Red Roses Ch. 04 - Yellow Roses

I sized up the pile, sighed, and pulled the top one off the pile.

Tim returned to the room, bearing two cups of coffee, and placed one in front of me. It had the mocha-tone of the perfect amount of cream for me and, I was sure, the right amount of sugar. I smiled at him, pleased that he remembered to make it as I liked it.

A dim portion of my mind shrieked that Justin had made my coffee the way I liked it since before we'd been married. My smile shrunk a little.

Tim sat. He patted the pile. "Looks like we're making progress. The stack's getting smaller."

"Yeah. We should get a few more done before we call it for the night."

"Me too." He leaned back in his chair. "Are you hungry? We didn't eat lunch."

At the mention of food, my stomach growled. I glanced at my watch. It was already six and I hadn't eaten since a quick power bar on the way out the door that morning. That thought brought another surge of guilt. I'd missed a bunch of dinner but I hadn't even eaten breakfast with the kids on a work day for the last few weeks. In previous years' tax seasons, I had still always insisted we eat as a family every morning. I'd told Justin, "It sets the family tone for the day," and he had agreed.

Why haven't I been adamant about it this year? I knew the answer but my mind refused to accept it. I realized Tim was still looking at me. "Uh, yeah. You want to call take-out for us? I'll pay."

"Sure. Chinese all right? There's a place called Golden Dragon just down the street that I think it's pretty good. I can get a mix of things."

"That sounds good."

He grinned. "Okay, back in a few."

I watched him walk away out of the corner of my eye. He was no less attractive than he had ever been. I smiled again, thinking he was as nice of a guy as he was hot. I got back to the paperwork and immersed myself in an eye-rolling return, where the client was trying to claim farm deductions because he had a pet goat.

Tim came back about twenty minutes later with a couple of plastic bags. He cleared a space and unsacked a half-dozen paper containers. The scents of garlic and teriyaki filled the room. "Mmm, that smells good."

"Let's take a few minutes." He picked-up paper-wrapped chopsticks and offered them to me.

"No, thanks. I'm too fat-fingered for that."

He reached out and touched my hand. "I think your fingers are just fine."

I smiled nervously and picked up a plastic fork. My abdomen trembled. I blinked and focused on dinner.

We ate and chatted about the outstanding returns. Tim talked a little about his upcoming vacation and I told him that Justin and I planned on taking the kids to Myrtle Beach in the early summer. Tim said he'd been there and we'd enjoy it.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy Miami too," I said. I smiled at him. "All those women on the beach and clubs. I bet you'll have a blast."

"Maybe," he said, his gaze distant, "but I find it's better when you bring good company with you."

I didn't know what to say to that. I knew what he meant. I also knew there was no safe answer. I said, "Are you going to be able to keep up your training? What did you call it again?"

"Eskrima. It's a fighting discipline from Thailand." He grinned. "It's defensive. Lots of throws and dodges. But it's kind of rare, which is probably why you hadn't heard of it."

I listened as he described his fights. Some of it sounded far-fetched but what did I know? We ate until I felt stuffed. Tim stood and started collecting the containers. I patted my belly. "Oh, it's going to take another hour on the treadmill to work all that off."

"Nah, you're in such good shape nobody would notice a few extra pounds." Tim reached for a container right in front of me.

I laughed at his comment, then blushed.

He paused in the act of gathering the dinner debris, only two feet away. Our gazes met. I felt myself falling into the depth of those brilliant blue eyes. Breath caught in my throat. My skin felt cold and hot at the same time and my lips quivered.

Tim tilted his mouth towards mine. His eyes started to close.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I angled my head to meet his and leaned forward. I closed my eyes and my desirous heart exulted.

Except for a few texts, I hadn't spoken to Jan in two weeks. She knew I was strapped with work, and in truth, I'd been avoiding her out of guilt. If you'd asked me in advance about all the people who might have come to my mind that instant, she would have been way down the list. Maybe that's why it was such a powerful attack.

Jan's voice welled up from the depths of my soul, as loud as if she were screaming in my ear. TRISH! What the fuck are you doing?!

My eyes flew open.

Tim's face was mere millimeters away from mine. His breath, hot and eager, washed over my cheeks. I jerked back and placed my hand on his shoulder, halting him.

