Entering their home, tip toeing his way in, hoping she’d still be sound asleep in their bedroom, he suddenly came to a halt when he spotted her silhouette on the couch. He hadn’t seen her move, just yet, but there was no light on in the living room and she was wrapped in shadows and her favorite blankets.
He could try to postpone it a bit, but he knew the conversation they were about to have was inevitable. He knew he was in trouble if she had waited for him all night long. Deep trouble. And even if he pretended having worked all night long (again), she wouldn’t buy it this time. Not after making him promise to call, no matter how late in the evening, to let her know he’d stay at the office overnight.
He felt cheap. If he didn’t love her anymore, he wouldn’t mind disappointing her. No, he still loved her dearly, but he was just an asshole, and he wasn’t fooling himself just because he risked losing the comfort of their lovely family with his escapades. He genuinely loved her.
She hadn’t moved yet, and he sat on the ottoman, wondering if he should wake her up, or just wait for her to awaken on her own. In a way, she was already punishing him. Letting him simmer in the guilt of having surrendered to his lowest instincts.
Cynthia was beautiful, of course. More than beautiful, she was stunningly hot and quite honestly out of his league. That was probably what had pushed him in her arms, so easily. Until the moment they had started kissing on their first ”date”, he didn’t believe she would ever fall for him. She was obviously just playing with him, and he wanted to enjoy the temptation until she would finally dump him.
But she hadn’t.
Instead, she had been calling him, more and more often. She didn’t mind that he was married. As a matter of fact, she was almost happy he was, because she didn’t want any ties. She just required sex, and boy was she good at it.
He didn’t want to give himself excuses. He should have stopped this before it even started, but he had let himself get drawn in by Cynthia’s luscious ways. It was going to stop, here and now.
But at what cost?
He burried his face in his large hands, and started sobbing softly. He didn’t even expect his wife to forgive him… Did he really deserve forgiveness? Probably not. Not right away, that was for sure. But maybe, just maybe… Coming clean would send him to the dog house for a while, and she’d take him back eventually.
His attempt at self-comforting didn’t work the least bit.
Suddenly, he heard her moving on the couch. She was waking up… He couldn’t stand to look at her and kept his head down.
Mr Bloomfield? Are you alright??
Confused, he finally looked up to find Isabelle, their babysitter, emerging from the pile of blankets. A hundred questions going through his mind, he stood up, appologizing and explaining he didn’t expect to find her there.
I’m sorry, I thought your wife had informed you, – the young woman rubbed her hoodie’s sleeve over her eyes to chase the sleep leftovers from her face – she had to fill in for a coworker last night. She called me to come take care of Coddie and Tamarra, since you’d probably just be back this morning…
He sat back on the ottoman.
And he thought he couldn’t possibly feel any worst. ”Think again, asshole” he thought for himself.