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I hold my key card over my door and let out a sigh of relief when I see Meredith is still passed out cold and will be none the wiser that I hadn’t slept here.
I can just forget about it.
It never happened and I’ll never see him again.
Little did I know that in three months’ time, I’d learn that the best sex of my life was with a married man.
Three Months Later
“Beck, come on, one more drink?” I ask my best friend Wes Beckham as he gets up from the bar stool after draining the contents of his beer. I can practically hear the pleading in my voice.
“I have to be in early tomorrow.” He looks at me from over the top of his glasses giving me a look that isn’t exactly scolding but direct enough to tell me he thinks I should follow suit. “As do you.”
“We’ve had like two beers, come on. You act like I want to get hammered.”
“You’re avoiding going home.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Obviously.” I drag my hand through my hair. “Holly is getting worse,” I say, rubbing my fingers over my temples as I think about the woman I’m married to. “I even suggested counseling again and she still will not go for it.”
Beck drops to his seat with a sigh and holds up a finger towards the bartender signaling another beer. “Why?”
“Something about it not being anyone’s business but ours what goes on in our marriage.”
Beck’s face forms a frown as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, but…it’s a counselor and you guys have been having trouble for a few years now.”
I snort. “Tell that to her.”
I’ve been married for almost six years. I would say only the first two years were good but even that feels like a stretch. It was like after we got married and settled into our new life, something changed and I’ve been holding onto hope ever since that she’d revert to the woman I fell in love with. The woman who was sweet and charming. Fun and independent. A woman who actually cared about me and not just my bank account.
But it’s been six years and I’m beginning to think all of that pre-marital bliss had been smoke and mirrors.
Holly and I met on my first weekend here in Philly almost eight years ago. I’d moved here somewhat on a whim because Wes Beckham, my mentor and one of my best friends, decided to start a company and he wanted me to be his CFO. I had just finished grad school and was dreading the thought of going to work in the shadow of my grandfather so I jumped at the opportunity to go off on my own and make something of myself that wasn’t bordering on nepotism.
The weekend I moved here, we’d gone out and I met Holly that first night. Beautiful. Flirtatious. Fun. I hadn’t laughed that much in ages and maybe it was the high of the move and the excitement of Wes’ business plan but I’d gotten her number that night and spent the next several weeks pursuing her. Looking back, I realize how enamored I was with the idea of having it all. The career and the relationship. I loved the idea of her.
We did all the steps. Dated for a year. Moved in together. I proposed. We got married. It was all so easy. And then, it wasn’t.
It was as if a switch flipped overnight. She quit her job, which was fine. Beckham Securities was off the ground at this point and was starting to thrive so I was technically able to support us on my income alone. I’ll admit it bothered me that she hadn’t even talked to me about it before she did it though. I was literally the last person to know and that wasn’t until weeks later.
When I asked her what she was planning to do, she said it was in preparation for us having a baby. Another thing we hadn’t talked about. We’d only been married about two months at that time and I was working nonstop. I definitely wanted children, but I wanted to get to more stable ground financially and for us to have a little more time as a newly married couple before we had children. She agreed quickly and then proceeded to take vacations every month. Shopping trips every other day. The most expensive dinners. Long weekends with her friends at spas on our dime because ‘we could afford it.’
When I confronted her about a month where she spent almost fifty thousand dollars on our credit card, she lost it. Called me every name in the book before storming out and staying with her best friend for three days. We’d only been married about five months at that point and I was already beginning to wonder if I’d made a mistake. We were doing well, but not well enough for me to afford that kind of credit card bill every month in addition to everything else I was paying for.
When the money started flowing more easily, I thought things would get better. I knew there was a mounting problem in our marriage, but I was hoping I could sweep it under the rug for the time being. Then I realized there were even bigger problems. Holly had this condescending nature that really got under my skin and it bothered me the way she talked to literally everyone. Specifically, anyone that worked for me. It was like she got off on letting everyone know that she believed she was better than them. It was a constant battle between us. I was so miserable and fed up over it that one night after one too many drinks I went home with someone else.
I felt like shit.
I held it in for a week before the guilt started to eat me alive and I confessed everything. She blinked at me like she was unfazed before shrugging and saying, “It’s whatever.” I was shocked. She didn’t care? She wasn’t angry? And then she looked me up and down and said with a patronizing pat to my cheek, “You shouldn’t want me to be angry. I didn’t sign a prenuptial agreement so if I’m angry enough to want a divorce, I get half of everything.”
Her words were like a punch in the gut.
She couldn’t be fucking serious.
“Did…did you ever love me?” I’d asked her, my words getting caught in my throat. It seemed I’d not only climbed into bed with the devil, but I’d slid a ring on her finger tying us together and creating my own personal hell.
“I do love you, Chris. You’re successful and brilliant and we are going to create such a legacy.”
“You love my money.”
