His Secret

55. Adrian

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

ADRIAN

“Charlotte,” I say, standing up, heart in my throat.

She didn’t see anything. We didn’t do anything once the door was open.

Except I stared at him like a love-struck teenager as he walked home. But I never saw her or the car.

“Are you fucking our neighbor?” she yells, pointing toward his house. “Your boss?! Are you?”

“Charlotte, please.”

“No, Adrian. I leave for fifteen minutes, and come back to find him leaving our house, and you standing there with a smile on your face like you don’t care that our marriage is over.”

I get up and walk around the couch, but she moves away like I have an infectious disease.

Her eyes study me, and then something hits her. She gasps lightly, and I watch as her eyes widen. Several long seconds pass by as she watches me, holding onto a thought in her head.

“You said your dad found out in college.” Another long pause as she puts things together. “And you told me you knew him. Our neighbor. You said you went to school together.”

My heart drops into my stomach.

“You didn’t tell me right away, though. You didn’t tell me he was your boss. You didn’t tell me you knew him in college.” After a few seconds, she says, “It’s true, isn’t it? It’s him.” My fear and guilt keep me from finding the words. I just stare at her, my heart rate spiking. “Goddammit, Adrian, fucking tell me! I already know!”

“Yes, he’s the guy from college.”

“And?” she questions, eyes wild with anger.

“Charlotte, let me explain.”

She laughs a humorless laugh. A short choking sound. “Of course. Now you want to explain. How fucking dare you. How dare you!” Her voice bounces off the walls.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte.”

“Sure you are,” she says, more angry than sad right now.

“I know nothing I say will make this better. Nothing I tell you will make you understand, but?—”

She whirls around. “But what? What, Adrian? You don’t regret it? You don’t wish you could take it back?”

I look at her, knowing she won’t want to hear the truth, though she thinks she does. It’s going to make an already painful situation hurt even more.

“I feel bad that I hurt you.”

“What a fucking cowardly answer,” she sneers. “You fuck someone else but don’t have the balls to tell your wife that you did it because you wanted to. That not once did you think about me. That my feelings weren’t even in your head, because all you could think about was yourself. You fucked him knowing it was wrong. You fucked him knowing it would hurt me. You fucked him. You fucked him. You fucked him!” she yells, tears now streaming down her face .

“Charlotte, I've loved him since I was twenty-one!” I shout.

She blanches, eyes wide.

“I know that hurts to hear, but it’s true. He’s the only person I’ve ever been myself with. We were forced apart by my father using threats and manipulation. Just as we were forced into this relationship,” I say, gesturing between us. “My whole life I’ve been forced to pretend and lie. I’ve never lived for myself, Charlotte. I made decisions my father wanted me to make. I married you and knew I could never love you the same way. I wanted to be there for you, and I was. I supported you and cared for you, and I don’t regret those things. I don’t, Char. You needed me.”

A sob breaks free, and she covers her mouth.

“Seeing him again brought everything back, and yes, I made decisions I knew were wrong. I knew they’d hurt you. I know I’m fucked up for that, but it felt like I was finally making decisions for myself and not for anyone else. I was doing something I wanted to do. I was reclaiming what was taken from me. It was a hundred percent selfish, and I admit that.”

She shakes her head, softly crying. “I can’t believe this.”

Tears well in my eyes watching her break down. I want to hug her and hold her, but I’m sure she doesn’t want me to touch her. I take a few steps closer to where she leans against the wall.

“You deserve better than me, Char. And you’ll find someone who will worship the ground you walk on, and I’ll be so happy for you.”

“Stop,” she says through another sob. “Please just leave me alone.”

Slowly, I back away, and turn to head upstairs. I go into the bedroom and sit on the bed, drop my head in my hands, and let the tears fall.

Even though I needed to tell her the truth, and though I knew I needed to end our marriage, it doesn't make this process feel any better. It still hurts, and I’m still heartbroken over it.