The Teacher's Husband

She adamantly did not want to marry dipshit, but she felt she had to. Otherwise, what would have been the point of everything she put her family through? To destroy her marriage and burn her life to the ground for no good reason? No, at least by getting married she could pretend that everything worked out for the best.

But when Don had walked Kate towards her future husband, he knew that something was wrong. Kate seemed to be sleepwalking down the aisle. She was almost in a daze. Don had wondered if she had taken drugs but dismissed the idea. Kate had never been interested in drugs. She had disappeared before the wedding dance of the bride and groom and Emily and my mother had gone in search of her.

I shook my head at the waste of it all. I had loved Kate with a deep, romantic love that was immutable and unassailable.

Until...

So, life went on.

The girls continued in college.

My new patents proved to be winners and we were able to double our sales of the new company.

And I started dating.

People had told me I would not have trouble finding dates but I didn't believe them. My daughters had me join Tinder, Bumble, and a couple of other sites. They wrote my profile and took a couple of thousand photos to find just the right pictures for my profile. I went on several dates, but I was not happy with the women that were interested in me.

I got back into shape, losing my dad bod and returning to my college weight. I knew that I looked more than presentable and considered myself a good catch, but the women that I was dating were not what I was looking for.

My buddy Terry Carr had decided to concentrate on trusts and estate planning and was phasing out the part of his law practice that represented my business. When I asked him for a recommendation for an Austin attorney, he did not hesitate to recommend the firm that my father worked with.

"They're the best in the state, if not the country. You couldn't ask for better representation."

With that endorsement, I asked my father to set up a meeting with someone who could represent my business interests.

The attorney I met with was Elizabet Garcia.

Elizabet was not as tall as Kate, but she was also lithe and possessed an athletic build. Her hair was a deep auburn and her skin was a light tan with almond-shaped green eyes. She was exotic, she was gorgeous and there was no way that I could hire her as an attorney. Attorneys could not date clients and I was smitten with her.

After two dates we were exclusive. After six dates, we knew that we would marry. I was forty-three and Elizabet was thirty-two. Elizabet was also divorced. She had married a fellow attorney but discovered the major reason that he pursued her was in hopes of a partnership with Bonham. McLeod, Garcia. When he discovered that he would not be able to leverage his marriage to Elizabet into a position, much less a partnership; he started cheating on her. The divorce was quick and painless for Elizabet. Excruciating for her husband to the point that he decamped for California.

Marrying an older man was not a problem for Elizabet. One of her ancestors, Angelica Garcia had been ten years younger than her husband, Robert Bonham, who had founded the law firm of Bonham, McLeod, Garcia nearly two hundred years ago.

As I dated Elizabet, I occasionally would think about my old life; married to Kate and living in Fort Worth with my daughters and my company. My parents and Kate's parents living close to us and just a short car ride away. I thought I had a lock on happiness. But things change.

My parents were divorced. I barely spoke to my mother; when I did, she would whine about reconciling with Kate.

Kate's parents were having a rocky time of it and from what I had heard, divorce was on the table. They missed their granddaughters and the old life they had.

And Kate? After checking out of the hospital, she moved back in with her parents. Dipshit was not happy about that. His unhappiness was compounded when she filed for an annulment of the marriage.

Eighteen months after our divorce was finalized, and fifteen months after her suicide attempt, Kate appeared at my front door.

When I answered the doorbell that Saturday morning, I was shocked to find my ex-wife standing there with a roll-a-round suitcase standing next to her.

"Kate? What are you doing here?" I asked. I was dumbfounded by her presence.

"I know I have a lot to make up for. I was the worst wife in the world and a terrible mother to our daughters. I'm here to set things right."

I had no clue as to what to say to this statement. I just stood there with my mouth open,

"Honey, who's at the door?" My wife's voice brought me to my senses. Elizabet strode into the entryway. She was wearing navy yoga pants and a white tank, top, her baby bump leading the way. I had my vasectomy reversed after our return from our honeymoon since I knew Elizabet wanted a child, however, I thought I might be too old. She convinced me I was not.

I looked at Kate standing in the doorway and then at my wife standing in the foyer, a curious expression on her face.

"Someone I used to be married to," I replied as I gently closed the door.