Man of My Dreams (8 page)

I exit the loud entryway through a revolving door, away from all the fur coats, over applied perfume and collagen inflated smiles. I hate every single one of these people right now.

Declan whooshes through the door, right behind me. He grabs my arm and stops me from stalking off. When I’m face to face with him I don’t like what I see in his eyes: Shame. Remorse. Guilt.

“Who, Declan?” I know what this boils down to, I will not dance around the reality that my husband is obviously having an affair.
Holy shit, he’s having a fucking affair!

“Mia. Let’s not do this here. Please?”

Okay, so he’s not even denying it then. How can this be happening? This kind of thing was never supposed to happen to me. To us. I’ve never given him a reason to stray.
Have I?
And even if I did, how the hell could he do this?

My body is inundated with too many unfamiliar feelings. Burning heat radiates through my veins, my stomach churns and flip-flops and I’m pretty sure my heart is beating loud enough for Declan to hear. I can barely stand, my legs and other limbs wobbly and unsteady, but a dominant anger empowers me so I wind up and slap Declan across the face.

He winces and brings his hand up to his freshly shaven cheek. That’s when the floodgates open. Tears dampen my neck as they spill down my painted face uncontrollably, causing me to stifle back unattractive sobs. All the air has left my lungs, like I’ve been punched in the gut. I try to breathe in the crisp, cold air, but my body denies me the ability to do so. Choppy, rapid breaths escape me as I hunch over, like a runner who’s just finished a marathon. Declan reaches over to help, but I swat his hand away, trying to regain composure.

“Get the hell away from me. I’m calling a cab. I can’t stand the sight of you.”

“I won’t let you go home by yourself, Mia. Please, let me go in there and make up some excuse. I’ll take you home. We can…talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Declan. You cheated on me, you’re having an affair and my world is falling apart outside your fucking office Christmas party.” I can’t contain the sobs now. Thank God we are out here alone. Aside from the valet attendant, who is getting a pretty entertaining show right now.

“It’s not like that at all, Mia. Please, let me explain. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to find out like this and I’m—I’m just so sorry.”

I reach into my clutch and pull out my cell phone to call information for a car service. “No, Declan, you’re just sorry I found out. I’m going home. Go have fun with—wait a goddamn minute. Is she in there? Do I know her?” I start to push my way past Declan, toward the revolving door.

But he stops me.

“Mia, please calm down. You don’t deserve to be embarrassed here tonight.”

“No, I don’t. But you definitely do. Who the fuck is she?”

He closes his eyes and I watch his shoulders rise and fall with calculated breaths. “She’s not here, I swear. It’s not what you think. It was—it was a one-time thing.”

Yeah, and I’m an even bigger fool than the one I must look like right now.
“I’m sure. Well, in that case, I hope your one night stand was worth losing it all.” I turn my back to him, unable to look at his traitorous face any longer, and I bring my hands up to my eyes, sobbing again.

Declan tries to comfort me by wrapping his arms around me, but without even thinking my arms flail wildly, punching his arms, his chest, his stomach, over and over again.

I guess this finally grabs the valet’s attention because he hurries over to us. “Miss, are you okay? Is this man bothering you?” He scans Declan from head to toe, clenching his ready fists at his side.

“I’m not just some man, I’m her husband. Please, let us handle this.”

“No, actually he
is
bothering me. Would you mind calling me a cab? I want to go now.” I know by doing this I’m only running away, but the car ride home with Declan would be like enduring a slow death by boiling.

Declan makes one more attempt to try to calm me down, to try and explain himself, but the valet attendant is between us now. He shouts over the boy’s head, “Mia, baby, I love you. I never meant for this to happen.”

I don’t even give him the satisfaction of an answer. I turn to the curb to wait for the cab. After a long and lonely minute the only sound I hear is the clicking of Declan’s shoes on the pavement, getting further and further away.

It’s not ‘til I get home, walk into my empty house, that the reality starts to sink in. My husband had an affair. An
affair
. Saying it over and over in my head doesn’t weaken its meaning. What a dumb word to describe—
this
. What he did.
Affair
seems too formal, too politically correct, to encompass what it really means. It’s bullshit! That’s what it is. Pure, heart wrenching, holy-shit-this-is-not-happening-to-me
bullshit
!

How will I tell my parents? My friends?
The girls.
This will devastate them. Am I going to be divorced at twenty-eight years old? How did I miss the warning signs? What did I do to deserve this?

I collapse on the couch, already tired from the unremitting tears and the questions popping up like microwave popcorn in my head. I cry so hard my body shakes, trembling and convulsing. I run to the bathroom because the sobs have lodged themselves in my throat, causing me to gag and heave. I fall down to my knees in front of the toilet and spew my guts up. I’ve had stomach flus, drunken wild nights, and morning sickness, but vomit has never left my body this violently before.

I rest my head on the toilet, giving in to the self-inflicted mental and physical beating I’ve just taken and I hear the sound of the front door slam shut, followed by frantic footsteps.

“Mia, baby? Mia? Where are you?”

If I had the energy to get up and lock the door I would. I would lock myself in here until the hurt and disbelief vanish, but there’s no telling if and when that will ever happen.

A few seconds later, Declan is at my side, rubbing my back. “Are you okay?”

