Page 75 of Pure Abandon

Our bedroom is empty, the bed is made, and the light is turned off. I turn to his dresser and start rummaging through his things—pants, sweaters, shirts, everything—trying to find a clue, any clue. Isn’t this what they do in the movies, go through the husband’s things after suspicions of an affair? But to look for what? What am I looking for? More underwear? I don’t know.

I virtually spray the room with Gabriel’s clothes, pulling pant pockets inside out and finding nothing, before heading to his closet. Suits! In the movies, the wife always finds an incriminating receipt in their husband’s suit jacket.

One by one, I inspect his suits—inside the chest pocket, the inside pocket, the pants—but I find nothing.

Putting my hand on my forehead, I try to get my bearings. What am I looking for? What can I look in next?

The dirty clothes!

Running into the bathroom, I dump the hamper upside down, digging through its contents. I even smell each shirt, looking for a sign of perfume, and inspect the collars for lipstick stains, anything.

My breath quickens. My heart is leaping out of chest. I’m anxious and nervous for what I might find. Do I want to find something? Is this what I suspected all along?

As I inspect the last shirt to find… nothing, my body gives way and collapses on the floor. The tears discharge and fall down my face. I cry big, heavy, ugly tears. My breath hitches and my nose runs. I rub my face with my shirtsleeve and try to pace myself. The release is refreshing as I finally begin to catch my breath.

What has happened to my life? Where did we go wrong? I stop and lift my head to peek into the bedroom to take a look at the warpath I’ve left behind. Clothing on the bed, dresser, across lamps, and on the floor. It looks like a mental ward.

I’m going insane. That’s it. I have officially lost my mind. Maybe I made up finding the thong in the car. It was really there, wasn’t it?

My head in my hands, I sob and release weeks of frustration and disappointment. Hell, I’m releasing two years of frustration and disappointment. What happened to us? What happened to the young couple that met on a stairwell and couldn’t resist the passion they ignited in each other? What happened to the young couple that promised forever and dreams to each other on a sailboat?

Well, one is crying on the bathroom floor, and the other is on a plane to Chicago.

I lie on the bathroom floor for what feels like forever. I lift my head and see the sun is threatening to make an appearance. After my sobfest, I feel weak and numb. Slowly, I retrieve myself from the floor and mechanically pick up each piece of laundry from the bathroom floor and place it in the hamper. Next, I move into the bedroom and carefully place every article of clothing back in its respected drawer or hanger, exactly as I left it.

Looking in the mirror, I can see but a shadow of myself. Eyes puffy and splotchy. My hair is a mess. I’m exhausted, but I can’t stay home. I can’t stay in this room. There is only one place I can go. After a quick shower, I throw on a new skirt suit and head out the door.

The morning’s events have left me distracted. Gabriel is seeing someone else? As much of a confirmation I have in the form of sexy underwear, I can’t help but wonder how the hell this happened. If you asked me a week ago if I thought Gabriel was capable of cheating, I would have told you no. There’s no way.

God, I’m so naïve. Even Malory saw the writing on the wall, but I kept pushing it to the side. It was easy to. Gabriel is the most dedicated husband and father I have ever met. His parents have been together for forty years, and he always said he wanted to grow old together just like them. No, this is not my Gabriel. The man I’ve been with for ten years. The only man I’ve ever been with.

Could that be the problem? Am I boring in bed? Have I become unattractive since having the baby? When Gabriel and I met, he loved my inexperience. He indulged in teaching me how to love my body and use it for pleasure. We spent the first years wrapped in each other, all arms and legs and wet kisses. No matter where we were, we found a place to escape to be alone.

But then what happened? Life happened. Gabriel started spending more time at the office than he did at home. I found myself traveling for work and going out for dinners with colleagues when he wasn’t around.

And then Jackson came and romance went out the window. Quickies were the new norm. Both with conversation and in the bedroom. But was it enough to drive him into the arms of another woman? I was available. I would have responded.

Maybe he doesn’t want to be with me anymore. Especially the last few weeks, I’ve been distracted with work and… Asher. No, that has nothing to do with it. No matter how attracted I may be to my boss, that is where it ends. I would never… ever do anything to jeopardize my marriage.

Would I feel the same way if Gabriel had a little crush? I know the answer. I would be furious. But it’s different. Women have more control than men do. Don’t we?

And now Gabriel is in Chicago, doing God knows what. The thought leaves me feeling ill. I’ve never heard him speak of another woman. Who could he have met when he wasn’t working? It has to be someone at work. Some beautiful, smart someone who doesn’t have a post-baby body, and now her lace panties are sitting in my car. My beautiful husband’s car.

Oh, Gabe, what mess have we made of our marriage? Only five years in and infidelity casts her ugly head. I feel like I’m sitting in a fog.

“Lost in thought?” Asher startles me, awakening me from my daze. I realize I’ve been absentminded tapping my pen on the desk. How long have I been absent?

“You look upset.”

He’s the last person I want to see right now. My head is clouded with my husband’s lack of desire for me. The last thing I need is to talk to Mr. I-have-absolutely-no-interest-in-you Asher. Just looking at him in his herringbone suit and pale-green tie, I’m reminded once again that I am not one of his beautiful models.

“Gray, what’s wrong?” His eyes widen with concern.

I can’t tell him about Gabriel. It’s so embarrassing. He’ll probably sympathize with him too. Men will be men, and no one knows that better than Alexander Asher, the male whore.

“I’m fine. I have a lot on my plate.”

Asher looks genuinely concerned. “If it’s work, I can get you help.”