The Space Between Promises by Rachel L. Jeffers Read Free Book Online Page A

will stay with Finn." I begged him to stay, kneeling at his feet, thinking only of Maggie and Sam. I refused to accept that our marriage was over, and he made no promises. He remained, as I knew he would, but when I asked if he still loved me, his answer was, "I don't know," and from those three simple words, I never quite recovered.
     
    ***

It would be the first of many secrets I would keep from Gregory, and not the first that he would discover. During those horrific months, I lost all feeling as a woman. There were no adoring touches, no compliments, and no love-making. There was the occasional, emotionally disconnected consummation, which generally ended with unbidden tears that were quickly wiped so he would not discover them. The only thing worse in my estimation than being crushed by the one you love, is that person knowing that they have succeeded.
 
    It was my sheer stubbornness and will to survive his battering that gave me strength to pretend that I felt nothing. And some times, what frightened me was that I didn't have to pretend at all. Sometimes I felt nothing. And in a way, I guess I was grateful.

Loneliness is quiet enemy. It first wraps you in a deceptive shroud of self-pity, which is an ointment to the wound. Then, it blankets your mind with endless possibilities, giving you a sense of false freedom to pursue them. And finally, it girds you with a heightened sense of courage, layered with justification to act on the very thing you have concocted to do. This is how I came to search out Nate.

He was in fact, merely a click away on any given search engine, but it had been years since I had imagined who he turned out to be. I had known he was married, as there had been a brief time over e-mail that we connected and shared the knowledge of our newly-married status. I was told that she knew who I was and that he and I had communicated, proving to me what a marvelous and faithful husband he was, apparently. But since that time, the children came and I had been at the business of family and love.

Heavy loneliness consumed me and when Maggie was in for her nap, and the house was quiet, I sought him out. I considered messaging him, but to what end? My marriage was a wreck, and the picture of him hugging two small children led me to believe that his was not. I stared at the picture for a long time, wondering how it is that some people find happiness and others do not. And deciding that attempting contact was both an embarrassing and exceedingly poor idea, I abandoned all thought of it, giving Loneliness a good, swift kick. Beating it back, one moral battering at a time.

Oddly, my innocence was misconstrued as absolute proof of guilt when Gregory happened upon the recent search on the computer. He would have no reason to believe me, after all, given I had essentially stolen ten thousand dollars of his credit and by omission, lied about it every single day for two years. He was sitting in his recliner, staring straight ahead when I entered the living room.

"What's wrong?" I ask innocently, the grave suspicion that he has discovered yesterday's indiscretion sinking into the pit of my stomach. "Think about it. You're a smart woman," was his passive response. How typical. When I am the one to confront, direct, to the point, no room for gray. Not Gregory. He loves the game, the agony and mental anguish that come from guessing which one of your crimes he has discovered and what your punishment might be. And if he is especially lucky, you might admit to the wrong crime and it's a bonus for him. Two punishments, two excuses to spend more time at Finn's, two reasons to feed the growing anger inside him.

I refuse to play. "Well, I have no idea what you are talking about," I respond flippantly as I turn on my heels. "Don't you?" is his casual reply. I ignore it, and leave the room, steadying my shaking hands by wiping down the kitchen counter, busying myself in the kitchen.
    This would go on for a few days, neither