Over Breakfast, My Cheating Wife Casually Confessed to Sleeping With Her Boss—And I Snapped....

They say the husband is always the last to know. In my case, that may or may not have been true. The only thing that was true was that I actually found out, and not by chance nor from a friend or one of my wife's enemies. No, I learned—at first, and so to speak. It happened at breakfast after a restless, stormy night. I was finishing my second cup of coffee when my wife, Iris, casually dropped a bombshell. "Yesterday, my boss invited me to lunch," she began. "We ended up in a hotel room and spent most

of the day there. I loved it, and we'll probably do it again." I froze, silent for a few seconds, and then I asked, "Why were you close to me last night? Do you like giving me sloppy seconds?" "I didn't give you any seconds," she replied defensively. "I was careful. I cleaned myself up pretty well before we finished." "And yet," I shot back, "you came to me just a few hours after being with him. Careful or not, that means seconds. I guess you just felt a little guilty, huh?" Her voice faltered slightly. "Oh damn, I don't

know what I was thinking. I just felt the need to make love to you. I guess I wanted to see if anything had changed." "But nothing had," I interrupted. "I still enjoy making love to you." "Making love?" I repeated, horrified. "You just told me you cheated with your boss, and you're going to do it again? Where's the love in that?" "It was a figure of speech, Frank," she said casually. "Anyway, I'm telling you this to give you time to decide what you want to do in case you don't want me around anymore." "Why would I

want you around?" I snapped. "When you can tell me this so easily? I need time to think about what I want to do, and you need to move into one of the other bedrooms." "That's not necessary, Frank," she replied. "I just told you I enjoy making love to you." "Maybe so," I countered, "but I have no idea what other women your boss is sleeping with. I want to make damn sure you don't give me something he's given you. I just hope it's not too late. You could have given me a gift from him last night."

Her face went pale when I mentioned other women, clearly implying she hadn't considered that possibility. She stammered, "He wouldn't do anything that would make him sick. He has to be careful because of his wife." I shook my head in disgust and stood up from the table, preparing to leave for work. After my shower, I found Iris sitting on the bed, waiting for me. "When I told you I was hoping you'd say we need to talk about this," she said softly. "What is there to talk about?" I replied coldly. "You cheated on me and then casually

threw it in my face. If you can be this calm about it, I have to wonder: was this really the first time, or just another in a long line? How do I know you were really working all those nights you said you were staying late? You spent most of the day in a hotel room with Ted, so how do I know you're not spending afternoons in hotel rooms a couple of times a week? How do I know Ted's the only one?" "Iris, there's nothing to talk about," I paused, then added, "Well, maybe there's one thing

we need to decide: how to tell Dave and Marcy. And of course, your family and mine will have to let them all know, and I want everyone to understand it wasn't me who ruined this marriage; it was you." "It doesn't have to be like that, Frank," she protested. "I love you, and other than yesterday with Ted, I've never cheated on you. Yesterday, it just happened. It was spontaneous. I did it because I wanted to be something more than just the mother and housewife I've been for the past 24 years. I wanted to do something wild

and vicious at least once in my life. I did it, and I liked it. But it had nothing to do with any feelings for Ted. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time." "Maybe not, Iris," I said coldly, "but it sure as hell made my feelings for you a lot less. And don't forget, you said you'd probably do it again." Her face crumpled as I continued, "I have no idea what I'm going to do until I talk to a lawyer, but you can consider our marriage over. No matter how much

we talk, I'll never be able to trust you again." After tying a Windsor knot in my tie, I left the room and went to work. But work wasn't on my mind that day. My company didn't get much productivity out of me. Instead, I scoured the Yellow Pages for a lawyer near my office, found one, and called. He was able to meet with me the next day after lunch, so I made an appointment. As I wrote it in my diary, I noticed the date: it was a week before our 24th anniversary. "Well," I thought bitterly, "this

year I won't have to spend money on a card." After work, I headed home. Frankly, I had nowhere else to go; the idea of drowning my sorrows at a bar didn't appeal to me, and I wasn't interested in finding a friend to vent to. Iris usually got home before me and had dinner ready, and that evening was no different. She had set the table and even opened a bottle of wine. I didn't know what she was hoping for, but whatever it was, she wasn't likely to get it given how I was feeling. I suppose I

could have... Gone into the office to avoid her and the dinner she prepared, but I was hungry, and it was ready. I poured myself a glass of wine, sat down at the table, and started eating. Dinner was meatloaf, gravy, mashed potatoes, and salad. I ate in silence. I could see Iris fidgeting, trying to work up the courage to say something. I hoped she wouldn't speak until I'd finished eating; at least that way, I could leave the room on a full stomach. Unfortunately, this wasn't destined to happen. I had just put a forkful of salad into

