"What's wrong?" Tom asks."I don't know. It doesn't sound like the battery. I hope it's not the transmission.""Here, hop out and let me try. I'm not great with cars, but I might be able to tell you if we'll be able to adjust something for a quick fix tonight."We switch spots and he tries again to get my car to work. After a few minutes, he turns to me. "I think you may have to call a tow truck in the morning. That's definitely not the battery.""Shit," I grumble under my breath. "Is there anyone you can call to come pick you up?"For a minute, I run through the list of people. Marcus and Santos are pretty much it. Marcus, of course, has the kids, and Santos… well, I need to not call Santos. He's not in my life anymore as a partner, so I need to not turn to him the very first time I run into a problem."There's really not. I can take a cab, but I just live ten minutes from here. Do you think you could drop me off? I wouldn't normally ask, but…""No, no! It's fine. I was going to offe
It's been two weeks since I saw her outside the apartment with that guy. That guy she was on a date with. Thinking about it still makes me feel like there's an animal clawing at my chest. It hurts so badly to know she was out with another man. The shit of it all is it may have been the first time I actually understood the kind of hurt I made her feel. I always knew how badly I had damaged her, but I never really had anything to compare it to. I guess I couldn't really fathom how it made her feel.I can fathom it now, and it's awful.I went home that night and cried. No, that's not right. I wept. Like a fucking baby. I wept for the loss of my wife. I wept for the loss of my children. I wept for the loss of the life I loved. In a weird way, I wept for the loss of myself. I don't know why it didn't occur to me that I was living a weird double life. What is wrong with me that I could so easily push down the guilt every time I did it? I don't even know where to begin with fixing it, and th
I can't believe I agreed to this.That mantra keeps running through my head.The day after Santos basically stopped our divorce proceedings so we could make one last ditch effort at our marriage, he had everything set up: time off work, reservations to the conference, hotel room. The only thing I had to do was convince my mother to come stay with the kids.She wasn't happy about why she was staying with them, but she pretended to overlook it so she could have some uninterrupted grandma time.When we got here, I was surprised to see how many people were also trying to save their marriage. I guess with fifty percent of all marriages ending this way, it shouldn't have been so jarring. But it was. It was horrible to see how many of us are trying make these life-altering decisions, and many of us with children. In a weird way, though, I guess it made me not feel so alone. Misery does love company, I suppose.But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when Darryl, that's the name of
I stare at him in disbelief. For the first time, the depth of his infidelity is sinking in. This wasn't just getting caught up in the moment at parties. This was serial cheating. Like he had a whole different life I never even knew about."Mariana." I look up as Anne addresses me. "I can see you're feeling a lot of different emotions right now. Can you tell me what you're feeling?"I shake my head. "I don't even know what I'm feeling right now. I'm so… I'm so pissed. How could you do that to me? To us?"Santos flinches, but it's Anne who addresses me again. "What else are you feeling, Mariana? I know you're angry. What else?""I…" My brain spins out of control and it's taking a lot of effort to figure out how to answer her questions. "Humiliated. He didn't just get bored and lonely. He was never faithful from the beginning." I turn to look at him again. "You weren't, were you? You have never been faithful to me, have you? I was never enough, was I?"His eyes snap up to mine and he star
I don't know why I agreed to this. I mean, I know why I agreed to it. But if it weren't for the fact that it is my last chance at getting my family back, I wouldn't even bother.Group therapy is hard fucking work. "Okay guys, we're going to do an exercise that will help us work on our communication skills," Anne informs us, as we all take our seats. "Santos, Mariana, I'd like you guys to pull your chairs into the middle and face them toward each other. I grab both our chairs and pull them into the circle."I can do that myself, ya know," Mari mutters."I know. I'm trying to be polite."She doesn't respond, just pulls her chair a couple of feet from mine before taking her seat. Once we're situated, Anne gives us more instructions. "We're going to take turns with this exercise, so before you jump in and say anything, just answer the questions I ask, okay?" When she's satisfied we're going to do as she says, she continues."You both have expressed that you had a very satisfying marriage
Her words shock me. I grab her arms, stopping her assault. "You think I find you repulsive?" I try to look her in the eyes, but she's crying so hard, she can't even open them. "You are the most beautiful, perfect thing in my life, Mari. You deserve more than dirty sex just so I can calm down after a game.""That is a fucking cop-out!" She pulls out of my arms and backs away like she's afraid of me. "I'm your fucking wife, Santos. You think sex in a marriage is only about love? It's also about orgasms and pleasure and fun. Do you know how many times I dreamed you'd bend me over the couch and fuck me like one of your dirty whores?"I reel back. "You didn't, did you? Because you needed justification for your own fucking behavior." She gets in my face. "Let me ask you a question, after we started dating in college, were you already cheating on me during away games?"I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. "That's what I thought. You're not sorry for doing it; you're sorry you go
