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So I was writing a few days ago and something happend that made 40 minutes of work just disappear. So then I was pissed and stepped away from the computer before I beat it with my bare hands.
I’m amped about my trip to Oklahoma next month. I miss my girls!
I took too many steps and ended up back tracking, only to still feel him right behind me. Then his hand grazed the inside of my arm from elbow to wrist before our fingers interlocked. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, then lifted it to his mouth and kissed my thumb. I turned and just stared at him, only half aware of my surroundings, as tears began to trickle down my face. He wiped them away with his sleeve and kissed me on the forehead.
“You should get some rest,” I whispered to him, in an attempt to make it clear he should leave.
“I’m not going anywhere until we talk about what happened and decide how to make this work.” He said it with his eyes closed, like it was a wish. I could feel the remorse in his voice. He was remorseful for being caught though, not for what he had done.
I just stared at him blankly. I didn’t know what to feel, forget about what to say. I loved this man that I thought I knew and he turned out to be someone else. He turned out to be someone I hate. He turned out to be you. I hate you. If only I could verbalize those thoughts. If only I could say or do something, anything, besides cry and whimper. Right then, I couldn’t deal with looking at his face and had to leave the room. I shut the door behind me and walked down the hall to Maxwell’s room. Of course he was sleeping, so I quietly shut the door and sunk deep into our story chair. Watching his little face twitch as he slept, I could tell he was in Dreamland. Then his eyes opened wide and he sprung up from under the covers, “Mommy, can we play cars?”