my mouth when Iris broke the silence. "What if I told you this will never happen again? Would that change anything?" I wasn't the type to talk with my mouth full, so I didn't respond immediately. I kept chewing as she fidgeted some more. Then she added, "It was a mistake, Frank, a huge mistake that I deeply regret. In 24 years of marriage, Frank, one bad thing has happened. Can't you bring yourself to forgive me for just one bad thing in all those years? Is it really possible that what we've shared for 24 years should be lost,

thrown away because of one stupid mistake?" By then, I had finished chewing and swallowed. "It wasn't just one mistake, Iris," I said calmly. "The first mistake was when you let another man be with you, and I don't even know if Ted was the first or if yesterday was the first time you were with him. The second mistake was telling me about it. If you had just kept your mouth shut, we wouldn't be sitting here in this tense situation. And your third mistake—and it was a big one—was telling me you liked it and might do it

again. So, to answer your question, yes, what we've experienced over the last 24 years is destroyed because of what you did. You've completely lost my trust, Iris, and a marriage cannot exist without trust—not the kind of marriage I want to be in." Iris stood up from the table crying and left the room. I took a sip of wine and calmly finished my dinner. Afterward, I cleaned up the kitchen and then went to my room to play on the computer for a while. When I went upstairs to bed, I noticed that Iris had moved her things

into Marcy's old room. She probably chose Marcy's room because Marcy had no intention of using it anytime soon. Marcy was married and living in California; she only stayed in her old room when she visited. Dave still used his room during vacations and could return home anytime, so Marcy's room was the logical choice for Iris to move into. The next morning, I didn't see Iris. I stopped for breakfast at the village inn before heading to work. When I got to the office, I waited until 9:00, when the workday officially began at Wallish and Teen, and then

I made a call. When the secretary answered, I asked to speak to Ted Harau. When Ted came on the line and said hello, I wasted no time. "This is Rob MIRS, Ted," I said. "Iris told me about your afternoon romp at the hotel. I just wanted to let you know I'm kicking her out, and she's all yours now. Oh, and one more thing," I added, "since we're on the topic, you should know I'm pissed, and I'll be looking for you. Make sure your health insurance is up to date because you'll need it." Before he could

say a word, I hung up the phone. I didn't rush to find him immediately; let him spend his time looking over his shoulder, wondering if I was hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce. At 3:00 that afternoon, I received some bad news from my lawyer. He explained that in our state, no one could be blamed for anything in a divorce. This meant everything would be divided equally. Iris and I made about the same amount of money, so there likely wouldn't be any alimony. Our children were grown and living independently, so child support wouldn't be part

of the equation either. The only potential complication might come from our pension funds, but since we each had one at work, the lawyer suggested they would probably offset each other. All in all, it would be a straightforward divorce—if divorces could ever be considered straightforward. The lawyer then brought up the possibility of suing Ted under an alienation of affection claim. He even suggested we might be able to sue Wallish and Teen if their company policy prohibited intimate relationships between employees. But I rejected the idea; it seemed wrong to me. Holding Wallish and Teen responsible for what

Ted and Iris did didn't feel right. Besides, if we sued the company and they fired both of them, Iris might lose her job, and I'd likely end up paying alimony. I told the lawyer to proceed with the divorce papers and to file a lawsuit directly against Ted Harau. By the time I left the lawyer's office, it was past 5:00. There was no point in going back to work, so I headed home. On the way, I thought about the division of property. We had significant equity in the house, but it was still three years from being

fully paid off. Did I want to buy out Iris's share and keep the house? Probably not. What would a single man do with a large four-bedroom house? And even if I stayed, every corner of that house would be a constant reminder of what life was like before Iris betrayed me. So that left two options: Iris could buy out my share, or we could put the house up for sale. When I got home, dinner was already prepared, and I sat down to eat. I could tell Iris wanted to... "Say something," but she couldn't bring herself to

speak. I finished eating and was about to leave the table when she finally spoke. “Ted told me you called him today and threatened him.” “Not true,” I replied calmly. “I didn't threaten him; I made him a promise.” “You'll only get yourself into trouble, Rob. You could end up in jail.” “Why should you care?” I shot back. “I wouldn't interfere with your plans; you'd have more time for hotel rendezvous with your favorite guy, assuming I leave him in one piece.” “Please don't do this, Rob. Please, for me,” she said, her voice trembling. I laughed bitterly. “For