Yes, Declan, I’m perfect. Just fucking peachy.
“Get the hell out. Leave me alone.” If only it were that simple. I actually don’t want him to leave me alone. I never wanted him to leave me alone, and ironically, now that he’s done the unthinkable, that’s what I’m going to be – all alone.

Declan’s crying now. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry. It’s unsettling, even if I want to see him hurt as badly as I’m hurting. “Mia, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say, but I want to talk to you about it. I need to make you understand.”

“Understand what, Dec? You lied to me. You cheated on me. You…ruined our marriage and our family…for one night with some…whore. I can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth.
Why
Declan? I need…to understand…why?” The sobs distort my speech. I can’t even get the words out without insufferable sniffling.

“There is no explanation, Mia. But you’re not
letting
me talk. It’s not what you think. I didn’t…”

“You know what, spare me all the details and just get the hell out.”

“Mia…”

“GET OUT!” I scream so loud my throat feels raw. “Get out, get out, get out!” I can’t say it enough. I need him to leave. I can’t hear one more word out of his mouth. The mouth that was mine, that has now been all over someone else’s body. The thought disgusts me so much I start to wretch again, spilling out more, emptying my body to match the same empty feeling in my heart.

By the time I’m finally done, Declan is nowhere to be found.

I find my phone to call Grace. I need to talk to someone. I need to know what to do. I have no idea what comes next. I feel like the world has come to a crashing halt and I’m the only one left to decipher the outcome.

But I’m not the only one left, and my next move, and all the ones to follow, will affect so many different aspects of my life as I know it. My marriage, my home, my children, my sanity.

I decide against calling Grace. I’m too embarrassed, even if it is Grace. She won’t judge; she’ll listen, support and comfort. But I’m not ready to speak about it yet. Maybe if I don’t speak about it at all it will go away. Highly unlikely, I know.

Instead of dialing her number, I text Declan’s mother, telling her to give the kids an extra kiss for me. My beautiful little girls; they’ll be the product of a broken home and the repercussions that unravel because of it. Fucked up relationships, abandonment issues, and resentment towards their parents…all so Declan could get off with some home wrecking bitch.

I curl up into the fetal position on the couch with swollen, soaked eyes and an empty pit in my stomach. Praying that if I fall asleep I’ll wake up and this will all have been some sick, twisted nightmare.

After a week of introducing each other to our respective parents, siblings and friends from home, Declan and I are happy to be back at school. All in all, spring break didn’t turn out to be a bust. We left home with all four of our parents’ blessings. As much as I loved bringing him around my hometown, at school we’re used to a certain rhythm, one that isn’t so easy to replicate under watchful eyes of concerned parents and nosy childhood friends.

When I told them he’d be visiting, my parents were wary. I’d phone them and talk about him and my mother would warn me to be careful—
”Don’t put all your eggs in one basket,”
she’d say. I knew she was only trying to give motherly advice and save me unnecessary heartache, but Declan and I were already falling hard for each other. I’d read them the riot act, telling them to be nice and make a good impression because I wanted him to stick around.

My parents were more than accommodating—after the incident at the car, of course. Declan was able to connect with my parents in a way that should have taken years. He and my dad talked sports and fishing. Turns out they had more in common than I could have imagined. He’d even impressed my mom with his culinary knowledge. When he complimented her on her homemade apple cobbler, he mentioned how his specialty was peach and he even confessed his family’s secret ingredient.

To my complete and utter shock, Declan had never brought a girl home. He’d dated, but not seriously, so meeting me was a big deal for his parents and his brother. I instantly clicked with his dad, Andrew. He was a handsome man, with kind eyes and a charming ability that made me think of the future—of him as my kid’s grandpa. His mom, Sheila, had me feeling like one of her own in no time. Just like in the movies, she dug out the baby pictures, bragging about how early Declan walked and about his little league accomplishments.

His little brother, Connor, was a riot, a spitting image of his brother, only leaner and gawkier, but still adorable. I had no problem with him tagging along when Declan brought me around to meet his friends and show me where he grew up. He filled me in on the things Declan wasn’t so willing to admit, like which of his friends were dicky, and which ones were alright. His character assessments were dead-on and I liked that he liked me enough to give me fair warning.

I could tell that Declan was happy to be home with his little brother and Connor was equally thrilled that Declan decided to come home for spring break, even if he did drag along his new girlfriend. Connor never made me feel like an intruder. In fact, I was one of the boys by the end of the visit. Connor even had me re-addicted to
Mad Libs.
His parting gift to me was a grocery bag full of new editions of the game. Instead of unpacking my suitcase when we got back on campus, I ransacked the bag, and pulled out
Mad Libs: College Edition.
Not something Declan is so happy about as I ignore him on my dorm room bed, tangling his hands in my hair.

“I need a noun.”

Declan animatedly rolls his eyes. “Enough with the
Mad Libs
, Mia. Didn’t you get your fill with Connor?”

Obviously Declan is unaware of my addictive personality. He’s lucky his brother wasn’t into beer pong. Instead of asking Declan for nouns and adjectives, I would be lining up red cups on my desk, asking him to lob the little white ball.

He flings the
Mad Libs
across the room and pins me down underneath him on the bed. “There is one particular noun that is in desperate need of your attention. Would you care to oblige?”