Page 66 of Brain Damage

BEFORE

My hand is still on the gun. Clark’s eyes are pinned on it, as if he’s afraid if he averts his gaze for even a moment, I’ll pick it up and murder him with it. Which I might.

“Can we just…” He takes a shaky breath. “Can we put the gun away? Please?”

My fingers close and tighten around the pistol. “No, Clark,” I say. “No, I don’t think we can.”

“So what are you going to do?” He shakes his head at me. “Are you going to shoot me? For Christ’s sake, Charlotte, I made one mistake. That’s it. You’re going to kill me over one mistake?”

Clark is looking at me with those Pacific blue eyes. Would I really shoot him? No, of course I wouldn’t. That would be crazy.

Of course, I’m kind of drunk right now. And definitely a little more than angry.

But no, I wouldn’t shoot him.

“Please put the gun away, Charlotte,” he begs me. “Please, honey. Put it away and I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

There’s a voice in my head screaming not to put the gun away, to hold it tight in my hand and not let it go. But the sensible, sober part of me knows that I can’t have a reasonable conversation with my husband while I’m threatening him with a pistol. So I take the gun and slide it back into the drawer.

Clark watches me. When the drawer snaps shut, his shoulders sag, and he sinks down onto the sofa. He buries his face in his fists, and I can see that he’s shaking.

“Charlotte,” he murmurs. “Charlotte, I’m so sorry…”

He lifts his face, and his eyes are wet. Is he crying? Is that bastard crying? How come he’s the one crying when I’m the one who got cheated on? This is such bullshit.

I fold my arms across my chest. “You’re sorry? Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

Clark rubs his face with his hands. He gives me this pathetic look, and I have to admit, my heartstrings get tugged ever so slightly. “Charlotte, you’re never home. I got lonely.”

“So that’s your excuse for messing around behind my back?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “There’s no excuse. I made a horrible mistake. I don’t blame you if you hate me.”

Damn. He is really taking the wind out of my anger.

“Do you hate me?” he asks, in this soft, sad voice.

I don’t know what to say. Do I hate him? An hour ago, I might’ve said yes. But at this moment? I don’t know. I guess not.

I definitely don’t feel like blowing his brains out anymore.

“It’s over,” he says firmly. “I swear to you, it’s over. It’s been over for the last few days. I couldn’t take it anymore. I hated myself. I felt like the worst guy in the whole world.”

I want it to be true. I want it to be true so badly. I don’t want a divorce. I want to stay with Clark.

God, I don’t know what to believe anymore.

“My new practice is stressing me out,” Clark says. “I know that’s not an excuse, but… I need to take a break from it all.” He smiles up at me, a little tentatively. “I was just thinking that what I’d really like is… is to start trying for a baby.”

I stare at him. “A what?”

“A baby.” He gives me a hopeful little smile. “I want to have a baby with you. I’m ready to be a dad. I’m sick of waiting.”

He’s playing me. He must be. He’s saying all the things I want to hear. He knows how much I want a baby right now, and he knows his only chance of being forgiven is to give me the thing I want the most. I know exactly what he’s doing and I’m far too smart to fall for this.

At least, I hope I am.

“Aren’t you sick of waiting too, Charlotte?” he asks.