you? Let me tell you what I did for you today. I met with a lawyer and started filing the divorce papers. You can tell your lover that you won't be able to hide behind your skirts much longer.” “I wasn't thinking about him,” she said softly. “I don't want you to go to jail because of my stupidity.” “I wouldn't mind,” I replied coldly. “I'd sit in prison and smile, thinking about how you'd feel knowing you were responsible for putting me there. Imagine how excited I'd be to tell Dave and Marcy that you sent their father to

jail.” “Don't you dare say that, Rob!” she exclaimed, her voice breaking. “Why not?” I said, my voice rising. “I've already told you I'm going to make sure everyone knows this marriage was destroyed because of you. Get ready, Iris; you'll have a lot of people asking you why you threw away 24 years of marriage. Oh, and one more thing: start thinking about what you want to do with the house. I don't want it, so if you do, you'll have to buy out my share; otherwise, it'll go on the market.” “Sell the house? Oh God, Rob, no!

We can't do that!” “Then figure out how to buy my share,” I said flatly, leaving her sitting at the table. I went into the living room and spent the rest of the evening playing on the computer. The next morning, I left the house before Iris woke up. At work, I spoke with Barney, my boss, and explained the situation. I told him I might need to take time off occasionally for lawyer appointments, court appearances, and other matters. He wished me luck and assured me I could take as much time as needed. When I returned home that

evening, Iris wasn't there. I warmed up some leftovers, then watched TV. The phone rang, and I picked it up. It was my daughter, Marcy. “Mom called me,” she began, “and said you were leaving her. Did she tell you why?” “She just said it was all her fault,” Marc replied. “What happened?” “Let's leave it at that,” I said. “It was her fault. I was going to call you and Dave to explain everything, but if she's already admitted it, that's enough.” “Is there any chance you two can work this out?” she asked hesitantly. “No chance at all,”

I said firmly. “Why, Dad? You and Mom were so deeply in love!” “The key word, baby, is 'were,'” I replied gently. “How are you doing?” “I'm fine. I'd come home to help, but I'm busy with an important project at work and can't get away.” “It's okay, honey. There's nothing you can do anyway. You don't need to call Dave; Mom already called him, and he called me to ask what I knew. Take care of yourself, Daddy. I love you.” “I love you too, honey. I'll talk to you soon.” Three minutes after I hung up, Dave called.

The conversation went much the same way as it had with Marcy. Just as I ended the call with Dave, Iris came home. “Out late tonight,” I remarked sarcastically. “Were you with her?” “No, Rob,” she said tiredly. “For your information, after work, I visited your parents and mine. I told them about the impending divorce and made it clear it was all my fault. I didn't go into details; I just told them you hadn't done anything wrong.” “Good,” I replied curtly. She sighed. “Now, if you don't mind, I'll go to my room and pass out.” I saw

tears running down her cheeks as she turned and headed upstairs. A week ago, the sight of her crying might have made me rush to her side to comfort her, to hold her in my arms. But now, I just watched her go. The next morning at work, Barney called me into his office. “Are you worried about the divorce? Is there any chance it might not happen? How are you both dealing with everything?” “There's not the slightest chance this divorce won't happen,” I replied. “Why do you ask?” “Well, your kids are grown and out of the house,

right? Nothing really ties you here except your parents and sister. I just found out that O'Brien is retiring, and I need someone to replace him in the Santa Monica office. How would you feel about moving to California? The job is yours if you're willing to relocate.” I blinked in surprise. “Are you kidding? There are guys here more experienced than me who would kill for this job.” “Perhaps,” Barney said with a shrug, “but just because they're more experienced doesn't mean they can handle the job. I took a close look at everyone, and you're my choice.” “I'll

do it,” I said immediately. “When do you need me there?” “O'Brien gave a month's notice starting yesterday. I'd like you to be there during his last week so he can bring you up to speed.” “I'll start making arrangements right away.” The first thing I did when I got back to my office was call my lawyer to ask how the move might affect the divorce. “It depends on whether she resists or not,” he explained. “If she resists, you might have to fly back and forth.” Frequently, for meetings, hearings, and other proceedings, if she doesn't resist, there

shouldn't be any issues. How can she fight this? I thought the whole point of no-fault divorces was to get rid of all that crap. That's usually true, but only if both parties agree to the divorce. If she doesn't want a divorce, she can argue that the marriage can be saved with counseling, and the court may agree to delay proceedings. It wouldn't stop the divorce, but it could make it more expensive and time-consuming. Sometimes, that's enough to make the person filing for divorce reconsider. “Well, I'm not stopping,” I said firmly. “What about serving both her and

