by Q. B. Tyler
“I think…” I start. “That our love has been extremely healthy for both of us. We needed this. We deserve this after trusting our hearts with people that didn’t deserve it. We deserve to be happy.”
“See and that, you always know just what to say.” She sighs and puts her hand under her head and stares up at me dreamily. “You’re perfect.”
“I am far from perfect, Charley.” I laugh.
Really far.
“Well, you’re perfect for me.”
I hope you still think so after tomorrow.
“You would never lie to me,” she says with a smile. I think she’s still talking, but my brain has shut down hearing those six words.
You would never lie to me.
You would never lie to me.
You would never lie to me.
“I’m sorry, what did you say, baby?” I ask.
“You’re honest and compassionate and you are such a good man, Will. I feel so lucky to know you.”
Charlotte has been unabashed about her feelings from the beginning but hearing her voice them so emphatically has me wanting to fuck her on this table.
Maybe, just maybe I had a shot at keeping her when this was all over. When she had all the facts, she’d look up at me with tears in her eyes and tell me she loved me and that we would get through this together.
It’s all I could hope for.
We’d long since decided that we would leave my car here and come back for it in the morning, and had opted to walk a bit down Main Street before calling it a night. This is how we came to be at a lounge that has a speakeasy feel. Exposed brick and dim lights that flicker line the walls, and amber hues reflect off the shiny mahogany bar.
A bar where Matthew Wells is sitting, his hand moving up the skirt of a blonde woman with breasts up to her ears. I freeze, hesitating to take another step. I turn to Charlotte, trying to block her vision of what’s behind me. “Let’s go, the place next door seems better.”
“What! Oh, come on, this place is so cool.” She steps around me and takes in the atmosphere with almost a childlike expression. She moves towards the bar before immediately stopping in her tracks. The bar is somewhat dark but lit enough for me to follow her gaze to see that she’d located her ex-husband. I watch as the color leaves her face.
“You are much more beautiful,” I murmur in her ear, unsure of what is going through that mind of hers. She scoffs and shakes her head.
“I’m not jealous. But you’re right, we should go. Nothing good can come from the three of us being here.”
I nod in agreement, just as his eyes find us. “Fuck,” I whisper and Charlotte’s sharp intake of breath is enough for me to make the call for us. “We’re out of here.” I grab her hand and begin moving back through the door when I feel something pulling me back followed by a squeal. I turn my head to see that Matt has wrapped his arm around Charlotte’s forearm staring at her with a murderous expression.
“If you don’t let her the fuck go, I will break your arm off,” I growl at him as I put myself between them and force his hand off of her.
He still hasn’t said anything when Charley starts to pull on my arm. “Baby, let’s go.”
“BABY?” he roars, and the thing about speakeasies is they’re quiet, unlike raging clubs and bars; the vibe is relaxed, the volume just above a dull roar. So, when Matt bellows, everyone turns to look at us.
“There a problem here, folks?” the host asks, his eyes scanning the circle and landing on Charlotte as if he’s quickly putting together what exactly that problem is.
“He,” Matt sticks his finger in my face, and I resist the urge to break it, “is fucking my wife.”
“Oh my God,” Charlotte groans and a look of dread crosses her face as I imagine she’s picturing the worst.
“She’s his ex-wife,” I snarl, as I look at the man who’s probably regretting even asking.
“This sounds like a domestic problem. And you can handle that outside. I won’t have you disrupting our establishment.”
“That’s fine. We were just leaving when he manhandled her.” I shoot him a glare, as I stand protectively in front of Charlotte.
“I have some fucking things I want to say to you. So yeah, let’s go.” He points his finger in my face and then towards the door.
“Matt, now is really not the time.” Charley’s voice wavers alerting me of the panic she feels. I wish she wasn’t here because this could get ugly.
“I have some things to say to you as well, like how you sent me a sex tape, you spineless prick.” I put my hands on my hips, daring him to fuck with me. My heart rapidly pounds in my chest as I have flashes of them together.
Thrusting.
Panting.
Fucking.
FUCK.
“Okay that’s it, all of you, OUT,” the host barks as he begins to all but shove Matt and me out the door, and I’m grateful for the few seconds that we aren’t staring each other down. Charley scurries in front of me and when we make it into the cool night air, I immediately pull her back behind me.
“You’re really whining about that? How do you think I felt hearing you have sex with my wife? All the things you said…” Matt stops talking and shuts his eyes for a second, more than likely remembering that we confessed our love to each other on the very same tape. I don’t even try to wipe the smug look off my face. When his eyes pop back open, they’re filled with rage and directed at Charley who’d moved next to me. “I wanted you to feel how I felt after I had to hear your little tape.”
“That was a fucking visual, Matt!” Charley yells. She’s so angry she’s shaking, and under any other circumstances I would be turned on. Hell, I think I am anyway, watching her protect me and us so fiercely to the man she’d essentially left to be with me. “You unlawfully planted an audio recording device, that is not the fucking same.”
“You’re right, you cheating on me after five years of marriage is not the fucking same.”
