Finding Bliss (24 page)

About halfway through the pile, I found the Visa statements. I scrutinized every charge. Starbucks, Shell, Home Depot: nothing seemed out of the ordinary for him until I turned the page and saw RedEnvelope. I rifled through the stack and found charges for lingerie, flowers, candles, a watch, and more. He’d spent nearly $2,000 on gifts for her over a three-month period. I sat on the floor and shook my head. He wasn’t just sleeping with this idiot, he was courting her,
dating
her. My husband was dating someone else. I dropped the papers and wrapped my arms around my baby. I knew it was more than I could bear, but I couldn’t stop. I went to the phone and dialed his voice mail. It took me only two tries to guess his password: 1-0-1-4, our address. What I sat through next was probably the hardest to endure. There were two new messages from a woman with a Southern drawl—just like his mother, I couldn’t help but note.

“Hey babe, it’s me, where are you? I just missed your call. I’m on my way to my mom’s; call me back.”

“Where are you? Call me, so I know what time we’re meeting, ’kay?”

After replaying them several times, I deleted the messages. Clearly, I had some decisions to make, and a more detailed conversation with Tyler was inevitable. I wanted answers, and I was owed
answers, but I wanted them on my terms. I paced the entire first floor of the house while my brain ping-ponged back and forth between wanting to cry and wanting to bury him. I needed to do something or talk to someone, but I was too humiliated to call anyone. Who was I going to call, my mother? The mere thought of breaking this news to her brought me to tears again. Everyone who was close to me knew nearly every detail of what Tyler and I had gone through, not only to be together but also to become parents. Even some of my clients knew about my fertility treatments because there had been times I’d had to cancel meetings or phone calls to rush in and have my ovaries checked. It had gotten to the point where being honest with people around me became easier than trying to pretend I had some mystery disease that kept my physician on speed dial.

Tyler didn’t come home after work that day. The next morning I called a locksmith and had the locks changed. He certainly wasn’t going to be allowed to come and go anymore as he pleased. He never called me to deny anything, nor did he bang on the front door pleading to talk with me and work things out, so I spent the entire weekend curled up in a ball under my covers. I ignored all calls and texts and never opened my laptop. The smell of food was repellent, so I drank water and forced myself to eat pretzels for the baby. I cried, I ached, I anguished. But mostly I sat in my quiet bedroom in a numb state of disbelief. I played every scenario over and over in my head and couldn’t come up with how we had gotten to this point or where to go from here.

The deposition on Monday for Kimberly James required a commanding performance, so Sunday night I managed a shower and checked my phone. Thirty missed calls from Grace, Rachel, Robert, Cam, my mother, and various clients. Ninety-eight e-mails, forty-five text messages, and fourteen voice mails. None of them from Tyler.

Monday morning I walked into the office and waved at Rachel. She quickly stood up when she saw me.

“Hey, you okay? I tried to reach you all weekend. I was worried when you didn’t come in Friday,” Rachel said as I shuffled past her desk in a fog.

“It was a long weekend,” I said. She followed me into my office.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay with the baby?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes, but not right now,” I said.

“Gotcha. Did you get the message that the deposition was canceled?”

“No, but that’s good news.”

“I believe there was an issue with Kimberly and her husband over the weekend. She left you a voice mail, I think.”

“Okay, I’ll check them now.”

Rachel left while I went through the motions of being normal. I did everything I usually did. I placed my tote bag on the floor next to my chair and removed my laptop from it. I carefully pulled the white plastic lid off my Starbucks venti skim latte so that I didn’t have to drink hot coffee through that unforgiving little hole. I powered up my computer and let my e-mails load while I took a sip. I grabbed my cell phone and plugged it into the charger cord that lay on my desktop. Everything was normal, only everything had changed.

About fifteen minutes later, my phone chimed. It was a text from Tyler.

We need to talk
, it read.

I almost laughed when I saw it. I snorted and shook my head at the mere thought of him lying to my face, ignoring me for three days, and ruining my life, only to come up with that bit of genius. That was the best he could do?

Six hours later I responded with my own sentiment.

How could you?

T
yler texted me back right away, but he didn’t answer my question.

When can we talk? I want to do this in person,
he wrote.

Do what in person? Did he think for one second that he was in control anymore? We weren’t going to talk until I was ready to talk. Until I had mapped out exactly what was going to happen. He knew I could make life hell for him, and he was right. He also knew how much I loved him, and yet he had taken advantage of my vulnerability and mocked me by doing the one thing I had always been afraid a man would do to me. I was strong in every aspect of my life, but never where Tyler was concerned. All I had ever wanted was for us to have a family, and I had been convinced that giving birth to Tyler’s son would make him love me the way I loved him. It was the one thing that would bind us forever and ensure that he would look at me with the same admiration I had for him. I was only a couple months away from changing everything for the better. How could he have done this to us?

When I’m ready to see you, I will let you know,
I answered.

I need my things,
he replied.

I guess you should have planned ahead
, I texted back and turned off my phone.

Hard as it was, I had to try to think logically, like I was my own lawyer. And while I doubted Tyler was eager to come groveling back
to me, I needed to know what his intentions were. But first I had to be certain of my reaction. Assuming there was an apology waiting for me, did I want it? Would it matter? Could we save our marriage? He’d broken my trust and my heart; I didn’t know if I could ever forgive him for that. And if he could do something like this at the height of our euphoria, then he was certainly capable of doing it anytime. That said, I didn’t want to be alone. His texts brought tears to my eyes.

Robert knocked on my door and entered simultaneously. He paused his familiar, determined stride when he saw my face. “Are you okay?”

I stared at him, ready to nod, and then shook my head instead. “I will be,” I said as a few tears rolled down my cheek.