He opened his eyes. His confusion was evident and his voice was a whisper. "What?"

"Tim. I can't do this."

He stared at me.

His gaze made me nervous. I wormed out of my chair and fled to the bathroom. Fortunately, there were only a handful of my coworkers still in the office and I didn't encounter any of them. I pushed inside, yanked a handful of paper towels, ran them under the tap, and placed the soaked sheets on the back of my neck. The cool seeped into my skin, siphoning away the fevered desire. I looked at myself in the mirror. A lost, scared woman stared back.

The thought elicited a moment of sudden clarity. As if the curtain on a stage slowly lifted to reveal the set of the play's upcoming scene, I saw the steps I had taken—or actions I had not taken—over the last month that had put me on the road to my current moment. More than that, I saw with mounting horror where those steps were going to take me from here, and the crippling impact on my marriage, my family, and my future.

If I hadn't run out of there, I would have ended up fucking him right on the table.

The thought was horrifying but brought another one. It's an event horizon.

An event horizon is the notional boundary around a black hole where the pull of gravity is so strong that anything that crossed that spot—including light—will never escape. I hadn't understood all the physics in Justin's explanation but my takeaway was that it was a point of no return.

No return, I thought. That's what happens if I kiss him. Everything. I'll lose everything.

My eyes widened and I covered my mouth with my hand. All the distance I placed between myself and my husband flashed through the front of my mind. And for what? An infatuation? A nasty sense of self-loathing grew until it occupied my thoughts. Along with it came the first trickle of dislike for the man in the other room.

He knew I was married. My lip curled. Yeah, but I also knew I was married. I have to get out of here.

I tossed the towels in the trash and stared at myself for a moment, gathering my courage. The longer I stood there, the more ridiculous the entire thing came across and the more my attraction to him drained away. I concentrated on thinking about what kind of man would lean in to kiss a woman he knew was married. After fifteen seconds, I thought I could walk in without falling at his feet. At thirty seconds, I knew I could. After sixty seconds, I not only knew I was over Tim, I was praying I hadn't done serious damage to my marriage. I think if I had stood there for another sixty seconds, I might have been ready to throw him out the window.

If you do, throw yourself out too.

When I thought I was ready, I took a deep breath and headed back to the conference room.

Tim had gone back to his seat. He had a client's return in front of him but he stared at the far wall, his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. He stood as soon as I walked in. I thought I heard a door open down the hall but I was so focused I ignored it.

Tim faced me. "Look, Trish ... uh, I'm sorry about that."

I shook my head and reached for my purse. "I have to go."

"What? We still have a pile of work here."

"I'll take it up with Kathy tomorrow." I gathered my things without looking at him.

He moved uncomfortably close and placed his hand on my arm. I stopped and stared at him. He said, "Please don't go."

I hesitated, unsure whether to let him down lightly or shove him to the floor.

Tim grinned and tilted his head toward mine again.

I opened my mouth to tell him to let go of my arm.

"Trish?" said a familiar voice—the most familiar on the planet.

I whipped my head to the door.

Justin stood there, with Mason and Tabitha. He held the doorknob in his left hand, and Tabitha's hand in his right. Behind my daughter, Mason stood clutching a picnic basket in both hands. Both the kids looked at Tim uncertainly, displaying a child's instinctive nervousness around an adult they didn't know.

Tim jerked his hand off my arm and took a step away.

I stared at Justin, aghast. A series of emotions played across his face: incredulity, pain, anger, and disgust. His voice vibrated with restrained—and mounting—fury. "We thought we'd surprise you with dinner, since you've been working so hard. Your receptionist let us in."

My mouth worked but I was unable to speak.

Tim put on his smile and stepped forward with his hand extended. "Hi, Justin. I'm Tim. Trish has told me a ton about you."

Justin's eyes moved to Tim, who stopped in mid stride. My husband glanced at Tim's extended arm, then back at his face, with the expression of someone who just stepped in dog shit in a pair of hundred-dollar loafers. Tim stood there a moment, then lowered his arm and stepped back and went around the other side of the conference table.

If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believe it. Tim was taller than Justin, probably outweighed him by forty pounds, and was in excellent shape. And he went on and on about being some crazy-skilled martial artist. Yet one frosty look from my husband had sent him scurrying away.

Justin returned his attention to me. He said, "She has, has she? Well, I wish I could say the same about you."