She lets out a breath, her cheeks puffing out as I know she’s not really sure what to say to that. “You were never supposed to hear that, and I’m sorry you did. But you maliciously sent a tape to the man I love. You intentionally sent the tape out of retaliation. To hurt him. To hurt me.”
“What about me? You think I didn’t love you? Do you just not give a fuck about my feelings at all? It doesn’t matter that you hurt me? That you destroyed our marriage?”
“I didn’t—Matt, can we not do this now? We’ve had a bit to drink and—”
“Everything has to be done on your terms, right? Never mind that you cheated on me and broke us. Never mind that it was with our fucking therapist!” He pauses. “I always thought that laundry list of reasons you gave was bullshit.”
“They weren’t bullshit! I didn’t destroy this marriage all on my own, Matt.”
“You certainly played a larger part,” he snarls. “I wasn’t around enough, I worked too much, I didn’t give you a baby…but you neglected to tell me the biggest reason. You needed to be fucked constantly like the whore you are and our fucking marriage counselor was taking care of that for you.” He gets in her face, yelling at her, and I press my hand to his chest, pushing him backwards. My fist flexes, preparing myself for his retaliation.
“Back off, Wells, and watch your fucking mouth.”
“Tell me does she suck your dick? Because that’s a luxury I had in the beginning but that goes away. She turned into a frigid bitch in the third year of our marriage. The sex was like going through the motions. I barely enjoyed it half the time. I hate to break it to you, Charlotte, but you’re kind of a boring lay. In case you were wondering why I stopped fucking you.”
“Enough,” I growl, my hands flex before balling into a fist and my brain is screaming at me to calm down, to not engage in this psychological warfare. If you swing at him, it will be bad.
If you swing at him, you will lose everything.
You’ll lose Charlotte.
I’m not sure if that is true,
but I need to keep my rage in check, and allowing her asshole ex-husband to get under my skin is the quickest way to lose my temper.
“Everything is all sunshine and blow jobs in the beginning and then it just stops.”
“You’re being disgusting,” Charlotte interjects. “I forgot you can get like this when you’re drunk.” Her words are like a punch to the gut. Is this how she felt about me when I found the sex tape? I feel her hands lacing with mine and then pulling me down the street away from potential disaster.
“Don’t fucking walk away from me. I’m not finished.”
“Well, we are,” I tell him. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and let you insult her.”
I hear his heavy breathing and I know he’s only a few steps behind us. “And fuck you and your so-called therapy. I ought to kick your ass. God, I was paying you three hundred dollars an hour to fuck my wife? You know prostitution is illegal in Georgia. I don’t like that I unknowingly became your pimp, Charlotte,” he growls.
I spin around to face him. My nostrils flare, and my heart pounds in my chest. Sweat beads on the back of my neck and trickles down as the anger boils inside. I let out a deep breath, trying to extinguish the fire blazing within.
Call her a name, one more fucking time.
Charley’s voice cuts through the tension calming me slightly. “Don’t be disgusting.”
“You spread your legs for the first man that gave you a second glance, Charlotte. Don’t call me disgusting. Look in the fucking mirror.”
She gasps and I prepare myself to tear him a new one for speaking to her in such a hateful manner when she explodes. “Are you fucking kidding me? Are you really that self-involved? First of all, I didn’t spread my legs for anyone. I gave myself fully to a man that loves and cherishes me. To a man that I love more than anything.” She purses her lips, and I know she feels good having gotten that small dig in. “But circling back to ‘the first man that gave me a second glance.’ PLEASE!” She puts her hand up. “Men gave me second glances all the time. Sometimes third and fourth glances too. Do you know how many of your associates, clients, and partners have hit on me? Sometimes in front of you! I always thought it didn’t bother you, because you never reacted to it. But you’re telling me you just didn’t notice? I don’t know why I’m surprised, you never noticed anything when it came to me.” I hear the sadness in her voice, and I want to pull her away and kiss the pain out of her. I want her to know that I notice everything about her. That I will always notice her. That she will always be the center of my universe.
Matt is silent, and I think he’s taking a moment to recall the instances in question. “What did he do that I didn’t? How did this motherfucker,” he points at me again, “weasel in and steal my wife right out from under my nose?”
I’m struggling with whether to step away and let her handle this on her own and wanting to stay, to keep Matt in check and his hands off of my fiancée. “So many things,” Charlotte whispers. “You fell out of love with me, Matt. I could feel it and so could you. When you looked at me it was as if you were looking through me. You stopped seeing me. Will saw me. He didn’t steal me either. I was drowning in my own misery, depressed with a low self-image due to a husband that didn’t pay me the time of day. You took me for granted. You made me feel that I wasn’t important. Like I was your property to do with what you wanted and when you didn’t need me I was irrelevant.” She lowers her head in shame and I wrap my arm around her waist pulling her closer to me.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?” he yells, his eyes darting to where we are connected and she flinches.
See? She wants me to protect her now.
She wants me.
She’s mine.
“I did. Before we even went to therapy. And in therapy! You walked out on me so many times when I was trying to have this conversation with you. Matt, I tried to leave you once. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard this.”