“Sorry, the door was open…”

“It’s fine; please, sit down,” I said and gestured to the two armchairs across from me.

Robert sat down and placed three file folders on my desk. “Madison has me well versed in the art of nodding and agreeing, so if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears.” He smiled.

Robert and I probably spent more time together than he and his wife did. I imagined he was subjected to long tirades about why he couldn’t leave work before nine o’clock at night, and why he had to be back in the office no later than seven in the morning. Only other lawyers ever really understood—not only how taxing those hours were but also what they meant. Hours spent at the office were our lifeblood, our credibility, our means of proving our worth. He probably did his best to explain this to his young wife, just as I’d done with Tyler for so many years, but it was hard for our spouses to feel that they weren’t a priority. That they didn’t come first. Did that mean I deserved to be cheated on?

“Tyler is cheating on me,” I said outright. “He’s fucking some makeup artist.”

Robert slid down in his seat. “No,” he whispered.

I sighed. “Yup, so it looks like you just got yourself a new client.”

“He told you that?” Robert asked.

“He didn’t have to.”

Robert’s cheeks puffed up with air, and then he exhaled a long breath. “Oh my God, I don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“How did you find out?” he asked.

“I caught him in a few lies, and he didn’t have the time to cover his tracks,” I told him. “Remember how I was supposed to visit my mom this weekend?”

He nodded.

“Well, my flight got canceled, and I went to drop off that fridge I bought him at his office as a surprise, because he was supposed to be out all day on a shoot. The fridge is now rotting in a dumpster somewhere. Anyway, he was planning on spending the weekend with this woman in our house while I was away.”

Robert rolled his eyes. “Unbelievable,” he said shaking his head. “What are you going to do?”

“I really don’t know. I haven’t even spoken to him since I found out on Friday. In fact, he just texted me for the first time in two days. He wants to talk, but I’m afraid of what he’s going to say,” I admitted.

“Can you forgive him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe if it was a onetime thing, you know? A colossal mistake for which he was regretful and apologetic…then maybe. But it’s been going on for months. He’s been sending her
gifts, and God knows what else,” I said. “Something tells me I may not have a say in the matter.”

Robert shifted in his chair, and I caught him glance at my stomach before crossing his legs. “He’s an idiot.”

I nodded.

“I wish I knew what to say, Chloe; I’m in shock,” he started. “I mean after everything you’ve gone through with the baby and everything…I just don’t get it.”

“Me neither.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he offered. “Do you need a place to stay?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine at the house. I had the locks changed, and I’m guessing he finally realized it when he went there this morning to get his things.”

“He should know better than to mess with you,” Robert said.

“Yeah, anyway, I just got a message from Kimberly James that her husband accosted her at Sports Authority yesterday, and she called the police. He was arrested and charged with battery. She wants an emergency order of protection filed today covering her and giving her sole possession of the children. Can you take care of that for me?”

“Of course,” he said and stood.

“Thanks, Robert, and please don’t feel sorry for me, okay?”

“Too late,” he said and smiled. “I know this can’t be easy. Just let me know if there is anything I can do. If you need him to take a long walk down a short pier, just say the word.”

“I will, thank you.”

Late that afternoon, I filed for my own divorce. Not because I’d made up my mind and decided I wanted a divorce, but because I needed a court case number to be able to subpoena Tyler’s phone records.

And so began my new obsession.

E
very night for the next two weeks I came home from work, curled up on the couch and cried. I cried so hard one night that I was convinced I was having a heart attack. When the paramedics arrived at my house, they said my symptoms were more congruent with those of a panic attack and asked if I’d had any recent significant changes in my life.

I avoided all calls that weren’t work-related, and only communicated with friends and family via text. Some knew bits and pieces of what happened; some knew nothing at all. I found out from Hollis that Tyler had been staying on their couch, and that Mitch had given him a stern scolding. She’d told me that Tyler broke things off with Morgan, and that Mitch had forbade the company from ever hiring her again. But it was all too little too late as far as I was concerned. The damage was done.

Once I got my hands on Tyler’s text records, I sat and read through every single one of them. They made me sick to my stomach. It was like bad amateur porn. Cheesy and appalling and hard to look at.

I can taste your cologne on my tongue.

I need you.

I’m so wet right now thinking about last night.

Did you get the pictures? xoxo

Can you meet for “lunch” again?

My tits still smell like you.

I knew I was torturing myself, but I didn’t care. I deserved it for being so stupid. I wanted to hang them all over the walls of my bedroom as a reminder of how naïve I was. Maybe reading them every morning would give me the strength I needed to end my marriage.

Eventually, I confessed my situation to Grace. She wept on the phone as I recounted what I knew and read her a few of the texts that Morgan had sent my husband. She ached with me like everyone else I’d told. Everyone but Dixie Reed, that is.

Mitch and Hollis kicked Tyler out after three weeks, and he eventually went to stay with his parents. I’d texted him that I still wasn’t ready to talk or see him, and he honored my wishes. About five weeks after I learned of his affair, his mother showed up at my office one Thursday morning.

“Your mother-in-law is here,” Rachel said from the door. “What should I tell her?”

“Send her in.” I paused. “And then save me in ten minutes.”

I sat up straight and waited for her to enter. I refused to stand or greet her with a hug like I normally would have. There was no way she was there to sympathize with me, so I braced myself for a standoff.

“Chloedear, bless your heart, you’re positively glowing,” she said.

“Hi, Dixie,” I said and gestured to an open chair.

She took a seat and removed her gloves. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good now that the morning sickness has subsided.”

“I see you finally have a proper baby belly.” She smiled.

I looked down and folded my hands over my stomach.

“I hope you don’t mind my barging in here like this, but I was in the city for a hair appointment, so I thought I would stop by and check in on you and my grandson.”