I look away and turn my brain off because I can’t bear to hear the words, let alone say them. “I hit Kai. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.” My body is shaking, not in fear, but self-loathing. I’m preparing myself for the onslaught of rage.
He leans over and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and I watch his fingers curl into fists that look like they could punch through steel. His right heel is vibrating up and down like a jackhammer, ferocious and destructive. Quicker than I’ve seen him move in years, he leaps from his seat and strides roughly on a grave limp to the other side of the room. When he stops, his back is to me. He looks larger than his six foot four inches, filling up the other half of the room with his presence. Hands on hips, head dropped back so he’s peering at the ceiling, I watch his posture stiffen into something I’ve never seen before. He’s preparing for a fight.
Let me have it, Seamus, I think to myself. The kids are sleeping; say everything you’ve kept bottled up for years. It’s time. I deserve it.
He doesn’t hesitate and spins on his heel. Eyes blazing, he thrusts an accusatory finger at me. “You. Fucking. Bitch.” It’s a low, growling whisper.
I don’t respond. The truth pierces my nonexistent armor, and I let it wound me, breach my skin, muscle, and bone.
“Were you sent straight from hell to destroy my life, Miranda? Because that’s how it feels. Years upon years of destruction.” He’s spitting the words at me through barely moving lips and gritted teeth. “Is there anything you’d like to say before I continue because shit’s about to get real? Buckle up.”
“I love you.” It isn’t filler, it’s the prologue to the horror story that’s about to unfold. It’s my one ultimate truth.
For a fraction of a second he just stares at me; it’s outrage. “You don’t know how to love, Miranda.” His words are biting, bitterness and anger, a vicious pair.
Regret is leaking from my eyes and dripping on my folded hands in my lap. A year ago I called him broken. He’s not. I am. Always have been.
He shakes his head and takes a deep breath before he stabs me again. “You killed my baby. Without even telling me, before, during, or after, you killed my baby.” His voice cracks. “Why? Why didn’t I get a say?” He’s trying to hold his outburst to a whisper, but it’s strained. The veins in his neck are bulging with effort. “Why?” His lips don’t move when he says it. His words pry my ribcage open to get at the heart of me.
“I’m sorry, Seamus.” I have no idea how he knows about the abortion, and I don’t bother to deny as he delivers his truth.
He takes three steps toward me, leans forward and spews more truth, “Sorry doesn’t resurrect what could have been. Sorry does fuck all to right your wrongs.”
The tears continue as I welcome his hellfire.
He retreats a few steps and takes a seat putting needed distance between us again. His hostile glare is frightening, not because I fear him, but because I know I created this fury inside this gentle man. “How many affairs were there aside from Loren? While I was sitting at home blindly loving and trusting my wife, how many men were sticking their dick in her?”
Shame, it hits me like a wrecking ball. “Dozens,” I answer honestly. The time for hiding is over. The admission is humiliating.
His eyes widen, and his mouth drops open. “Dozens?” he questions.
My head weighs five hundred pounds when I nod. “Dozens,” I confirm.
Mouth still agape in shock, his head drops back and his eyes go to the ceiling, probably to avoid having to look at me. “Jesus fucking Christ. Dozens,” he repeats to himself. “I’m so fucking stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Seamus. You were a good husband. I was a shit wife. That’s not your fault; it’s mine. You deserved better. From the start, you deserved better. I’m just not equipped for better.” I wipe my running nose with the back of my hand, the tears still flowing freely.
He runs his hands through his hair before his chin drops to his chest. “Did you feel remorse? When you were fucking them did guilt ever cross your mind?”
More honesty. I shake my head and feel my face scrunch up as a fresh round of regret and emotion batter me. “No, not at the time.”
He huffs like the wind’s been knocked out of him.
“But now? I’d give anything to go back to the first day we met. I’d give anything to be a different person then. I’d give anything to have been able to love you the way you loved me.” My words are shaky and tear stained.
His watery eyes fill quickly and spill onto his cheeks in a silent display, and I know that he knows my secret. “Were you ever going to tell me about Kira?”
I’m not even shocked that he knows. I’m relieved I didn’t have to drop the bombshell on him. “No.” It’s a single syllable delivered on an exhalation of air, all emotion, lacking enunciation.
Hate and hurt are uncorked. Again. His face pinches in with heartache. “You bitch. Kira isn’t a pawn in your fucked up games. She’s a child. She’s my child.” His hissing whispers assault me.
It makes my throat tighten. I swallow hard against it. “I know.”