The beeping of the waffle maker jars me out of my thoughts.The free breakfast at the hotel barely opened half an hour ago, but I was already up. After yesterday's session on communication, sleeping is ridiculously difficult to do.I can't stop thinking about what Santos said. You will never hate me more than I hate myself. I want to be happy that he's living with such tremendous guilt. This whole thing is his fault. But I can't. I had no idea he was grieving as much as I am. He's not one to show he's in any kind of pain often. Not physical pain. Not emotional pain. He's too busy being everybody's friend to be honest when his feelings are that intense.And he never, ever cries. Needless to say, seeing him weep the way he did pulled me right out of my pity party and back into the real world, full of questions about what I should do now. Do I stay? Do I go? Do I give him another chance? Do I call it quits?The only thing I know for sure is I need carbs. And sugar. And butter. And maybe s
The click of the door closing behind us sounds unusually loud compared to the silence between us. It was another hard day of therapy, and we're both emotionally spent.Anne had us all write a letter to our spouse and then read it to each other. In the letter, we had to apologize for our part in the downfall of our relationship. Then we had to outline what we're going to do different from now on, and how. The hardest part, though… the hardest part was having to write what behaviors I will and won't accept from Mari.That one pretty much stumped me. It would be one thing if she was anything other than perfect. The only thing that I could come up with is I want her to focus on herself more. Her entire life has been about giving, and I want her to allow herself to receive more. To accept compliments and believe me when I say she's beautiful. She struggles with that. She always has. And I made it substantially worse."Um, I'm gonna jump in the shower." She takes off her shoes and slips her
The snick of the lock unlatching when I wave my key fob in front of the door is the first real sign that life is going back to normal. Well, as normal as life can be after a new little human has come into the world. But as I step through the door and into the newsroom, I realize nothing has changed. The scanners are still squawking. Reporters are still making calls and typing. Televisions still glow with every local station and CNN ready to be monitored. The only difference is the person at the assignment desk."Hi Tom," I greet as I grab a huge stack of mail I'll need to sort through upstairs. There's too much to go through down here."Tiffany." He tips his head at me and goes back to his business. Tom took over for Caleb when he moved upstairs. He's a little older than everyone else in the newsroom. His hair and neatly trimmed beard are almost gray. He's pleasant enough, just sticks to himself. We definitely don't have the same kind of rapport Caleb and I use to have.That also mean
Rowen makes sure we're all settled before kissing me on the top of the head and throwing on his sweats. "What do you want to eat? My mam brought bangers and mash.""I'll leave that for you," I joke, knowing it's his favorite. "But do we still have any of that grilled chicken salad? I don't know why but it sounds really good.""Yep. I'll go grab it for you."The last three months have been an adjustment, but overall, it's gone really well. Cace is a great baby, but I didn't expect anything less with him being Rowen's child. Well, that's not exactly true. A part of me always remembered Ryan is his grandfather, so I know there's some ornery in there waiting to come out. But for the most part, he's very docile. Cries when he's hungry, fusses when he's wet, but otherwise even-tempered. And my in-laws have been wonderful. Sure, the men argue all the time about the safest way to hold the baby or the best cleaning products. Denise and I just laugh at the ridiculousness and let them hash it ou
"Keep doing that," I moan, grabbing Rowen's hair and pulling him closer to my core. His tongue still does magical things to my lady parts and today, he's going to town. Licking, nipping, and sucking as he inserts two fingers inside me, hitting just the right spot. "Oh, that's it. Right there… ohgod…"My orgasm hits me fast and hard, just the way I like it these days. He continues to suck on my clit as the waves overtake me, riding me to that sated feeling I love. But he's not done yet.As soon as I've come back down to earth, he kisses up my body, paying special attention to the scar that now mars my abdomen. When I look at my stomach, I see flabby skin that hasn't tightened up yet and a knife wound. But Rowen tells me it's beautiful. That it's a reminder of the sacrifice I made to give him the best gift he's ever received - our son. Coming from anyone else, I'd say they were full of shit. But coming from Rowen, I know he means every word. Because of it, I still feel beautiful. It al