her? Are the documents ready?” “They're ready; I just need your consent.” “Do it this afternoon if possible.” “Consider it done,” he said. At 3:00 p.m., he called to let me know that the documents had been served at 2:35. When I got home, Iris was sitting in the living room. It was clear from her red, puffy eyes that she had been crying. She looked up at me as I entered the room. “You did it,” she said, her voice trembling. “You really did it. I can't believe you threw away 24 wonderful years because of one mistake.” “You

still don't get it, do you?” I replied coldly. “It wasn't just that you slept with her. It was just the way you threw it in my face. You looked me straight in the eyes and told me you loved it and might even do it again. Understand this, Iris: I didn't throw away 24 years; you did. You need to figure out what you want to do with the house because in two weeks I won't be here.” I left the room, went to the kitchen, and took some leftovers from the refrigerator. After eating, I went to my

office and called Marcy in California. After the usual greetings, I said, “I don't know if this is good news or not, but I'm moving to California in about two weeks.” “You and Mom?” she asked, surprised. “Just me.” “Today? I filed divorce papers with her.” Dad, she said softly. “I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?” “Yes, actually. Could you start looking at apartments or condos near Santa Monica? Also, find me a hotel or motel where I can stay temporarily when I first arrive.” “Not a chance, Dad,” she said firmly. “You're staying with

me. There's no way I'm letting you stay in a motel.” “Won't that be inconvenient for you and Alan?” I asked. “Not at all. Don't worry about Alan; he's completely fine with it.” “If you're sure.” “I'm completely sure. I'm looking forward to seeing you.” “I'm looking forward to seeing you too, baby. I'll call you once everything is settled.” The next morning, when I came downstairs, Iris was already up and sitting at the kitchen table. “Good morning,” she said. I didn't reply, pouring myself a cup of coffee. “I've decided I don't need this house if I don't

have you to share it with,” she said suddenly. “I'll call the realtor this morning and start making arrangements.” “It doesn't have to be this way, Frank,” she said, her voice breaking. “Sorry, Iris, but it does,” I replied. I poured the coffee into a travel mug and left for work. From the office, I called a real estate agent and scheduled a meeting at the house for 1:00 p.m. By 3:00, the process of selling the house was already in motion. On the way home, I stopped at a U-Haul store and bought a few boxes to start packing.

When I arrived home, Iris wasn't there, but she'd left a note on the kitchen table saying she would be staying with her sister for a few days. That evening, I spent my time packing and moving boxes into the garage. By the time I went to bed, most of the work was done. All that remained was to pack up my office and the clothes I'd need over the next two weeks. The next day, my lawyer called me. “I've heard from her,” he said. “He claims we're very stupid because we don't have any evidence. All we have

is what your wife told you, and he says he'll deny everything.” “I hate to admit it,” he added, “but he's right.” “Don't stop the lawsuit,” I replied. “Is there any way we can find something useful?” “I'll see what I can do,” the lawyer said. “Let me think about it.” I spent the next two days preparing for the move. Iris was still staying with her sister, so when I got home from work, I called her sister's house and asked to speak with her. When she got on the phone, I said, “We need to talk. Can you

come back so we can sit down and have an honest conversation?” “I'll come in,” she replied, “but I won't stay.” Iris arrived at 7:00 that evening. I made coffee, and we sat down at the kitchen table. I told her about my move to the coast and handed her the real estate agent's card, explaining that she would need to handle the sale of the house. I promised to come back for the closing once the house sold. I also told her I'd be staying with Marcy in California until I found a place to live and that she

could contact me there if needed. Then I asked her the $64,000 question: “Why, Iris? Why did you cheat on me, and why with Ted?” “I told you, Rob. It just happened. It was spontaneous.” “I don't understand, Iris. How could something like that just happen so suddenly?” “I don't want to talk about it,” Rob, she said, looking down. “It was a stupid thing to do, and it cost me you.” “You may not want to talk about it, Iris,” I pressed, but I... need to know: was I such a bad husband that you felt the need to

do this? Was I so terrible in bed that you had to turn to someone else? “It wasn't like that, Rob, nothing like that,” she said quickly. “I can't explain how I felt when it happened. Ted invited me to lunch, and I thought nothing of it until he made a move on me, which completely caught me off guard. He'd never shown any interest in me before. Then he asked me if I had ever cheated on you. I told him no and I asked why he’d even ask such a thing. He told me he’d always had a

thing for me and that since we were having lunch at a hotel restaurant with rooms upstairs, he decided to take a shot. If I had cheated before, maybe I would have done it again. I think I surprised him when I asked him to pay the bill and get us a room. I know it doesn't make sense to you, but like I said, I wanted to be something more than just a wife and mother; at least once in my life, I wanted to do something exciting and wicked, and Ted reaching out to me gave me that

