Page 29 of Marriage and the Midlife Crisis

“Mel, I –,” Ryan stopped and visibly swallowed, then rushed to say, “I swear to you, I didn’t touch her. It was a lap dance. Mitch paid for it, and I didn’t know anything about it until she climbed on my lap, and then I…”, his voice faltered, before he said quietly, “I stopped it before anything else happened.”

“Nice try, but that still doesn’t explain the underwear. Did you have to tip extra to keep them? I thought what happens in Vegas was supposed to stay in Vegas? Her thong did not stay in Vegas, Ryan. It came back with you like some kind of fucked up souvenir, and now it’s in our bedroom, in our home.”

My voice wavered on that last word, and I swallowed hard before biting out, “You brought the proof of your infidelity into our home, and you have the fucking nerve to stand there and lie to me about it. Fuck you, Ryan.”

I turned for the door, then threw one last barb over my shoulder.

“It makes it extra special that you cheated on Saturday, so you get bonus fuck-you points for that. You didn’t remember my birthday, but you still managed to give me a present I’ll never forget.”

Chapter 10

Ryan

My mind was completely shattered by everything Melanie had thrown at me, and it took a solid minute for the jab about her birthday to land.

Her birthday? I struggled to recall today’s date. January twelfth, which made Saturday…Melanie’s forty-first birthday. How the fuck had I managed to forget that?

My thoughts jumped to the thong, and I narrowed my gaze on it. I hadn’t recognized it at first but then realized that it was the only item of clothing the stripper on the platform – and later, on my lap – had been wearing Saturday night. I had no goddamned idea how it had ended up in my suitcase, but that mystery would have to be solved later. Right now, I had to make Melanie understand that I didn’t cheat. I had to make her believe me.

She wanted a divorce. The very thought of it nearly brought me to my knees. Even if it was just a knee-jerk reaction to the shock and anger over what she’d found, just hearing those words from her pierced my soul, leaving me bleeding out where I stood. I couldn’t even bear to imagine that she actually meant them.

“Melanie!” I shouted, finally getting my ass in gear to chase after her. I had just made it to the bottom of the stairs when I registered the sound of the overhead garage door opening. I sprinted through the kitchen and flung open the service door leading to the garage, just in time to spot Melanie’s SUV as it quickly reversed out of the driveway and took off down the road.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” I roared, staring in disbelief at the taillights until they disappeared when she turned left at the corner. I smacked the button on the wall to close the overhead door, then slammed back into the house. My thoughts were spiraling in dozens of directions at once before one thought shot to the forefront.

Call her. Get her to calm down and come home so we could talk about this. Once I could get her to listen, everything would be OK. She’d still be hurt about the strip club, but she wouldn’t be threatening divorce, for God’s sake.

“It’s too dangerous for her to be driving like this,” I muttered, yanking my phone from my pocket and pulling up her contact. My hands were shaking so much that it took me three tries to hit the right button, and I paced the length of the living room as I waited for her to pick up. After three rings, her voice came through the line.

“This is Melanie. Sorry I missed you but leave me a message and I’ll call you back.”

Dammit. I exhaled harshly, then jabbed the button to call her again. It went directly to her voicemail then, making it clear that she had turned her phone off.

I left a message anyway.

“Please come home. You shouldn’t be driving when you’re so upset. Just let me explain. Please, I’m begging you, sweetness. It’s not what you think.”

I tossed the phone on the couch, then dropped down onto the cushion as my legs threatened to give out on me. I looked around the room in a daze, and then my focus landed on a vase flowers setting on the coffee table.

I leaned forward to grab the car propped up against them, sighing heavily as I saw the message from the boys.

“Fuck,” I muttered. Our sons, loving but terribly self-absorbed in the way only teenaged boys can be, had remembered her birthday and gone to the effort of ordering flowers for her, while I’d forgotten the day completely.

I dropped my head to my chest, unable to believe I’d fucked up so badly.

Releasing a deep ragged sigh, I looked around the room and as I did, my gaze sharpened. Something was different, but I couldn’t figure out quite what it was. Then it came to me.

My suitcase.

It had been sitting at the bottom of the stairs when I got home ten minutes ago. I’d had to walk around it when I went upstairs.

It was gone now, which could only mean Melanie had taken it with her.

I vaulted to my feet and took the stairs two at a time before careening through our bedroom doorway. My chest heaved as I took in the room, which looked the same as it always did. My eyes skittered away from the sight of that damned thong on the floor and landed on the closet door which was slightly ajar.

I forced myself to walk over to it, every beat of my heart pounding in my ears. I reached out to nudge the door open and the sight of several empty hangers on Mel’s side had me staggering back and hanging on to the door for support.

I looked over my shoulder at the bathroom door, then crossed the room on wobbly legs to see what else she had packed.