"I know you'll be here when you can, Mom," I say through FaceTime on my phone. "Really, all we're going to do for the next few weeks is sleep and eat anyway. Maybe bathe."Stroking the top of my son's head, I watch as he suckles on my breast. Yes, the dull pain of breastfeeding is there, but that doesn't take away the surreal feeling of being a new mom. It's amazing."I know." My mom sighs. "I'm just mad at myself. Of all the times to fall down some steps and break an ankle, this is the worst."I giggle lightly. "I still can't believe you did it at the gym.""And right after my kickboxing class too! I had just shown everyone what a badass I am, and three steps took me out.""Any muggers with ill intentions better beware of running into you in a back alley. Unless there are stairs involved." "Well, hopefully in the next few weeks, the doctor will clear me for travel. Then I'll be on the first plane there.""Sounds good to me." Baby Cace squeaks and pulls away from my breast, nuzzling h
The thoughts are overwhelming. I've never been this happy in my life, and I've only seen him for a split second. Lifting my head, I look around trying to catch another glimpse. Apparently, I'm not as subtle as I think I am."Would you like to see your son? You can go over there."Nodding, I stand up and follow the person over to a small table where my son is lying down, clearly unhappy by being poked and prodded. I don't blame him. I wouldn't like if all my glory was on display in front of these strangers either."Can I… can I touch him?" I ask tentatively, not sure what I'm allowed to do right now."Absolutely," the person says. "And talk to him. Babies like familiar voices."Slowly, I get closer, still in awe that I'm looking at my son. My son. It feels like I'm walking through a dream. Reaching down, I touch his tiny hand which immediately stretches and grabs my finger. The contact makes me suck in a breath. He's real. This is real. It's not a dream at all."Hello there, mo mhac. I'
I have dreamed about this day for months. Thought about every scenario on how it could happen. Planned for any situation. Prepared myself in every possible way.Except this one.Not one part of me anticipated I'd be standing in the hallway of the hospital wearing drab green scrubs with a matching surgical cap, waiting to join my wife in an operating room. And yet here I am, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't more nervous than I've ever been in my life.It's not just the operation. Yes, that is my immediate concern. As much as I like Dr. Hermann, he's getting ready to cut Tiffany open and pull our son out through a gaping wound. I'm sure there's more to it than that, but it basically boils down to that, and it's scary. What if he cuts the wrong part and he can't stop the bleeding? What if he accidentally cuts my child? What if she gets a major infection? The horrific possibilities are terrifying.Taking a breath to refocus my thoughts, I try to remember all the positives. Tiffany won't
I can practically feel his surprise when he shifts, situating us face-to-face. Thankfully, my doctor and my father-in-law have started chatting again, so Rowen and I can have some privacy. "Tiffany, this is just a change in the play. You of all people know how easily it can happen. I know this isn't soccer, but it's not that different. We go into every match with a plan, but sometimes it doesn't go like we expected. There's an injury or a new goalie." I smirk at his reference to the issues the team had early in the season. "The objective is always the same, but how we get there doesn't matter as long as we do. It's the same thing here. It doesn't matter how he gets here as much as it matters that it happens safely for both of you."I sniff again, but my tears have all but dried up. "We've been deflected."He nods and smiles at me. "Exactly. It's a change of play. But in the end, when we're holding him and taking care of him, we'll forget about everything except that we won."I chuckle
A low murmuring pulls me from sleep. I know it's only been a couple hours, but I feel so much better than I did. Damn that epidural for being as amazing as everyone said it would be.Peeling my eyes open, I roll slightly onto my back to see Dr. Hermann and Ryan chatting like old friends. A few seconds of eavesdropping and I finally catch the source of their newfound connection - Ireland. Apparently, Dr. Hermann spent a summer backpacking through Europe and caught a couple games when Ryan was in his prime and playing in front of his hometown fans. I'm sure the tales are tall right now, but at least their relaxed chatter means nothing wrong is happening on my side of the room.Glancing around, I finally catch sight of my husband who is sleeping soundly. I'm glad to see him getting some rest. He's been trying so hard to be strong for me. It's not gone unnoticed. But at last count he'd been awake for thirty hours. It was wearing on him."Ah, iníon sa dlí, yer awake."Ryan steps toward me a
Another eight hours. Another one centimeter dilated. Almost. I may be rounding up out of my own feeling of desperation. This entire experience is not at all like I expected. Not that I knew what was supposed to happen. Sure, we'd taken a birthing class one Saturday, but that was months ago when our schedules allowed us both to be there. And it never told us what would happen if Tiffany's body refused to do what it should. At least Tiffany's sleeping now. About four hours after the Pitocin began, she started crying, saying she couldn't do it anymore. She'd been awake for almost twenty-four hours and had been in some form of labor for over half of it. Plus, once the drugs kicked in, her contractions went from being painful to downright excruciating. It didn't take much convincing for her to finally decide to have the epidural. But it did take my Mam physically moving me out of the way to help her through all her fears - fear of a needle in her spine, fear of the drugs hurting the baby,