chance.” “But why him, Iris? Why exactly with Ted?” “It just so happened that he was in the right place at the right time and he was the one who made the offer.” “Then why did you tell me you liked it and were planning to do it again?” I asked, my voice rising. “Was he such a great lover?” “No, it wasn't that,” she admitted. “It wasn't better with Ted; it wasn't even good.” I said, “I'd probably do it again because I wanted more excitement. Telling you about Ted and me—that was another stupid thing I did, by

the way. I'm so confused.” She continued, “On one hand, it was the betrayal that made me feel so guilty, but it was the guilt from the betrayal that made me confess. When I confessed, I thought we could have a conversation like this and I could convince you that my one night outside our marriage wouldn't harm us. I thought it could just be something private with Ted and you and I could still keep the love we've shared for 24 years. I was sure you'd understand that you’d see how much I love you, and that you'd let

me get rid of this reckless feeling. I thought you'd realize Ted wasn't even that good in bed; it was the deception that made it seem exciting. After a couple of times, I thought I'd be over it, but now I know I should have kept my mouth shut. If I had let the relationship with Ted fizzle out naturally, you'd still be with me; you would never have known.” “Does this conversation mean you might change your mind?” she asked hesitantly. “No way, Iris,” I said firmly. “I told you before this marriage is over. But this conversation did

help me calm down. Now I know that nothing I did or didn't do caused you to cheat, and knowing that will help me sleep better.” Iris stood up and left the house. After she was gone, I stood up, reached under the kitchen table, and turned off the tape recorder I had hidden there. The next day, I made a couple of copies of the recording and dropped one off at my lawyer's office. I intended to give the second copy to Ted, but I decided to wait until after the lawsuit was resolved. The following week was a

busy one. I spent my time bringing my replacement at work up to speed and preparing for the move. The house was officially listed for sale, and two couples had already expressed interest in seeing it. The sale of the house progressed smoothly, and on my last Friday in town, the office staff threw me a going-away party at a lounge just down the street. The next afternoon, I was in a U-Haul truck heading to California. About an hour from my destination, I called Marcy to get directions to her house. She must have been watching for me because

as I pulled up and parked, she ran out the door to greet me. She gave me a big hug, then helped me unhook the car from the trailer. Afterward, we drove to the storage warehouse where I moved the items from the truck into the rented space. From there, we headed to the local U-Haul dealer to drop off the truck and trailer. “On your first night here, we'll go out to dinner,” Marcy said as we drove back to her house, “and then I'll show you around.” “What time will Alan be home?” I asked. “Alan's not coming,”

she said, her voice turning serious. “I kicked him to the curb when I caught him spending the night with the woman who lives next door.” “There's no chance you two will work things out?” I asked. “About the same chance as you and Mom getting back together,” she replied with a wry smile. I looked at her curiously. “Nobody told me, Dad,” she said, answering my unspoken question. “But I know you, and I know what kind of person you are. There's only one reason that could make you leave. Then Mom called me and admitted it was her

fault you broke up. Oh, and the neighbor's husband got involved when he found out about Alan. Let's just say there wasn't much left of him after that.” “Why didn't you let us know what was going on?” I asked. “I was embarrassed, or maybe ashamed. You and Mom had more than 20 years together, and I couldn't even make it three.” We went out for dinner and enjoyed a pleasant meal. Afterward, Marcy took me on a tour of... the area we eventually ended up at a place called The Blue Grotto. It was a nice spot with a

great live band. Marcy seemed to be well known there; before we could even sit down, several guys and girls came over to say hello. She introduced me to a few ladies, and then, to my surprise, she started letting some of them know that I was available. "Why would you do that?" I asked, mildly annoyed. "Dad, if you're going to hang out with me, you can't just be a wallflower," she teased. "I spend a lot of time on the dance floor with some of the guys here, and it wouldn't be right to leave you sitting alone

at the table. Don't worry; you won't have to make any effort. The girls here are very persistent, and they'll come to you." "I don't know, honey. This really isn't my scene." "It may not feel like it now, but this is exactly what you need right now. It'll give you some of your life back." As if on cue, a pretty blonde approached our table and asked, "Can I have this dance with your dad?" Marcy laughed and said, "See what I mean?" For the rest of the evening, I danced with five different women. Two of them even

gave me their phone numbers and asked me to call them. I have to admit, after what Iris did to me, it was a huge boost to my ego. While Iris had claimed I had no flaws, deep down I had doubts. In the end, though, she left me for another man. On the drive back to Marcy's house, I asked her if she'd found any suitable apartments for me. "I found a few," she said, "but you don't need them. You're staying with me." "I don't think that'll work, honey," I replied. "Why not?" she asked, puzzled. "Well, I

saw you dancing with some of those guys tonight, and I wouldn't want to interfere with your love life." "Don't be ridiculous, Dad," she said with a laugh. "Those guys have their own places." "Yes, but what if I decide I want to spread some of my pollen?" I joked. "We're adults, Dad. You have your own room. We can handle it." The next week was very busy. I settled into my new job and got to know the people who would be working under me. Barney must have told Pat O'Brien something before I arrived, and word spread quickly.