I took a step toward him and raised a hand. "Justin, I—"

"Save it." He took the picnic basket from Mason. "By the way, I can see you've already eaten, so you won't need this. Chinese takeout. Hmmm. There was a time you wouldn't touch that, since you said it was less healthy than fast food. Makes me wonder what else you've done that you said you wouldn't."

My vision dimmed and my heart almost stopped. "Justin—"

"Say goodbye, guys. Mom has some more work to do. We'll see her at home."

Tabitha was too innocent to be concerned. She was just happy to see me. She smiled and waved. "Bye, Mommy." Mason looked confused at the change in plans but mumbled his goodbyes.

Justin gave Tim one more withering glance. "We'll see you at home, wife, whenever you get done with your ... work." He pulled the door shut behind them and was gone.

The closing door galvanized me to action. I grabbed my laptop and my purse. Tim started to say something but I held up my hand and he fell silent. I ran out but almost collided with Kathy. She raised he eyebrows. "Hey. Did I just see Justin leaving with the kids?"

"Yes. Kathy, I have to go."

She looked past me, into the conference room, where a chagrined Tim still stood. Kathy peered at me. "Everything all right?"

"I don't know." I hurried past her.

Justin had gotten the kids in the elevator before I got there and I didn't know where he parked but between the kids and their car seats slowing him down, I wasn't surprised when I pulled into the garage and he wasn't there yet. I had a terrified thought that he might not come home at all that night. I was debating whether or not to call our parents when I heard the garage door opening again.

The kids came running in and leaped on me. "Mommy," Tabitha said, "did you come home to eat with us?"

"Yes, sweetie, I did."

Justin came in with the basket. He set it on the table. "Trish, you eat with the kids. I have some things to do."

"But—"

"You haven't eaten with them in several days. Just do it."

I sat with my children. My heart broke as Mason slowly pulled out the containers of baked chicken and potatoes, and salad. With each dish, the kids happily told me how they'd assisted Daddy make everything. They'd been so excited to surprise me with dinner and show me the meal they helped make. I tried to keep a cheery face on with them but my mind was on my husband.

Justin must have been monitoring our progress from the other room. The moment we were done, he appeared. "All right, guys. About time to get ready for bed. Let's get you ready for bed. I'll read to you and Mom can come tuck you in after she does the dishes." He led them out of the room without another word.

I straightened up as quickly as I could before going to my children's beds. Both Mason and Tabitha commented that I gave them an extra-strong hug. As soon as I left Mason's room, I slumped against the wall, grateful for one thing at least. My babies were blissfully ignorant.

The hard part remained. I walked into our bedroom. I wasn't sure what I would find there.

As it turned out, I didn't find anything. As near as I could tell, Justin hadn't packed a bag. He hadn't collected his toiletries and moved them to another room or anything. Not that he could, since we didn't have a spare bedroom. But I'd heard the stories. I felt a little relief that he showed no signs of leaving. I quickly changed out of my jacket, blouse, and skirt, and put on a pair of pajama bottoms and a tee shirt.

I found Justin in his office. An open bottle of Blanton's Original sat on his desk and he clutched a whiskey glass half-filled with ice and amber liquid in one hand. He stared at nothing and didn't move as I came in.

I swallowed hard. He only broke out the Blanton's on serious occasions. The last time was when his uncle died. I dragged one of the other chairs in the room into his field of vision and sat. Justin watched me but didn't say a word. For several long moments, we eyed each other.

He drained his glass, set it on the desk, poured it full, and picked up again. "Well," he said, his tone flat, "at least I know now why you've been so distracted lately, and that it wasn't just my imagination."

I bowed my head, unable to look him in the eye.

"You love this guy?"

"No."

"But you ..." He left it hanging.

I raised my head and stared Justin in the eye. "Never. Not even a kiss. He tried and I pulled away."

"But you would have." It wasn't a question.

I looked away again. "I don't know."

We sat in silence again for a few minutes. Justin sipped his drink and stared away, his face blank. I dug my nails into my palms, desperately wanting him to do something. Yell at me, call me names, demand I quit my job, or even that I crawl on the floor like a dog on its belly and beg his forgiveness. Something. Anything.

"Why?"

