that it’s come to this. I’m playing a wicked game, and it’s bound to hurt every single one of us. But I tell myself that he’s the one who started it.
He turns to me, and the pain in his eyes catches me off guard. “You’re not friends anymore?” he asks, wanting to confirm that Eli is no longer in my life.
“No,” I tell him. “I ended the friendship a few weeks ago.”
His face visibly lights up.
“But…” I go on. “I haven’t stopped thinking about him,” I confess. “I was never going to contact him again, but now…”
“Now what?!” John scoffs.