There were three single women in the office, and I noticed that two of them showed some interest in me. As attractive as they were, there was no way I was going to have an affair in the workplace. That wasn't going to happen. On Friday night, Marcy and I went back to The Grotto. I had to admit I had a great time. Anna, one of the women who had given me her number the previous weekend, joined us at the table and asked, "Why didn't you call me?" "I've been busy settling in, starting my new job, and

getting used to the area," I replied honestly. "I almost let Marcy talk me out of coming here tonight." "Well, you're here now," Anna said with a smile, "so let's pretend you called me and we agreed to meet here." Marcy laughed and said, "You're on your own now, Dad. If I were you, I'd just give up and go with it." Taking Marcy's advice, I spent a very pleasant evening with Anna. When the last bell rang, Marcy handed me her car keys and said, "Don't wait up for me. Tomorrow's Saturday, and I don't have anything to do.

You probably won't see me until noon." As Marcy left with one of the guys she'd been dancing with, Anna leaned over and said, "I thought she was telling you that you wouldn't be interrupted if you..." I knew exactly what Anna was hinting at, and it caused a small war in my head. "You can't," I thought. "You're still a married man." "No," another voice countered, "you're separated and going through a divorce. You're as good as a bachelor." I didn't understand why I was so hesitant; even my own daughter encouraged me to move on. Besides, Iris had

broken her marriage vows. Didn't that free me from mine? In the end, the thought "no one is sleeping with you" tipped the scales in Anna's favor, and boy was I glad it did. The next morning, over pancakes and bacon, Anna casually made her position clear. "I'm not suited for marriage," she said. "I don't have the temperament to live with just one person. I tried once, and it didn't work out." But she added, with a playful smile, "I can be a great friend with benefits." "If last night was any indication," I said, "the benefits are definitely

worth it. Can I apply for a spot on the waiting list?" She grinned. "Actually, you interviewed for the position last night, and you got the job." I drove her home and returned to Marcy's house. When I walked in, Marcy was waiting for me with a big smile. She made an okay sign with her thumb and forefinger, looking at me questioningly. I smiled back and said, "Very..." For the next two months, I saw Anna two or three times a week. It was easy, light-hearted, and exactly what I needed. But one Sunday morning, she broke the news.

"Tonight's our last night together," she said. "I got a promotion, and I'm moving to Atlanta." It was a huge disappointment. I'd grown used to our relationship and had hoped it would last a lot longer. Marcy noticed my mood and tried to cheer me up. "Even though you're going to miss Anna, I wouldn't worry too much," she said. "You've got a replacement waiting in the wings. Anna's been telling all the girls at The Grotto how wonderful... You are. If I had any money, I'd bet everything that by the end of the week you'll have a new

girlfriend. She was right. The following Friday, we'd barely sat down at our table in The Grotto before women started coming up to invite me to dance. One of them, a stunning brunette named Melissa, or Mel, as she introduced herself, invited me to dance four times. The last dance of the evening was a slow one: "Nights in White Satin." As we moved slowly around the floor, she looked me in the eyes and said, "I want to be with you tonight." Marcy had left about an hour earlier, telling me not to expect her until noon the next

day, so I told Mel yes. "I have to be home before 9:00," she added. "I take care of my mother. She's disabled and needs a lot of care." "Next Friday night?" I asked. "Absolutely," she said with a smile. For the next two months, Mel became my new friend with benefits. We could only see each other on Thursdays and Fridays because she worked in the afternoons, and those were her days off. But one Monday evening, as I was leaving work, my time with Mel came to an abrupt halt. As I approached my car in the parking

lot, I saw a man leaning against it. He straightened up as I walked over and said, "You came just in time." "Do we know each other?" I asked, confused. "No," he said coldly, "but you're going to regret ever meeting me." "What's this all about?" "I'm going to kick your ass, big time," he said, glaring at me. I looked him up and down. "Maybe it won't be so easy for you. Can you at least tell me why you want to try?" "Because you're sleeping with my wife, that's why." I froze. "I'm not sleeping with anyone's wife,"

