“No. We’re not there yet.” He shakes his head. “I’m not gonna let you do this to us.”
“We are so there! We’re right fucking there. Troy, this isn’t a marriage anymore. It’s a hostage crisis!”
“God, you are so overdramatic! I can’t believe I thought I could have a calm, rational conversation with you about this. You’re chaotic—”
“And you’re transparent,” I counter. “You think I don’t know what this is about—”
“This is about you being a frigid workaholic. You pushed me away, Tess. You gave up on us, and you blame me for seeking comfort in someone else’s arms? I couldn’t live in the shadow of your indifference. You never put me first. So yes, I put me first, Tess,” he shouts, jabbing a thumb at his chest. “Someone had to.”
His words hit me like a slap, and I reel back. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“It’s true, and you know it,” he replies. “Even if you won’t ever admit it.”
“I did put you first, Troy. I always only ever put you first. I sacrificed everything for you—”
“And what did that earn me except your shitty resentment?” he says, leveling a finger in my face.
I lean away, eyes wide. I’m trapped between him and the desk, the edge of it biting into the curve of my hip.
“You don’t get to play the martyr and make me the villain,” he says. “I didn’t ask you to pick my law school or work for my family firm or fucking smother me—”
“Well, did I smother you, or was I indifferent?” I challenge.
He turns away, cursing under his breath.
“You can’t have it both ways, Troy,” I call at his back. “Did I put you first or last? Or do you even know? Did you even notice me until I was gone? No, you were too busy with your golf weekends and your client dinners and your girlfriends—”
“Don’t turn this around on me. You always do that. You spin my words and make me the asshole. I’m not the asshole, Tess. I’m not the cheater—”
“You cheated, Troy. You were married to me and fucking other people without my knowledge or consent. That makes you the literal definition of a cheater.” It’s my tone that surprises me. So detached.
I’m numb.
Broken.
Done.
“Christ, I’ll never be enough for you, will I?” he says. “I’m always the disappointment. Always coming up short. You never respected me, Tess. Never loved me like I deserved.”
I close my eyes, trying to shut out his words. I can’t bear this feeling of being trapped in his presence, accepting his gaslighting revisionism of our entire ten-year relationship. “Please, just let me go,” I whisper. “Troy, please. I want a divorce.”
“And now you want to quit. Yeah, things are tough right now. But you know what? That’s real life, Tess. We’ve got problems to work through. But now you’re suddenly just done? I guess I don’t know what else I expected. Go ahead and run. That’s what you do best.” He points at the door, dismissing me from my own office. But I’m not sure if it’s a trick. I wouldn’t put it past him to chase me out and continue to make a scene in front of our colleagues.
“Are we really done here?”
He just glares at me.
“If we’re done, can you please leave?”
“You’re the one taking a leave of absence,” he needles. “Not me.”
Of course, he’s not taking a leave of absence. Because he gets to walk through life without ever feeling the negative consequences of his actions. Impervious to blame, immune to criticism. No, consequences are reserved for lesser mortals.
Mortals like me.
Holding the frayed strands of my dignity together, I turn away from him, slipping my tablet into my bag.
“Wait,” he says, his voice suddenly softer. He steps forward, his hand brushing my shoulder, and I go stiff. “Fuck, seriously?” He drops his hand away. “I can’t even fucking touch you without you flinching away? Am I such a monster to you now?”
He’s right up in my space, his large body inches from mine. He overwhelms me, the spicy scent of his aftershave mixed with his cologne. I know it so well. That scent signature is burrowed deep in my psyche. So masculine…
The connection has me sucking in a sharp breath as I piece it together.
Of course.
“It’s because he’s a man,” I say, not turning around. “Isn’t it?”
He goes still. “What are you talking about?”
Slowly I turn, my breast brushing his arm in our closeness. I gaze up at him, my hand clutching tight to the leather handle of my bag. “You’re torching my life now because Ryan Langley is a threat to your fragile masculinity. Hot young NHL star with stamina for days, making his millions, flashing that handsome smile—”
“There’s nothing fragile about my masculinity,” he snarls. “And I don’t care who you fuck.” He says the words, but his eyes give him away. There’s a fire there, embers burning hot. He’s jealous. He doesn’t want me; he’s made that crystal clear. It was clear even when we were still fucking. We were both so physically and emotionally checked out by the end.
Troy doesn’t want me. But he doesn’t want another man to have me either.
“I’ve had a string of lovers since we split,” I say. “You know about them all. Erica practically lived with me for half of last year. But since you, all my lovers have been women. You can dismiss a woman. She’s not a threat to you or your reputation. But one picture of me with Ryan, and now you’re setting my life on fire. Finally, you have some real competition…and an excuse to torch me.”
“You’re delusional. And you’re an utterly forgettable lay. I bet he struggled to get off. I know I always did.”
His cruel words can’t hurt me. I’m completely detached from my body, floating in space and time. And if my life is already up in smoke, why not fan the flames a little?
I nod, lips pursed. “Well…he didn’t seem to complain when I was deep throating him on my knees, choking on his cum. His dick is huge, by the way. My pussy still feels wrecked, and it’s been a week—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, his hand going to my throat.
My hand rises on instinct, wrapping around his wrist. Tears sting my eyes as he squeezes. “Troy—”
He presses me back against the desk. “Don’t say another word, you filthy fucking whore,” he orders, his lips almost brushing mine in his closeness. “I gave you everything. I pulled you up out of the gutter and gave you this life that you take for granted. You don’t deserve my love!”
I breathe through the pressure, holding his gaze. Slowly, I give his hand a squeeze. “Troy…”
“I said shut up! You make me fucking crazy when you won’t just shut up and listen to me!”
“Troy…honey, you’re choking me,” I rasp, a tear slipping down my cheek.
Slowly, I see the anger recede in his eyes as he traces a line down his own arm, ending at the hand on my throat. With a groan, he drops his hand away and steps back.
I gasp, holding in a sob as I grip to the desk, hand massaging my throat.
Don’t panic, I tell myself. Don’t let him see you panic.
Another tear falls as I watch him pace two steps back.
“Fuck, do you see how crazy you make me? You think I don’t love you, but this is what you do to me, Tess. You make me feel like a fucking monster, and I hate it.”
“This isn’t love, Troy.” I massage my throat, praying he didn’t leave a mark. “You don’t love me…and I don’t love you.”
“You can’t tell me how I feel—”
“This is possession,” I press, dropping my hand back to my side. “All we do is hurt each other, and it has to stop. We gave your mother her way, but enough is enough. Let me write up the papers. All you have to do is sign, and you can finally be free of me. Please, Troy—”