“You never said it like that.”
“Yes, I did. You just weren’t listening. I was screaming for your attention, your affection. But you couldn’t hear me. Or maybe you just didn’t want to.”
He puts his hands on his hips as he takes a step back. He turns around and I wonder if he’s going to walk away, but he turns back to us, his body shaking with anger, his eyes glazing over and I wonder if it’s fueled by too much alcohol or if his emotions are just running high. Either way, I’m on high alert ready to put myself between them.
“We can try again.” Oh, fuck that. “You and me, we can put this behind us. I can forgive you for what you did. For this.” His eyes are clearer as they glare at me, but still cold and angry leading me to believe that despite his words, he would never be able to truly forgive her for what she did. He damn sure wouldn’t be able to forget.
“No, Matt. This isn’t a fling. This is real.” She looks up at me, a look in her eyes telling me she’s sorry, and I squeeze her tighter against me.
“What the fuck do you mean real? YOU WERE MY WIFE! THERE IS NOTHING MORE REAL!” he screams as he takes another step closer to us. I move in between them again and push him harder against his chest.
I’ve been trying my best to keep my voice even but the anger seeps out of me as he screams at her. “Get the fuck away from her!” I push him back out of her personal space. “You act like she’s the only one that had a hand in destroying your marriage. But this is your MO, right? Placing blame everywhere except for where it belongs. Blaming others for your fucking mistakes.” My voice gets louder, and I note a couple in the corner of my eye scurrying past me.
“You were a shitty fucking husband,” I continue and I watch as his face falls slightly. Good. You deserve to know the truth. “Charley was done taking your shit! She moved on to someone who cares about her. Who gave a shit. Because it was obvious you did not.” I’m so angry at this point that I’m actually shaking. I ball my hands into a fist to try and stop the tremors moving through me.
I know my words are harsh. Ones said out of anger. The doctor in me is silently condemning my behavior. This is not the answer, Will. But the other part of me, the much larger part, the one that promised to protect the woman shaking like a leaf beside me is gearing up for battle.
This is the end of a yearlong war.
Against my feelings, my conscious, my morals and now the ex-husband of the woman I love.
This is the man that sent a brick through my window, that sent me a fucking sex tape, that tried to break Charley.
Fuck him.
He’s back in my face, the whiskey from his breath swirling around me and making me wish I had a glass at that moment. “You have a lot of fucking nerve, you prick. Is this how you counsel?” he spits out.
Hit him. The alcohol tells me.
I’m shaking with rage, my hand curling into a fist, ready to hit his arrogant face.
I’m toe to toe with him, he’s about my height, putting us nose to nose and I stare at him square in the eye. “Listen to me,” my voice is low, cold, hard, “if you don’t watch your fucking tone, I will put my fist through your face. Your insults and petulant comments are only proof of just what a pathetic man you are. Charlotte was always too good for you and she’s better off without you.”
He stares at me with equally angry eyes, and within a split second, his hands are wrapped around the collar of my jacket. “Fuck you, asshole.” He turns to Charlotte. “This is who you chose over me? This pretentious prick?” He lets me go, shoving me backwards and all of the alcohol in my system makes me stumble slightly.
Charlotte wraps her arms around me, holding me upright. “Matt, I’m sorry that I’ve turned you into this hateful man. But I—” she starts.
I’m so focused on Charlotte, hearing her gear up to speak that I don’t see it coming or I don’t see his fist flying through the air. I hear him grunt out asshole and then Charlotte’s eyes widen. But it all happens so fast.
I turn back towards him and she screams just as his fist conn
ects with my jaw.
Hard.
The car ride is silent, only the sounds of late night talk radio blare through the speakers as we move towards my house. Charlotte is pressed up against me, her lips having found my cheek every few seconds soothing the searing pain shooting through my face. I hadn’t looked at the damage yet but I could feel my cheek swelling up and the fire bubbling under the surface.
Fuck, that was one hell of a hit. I hope that felt good, Wells. Because that was your one.
Charlotte hailed a cab that was driving by and all but forced me into it before I could make the snap decision to punch Matt back.
“I am so sorry,” she whispers against my cheek as she strokes the other, rubbing her nose along the inflamed skin.
“It’s okay, baby. Not your fault.”
I look over to find tears brimming under her lids, a direct reflection of the sorrow lurking. “How can you say that? This whole thing is my fault.” She sniffles and pushes herself harder against me.
I turn my face towards her and rub my nose against her. “Not. Your. Fault. I provoked him, Charley.”
Her eyes aren’t looking at me, but at my cheek, and she winces as she begins to run her fingertips over it. “We should ice that when we get home.”
“How bad is it?”
“You’re still perfect.” She smiles and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s fine. But you see why I was always so worried about you around him? I thought you said he wasn’t the violent type?”
“I said he’d never hit me.”
“I’m still not convinced.”
She shivers and I wonder if the thought had crossed her mind as well. “Do you still feel the same?” she whispers, and even in the darkness of the cab I can see that her eyelids are drooping.