I said firmly. "Are you telling me Mel is married?" "Damn right she is. She's been married to me for 10 years." "If that's true," I said, "then I didn't know. She doesn't wear a ring, and no one at The Grotto ever mentioned she was married. But I'll tell you this: if you kick her out, I'll take her in." He looked at me like I was crazy. "Why the hell would you do something so stupid? If she cheats on me, she'll cheat on you too." "Did you ask her why she cheated?" I shot back. "You need

to find out why." He hesitated, and I pressed on. "All I know is if I take her in, I sure as hell won't give her a reason to cheat. But I'll say this: now that I know she's married, I'll stay away from her until you two figure things out. But I have a question for you: how does she leave home every Friday and Saturday night and disappear without you knowing?" He sighed. "I drive a truck. I'm away from home from Thursday to Sunday." He glared at me again, but instead of attacking, he turned and walked

away. I spent the next week thinking about who might replace Mel. On Friday, I went back to The Grotto. About half an hour after I arrived, Mel came in, saw me, and walked straight to my table. She sat down and said, "I understand you've been seeing Roy." "If Roy's your husband, then yes, we've met." "Does this stop us from having fun?" "That depends," I replied. "On what?" "I told him I'd stay away from you until he decided what to do." "Has he kicked you out yet?" "No, and he won't kick me out because he loves

me," she said confidently. "Then we can't be together." "Why not?" she asked, surprised. "Because you're married," I said firmly. "If I'd known that from the start, I would have never begun anything with you. I would never knowingly do to another man what my wife and her lover did to me." Mel looked at me for a moment, then said, "I don't think so. I think I'm just doing with you what Roy refused to do with me. I love that man, but I need more. You and I have a great thing, and I don't want to stop."

"Sorry, Mel," I said, "but if Roy doesn't tell me he's kicked you out, we're done." She stared at me for a few seconds, then got up and moved to another table. Five minutes later, a guy was sitting next to her. I danced with several other women that night but made no effort to speak to them afterward. About an hour before close, the guy sitting with Mel went to the restroom, and Mel stood up and walked back over to me. "Last chance," she said. "Sorry, Mel," I replied. "You know my position on this." "Your loss," she

said before returning to her table. When the guy came back, they left together. That night changed many things for me, but not my resolve. Around 4:00 a.m., I was jolted awake by loud knocking on the wall between Marcy's bedroom and the one I was sleeping in. It took me half an hour to fall back asleep, and when I woke up, my plan for the day was to find an apartment. Marcy was in the kitchen making breakfast when I walked in. As I poured myself a cup of coffee, she smiled at me. "Did you sleep well?"

she asked innocently. I decided not to tell her that she'd woken me up, so I just said, "Like a rock." It was Saturday, and I spent most of the day apartment hunting. I found a place I liked and completed the paperwork. When I got back to Marcy's, she greeted me with some news. "Mom called," she said. "You need to call her back." "For what?" "She said there's a contract on the house." And she said she'll send you the Power of Attorney papers by mail. If you can't come to the closing, call her—dead. It won't kill

you. I hadn't spoken to Iris since I moved to California, and I wasn't sure I wanted to hear her voice again. Avoiding contact with her had helped me move on, or at least it felt that way. But the truth? I still loved her. Damn it, I loved her so much it hurt. I thought about her constantly; I even thought about her when I was with Anna or Mel. The last thing I wanted was to hear her voice again, but Marcy handed me the phone and said, "Call her." I should have said no; I should have

walked away. But I didn't. I dialed my old home number. The phone rang four times before I heard her voice. "Hello?" "Hello, Iris." "Marcy said you called and wanted to talk to me. What's going on? How are you?" Frank, she asked softly. "I'm fine, Iris. What did you want to talk about?" "I miss you." Frank, the words hit me like a freight train. Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out. "I miss you too, Iris." There was a long pause. "Oh my God, Frank. Are you serious? What's this about?" "The house," I asked, trying

to steer the conversation. She hesitated, then said, "We have a buyer. I waited to call until the financing was settled. The closing is scheduled for the 12th at 2:00 p.m. Can you come?" "I don't know," I said truthfully. "That's only six days away. I'll see what I can do and let you know." "I hope you can make it," she said quietly. "We'll see, Iris," I replied. "I'll call you tomorrow." After I hung up, I sat there wondering why I didn't just tell her to handle everything with the Power of Attorney. Marcy saw the look on

my face and asked, "What's wrong, Dad? What are you thinking about?" I shrugged. "I'm trying to decide whether I should go back or just send the Power of Attorney." "Why don't you want to go back?" "Just hearing your mother's voice was hard enough," I admitted. "I don't know if I can handle seeing her." Marcy sighed. "When are you going to be honest with yourself, Dad?" "What do you mean by that?" "I saw the look on your face when you were talking to Mom," she said. "Do you miss her?" I didn't answer, and she pressed on.