I'd known it was coming. I also knew it was the question I least wanted to answer. "I don't know" was close to the truth but completely unacceptable. I hesitated for a moment before I said, "I'll try to answer. Before I do, please don't take this as a criticism of you. I was about me, not you, okay?"

"No promises."

"Okay." I figured that was as good as I was going to get. "Justin, I feel like we've fallen into a dull routine. We've become old married people without being old. I felt like a lot of the excitement has gone out of our life. I love our family and I'd die for you and Mason and Tabitha. But I still crave some adventure. I hate to say it, but I boil it down to: I was bored."

His lip curled. "I'm not a fucking mind reader and you never told me how you were feeling. How was I supposed to know this?"

"You weren't. I know I didn't talk to you. I should have. I wanted to so many times. Instead, I talked to Tim. Yes, he's very attractive but I got over that after a day or so. It was just us working together for long hours. He was easy to talk to. He was someone who understood the stress of tax season. He was emotional support, I know." I shook my head. "That's no excuse. I should have talked to you."

"I wish you would have."

"So do I. Jan told me I should."

The anger in his voice mirrored that on his face. "You told Jan about this before you told your husband? Well that's just fantastic. Who else?"

I tried to keep my voice level, more to suppress the hysteria gnawing at my gut. If I lost it, I knew I'd descend in a weepy ball of tears and that would be the end of the coherent conversation. "Jan only knows because she was eating lunch with me a few weeks ago. Tim walked up to the table and asked to join us. Jan gave him the brush off and noticed that I was infatuated." It almost killed me to say that but Justin deserved the ugly truth. "She pretty much told me I was being an idiot and told me to talk to you and tell you what I was feeling. She said she and Marty went through something similar and they worked it out because they talked.

I lowered my eyes. "I should have listened to her."

He didn't respond.

"Do you still love me?" I ventured.

"Yes."

"Do you know I love you?"

"I suppose so, Trish. Unfortunately, all I have is your word that nothing happened in there. You're not a very good liar, so I'm inclined to believe you but who knows. Maybe this would be the one time you got away with it."

"So what are you going to do?" I whispered, scared of the answer.

"Do you mean, am I going straight to divorce? No—not this minute, anyway. If it was only an infatuation, then that's unfair to leap to splitting up. We have Mason and Tabitha to think about. Since you say you didn't have sex with the guy, I owe it to them to at least try. You know if you had fucked or blown him, I'd be gone, right? I hope I don't find that out later that you did."

I nodded. I had a panicked thought of Tim calling Justin to torment him, lying about us, but I managed to keep that thought to myself.

Justin continued. "And in spite of everything, I do love you. I don't want a divorce. You've been the other half of my soul for as long as I can remember. If I can believe you about it not going physical, I want to treat this as temporary insanity on your part. But that does not mean I am not monumentally pissed off at you, Patricia. More than I have ever been in our entire lives."

My lower lip began to quiver. He hadn't used my full name in years. I didn't know what to say.

"You've broken my trust, Trish. Yeah, you may not have slept with him. It doesn't mean it wasn't a breech, a violation. Our intimacy went to nothing for almost a month. You shorted the kids on time. I tried to break through a few times but you were almost obsessed with this guy. You basically shunted us into second place, behind him."

"I know."

We fell silent again.

As I gazed at my husband, I felt a disconnect between us that I hadn't detected before. The thought made me sad, which quickly filled me with a sense of purpose. Justin wasn't going to make it too easy, which I understood. I'd broken his trust, so it was mostly up to me to fix it. I took stock of the situation. He hadn't done anything a lot of men in this situation would have done if they suspected their wife of an affair: he didn't hit me, yell, throw me out, or see a lawyer immediately. I shuddered when I thought about what might have happened had I not pulled away from Tim when he tried to kiss me, if Justin and the kids had walked in then.

But I did pull away and I hadn't let Tim kiss me. As much trouble as I had caused that last month, I still had a decent chance. As I thought about it, several things became immediately clear.

First, I had to get away from Tim. He was in the same company and I might have to see him again at some point—and in spite of everything, I knew I was physically attracted to him, no matter how bad for me he was. I'd be far from the first woman to sleep with a guy she didn't like because he was hot. So, with that in mind, I would speak to Kathy and see if she would let me work completely from home. If she wouldn't, I'd start looking for another job, or quit altogether if Justin thought we could manage.