"I don't know exactly what happened between you two, other than the fact that it hurt you a lot, but not being with her is hurting you too. I wasn't going to tell you this, but Mom calls me a couple of times a week to ask how you're doing. She's miserable, Dad. She misses you like crazy. It's been a few months now, Dad. Maybe you're strong enough to see her again. You need to go back, Daddy. It won't kill you." Marcy said, handing me the phone to call Iris. After the call, I looked at Marcy and

said, "Since we're talking about what I need to do, you should know I'm looking for my own place." "Why?" "Well, we've made it work so far, but it's time for us both to have some space." Sudden understanding crossed her face, and she blushed. "I need to check on dinner," she said quickly, hurrying out of the room. After a quiet dinner, Marcy asked, "Are you going to The Grotto tonight?" "No, I think I'll just sit in front of the TV for a while." "The ladies will be disappointed," she teased. "I know a couple of them who

are itching to take your place, Melissa," I chuckled and said. "Your words make no sense, little girl. On one hand, you're telling me to go home and reconcile with your mom, and on the other, you're trying to set me up with your friends at The Grotto." "That's not what I'm saying," Mar protested. "I don't even know if it's possible for you and Mom to make peace. What I meant is that you need to find some closure and come to an agreement with her." "Well, I'm staying home tonight anyway. I need to pack my things. I

found a place to live, and all I'm waiting for is the credit check on Monday." I got a call at work confirming my approval for the apartment. That evening, I began moving in. I'd rented a two-bedroom apartment, intending to turn the second bedroom into a home office. Marcy insisted on helping me, and as we brought things in, she made comments like, "I have the perfect curtains for this room," and, "Ugh, the carpet is a terrible color; you should ask them to replace it." She helped me set up the kitchen, then went home, leaving me to

spend my first night in the new place. The next day, after sorting out my belongings, it was decision time: Should I return for the closing or fax my Power of Attorney? After much deliberation, I decided to go back. I picked up the phone and called Iris. "Hello, it's me," I said. "I've decided to come back for the closing instead of sending the Power of Attorney." "Where will the closing take place?" "In the conference room at First Bank on Shephard Street at 2:00 p.m.," I replied. "I'll prepare a spare bedroom for you," she said. "I don't

think that's a good idea. I'll stay at a hotel near the bank." "Don't be silly, Frank," she said firmly. "There's no need to spend money on a hotel when you have a four-bedroom home." "I'll think about it. See you at the bank. Goodbye." During the return flight, I couldn't stop thinking about my last conversation with Mel and, more importantly, about Iris. Mel had walked away from Roy because she... wasn't satisfied. Was Iris's betrayal motivated by the same unmet needs? Iris had said her affair wasn't because I was bad in bed, but because she wanted to

do something wild and naughty for once in her life. Was that the truth, or was it a lie to spare my feelings? Would I ever know the real reason she turned to Ted Harra? When I arrived at the bank's conference room, Iris was already there. She smiled when I walked in and stood up, moving toward me. I quickly moved to the other side of the table, keeping a barrier between us. Her smile faltered slightly, but I noticed how carefully she dressed for the occasion. She wore my favorite dress, her prettiest heels, and had styled her

hair just the way I liked it. Before she could say anything, others entered the room, and we began the paperwork. When it was all over, I had a check in my pocket for $873.62. The $36 didn't matter, but who counted them anyway? As we left the room, Iris asked, "Will you stay? You don't have to leave before 3 p.m." "No," I said. "I have a few more things to do, and we try to catch a late flight back to the coast." Disappointment crossed her face. "Will you ever forgive me?" "Frank, I don't know." "No, Iris,"

I said honestly. "You hurt me deeply. Maybe the pain will fade with time, but I don't know." She stood there watching me walk away. It was hard to leave, and I admitted to myself that I wanted to turn around and take her in my arms. But the voice in my head spoke up: "Calm down, Frank. She slept with another man, but you've done the same with Anna and Mel. One justifies the other." I forced myself to ignore that voice. At 5:00 p.m., I parked at the end of the block and waited. Soon, Harra walked out

of the building and got into his car. I followed him at a safe distance. My lawyer had told me that the lawsuit against Harra wasn't going well; he refused to settle and threatened to declare bankruptcy if he lost in court, which would make it impossible to collect any damages. Harra pulled into a bar parking lot, and I parked nearby, waiting to see what would happen next. When I saw Ted Harra walk through the door of the Grotto, I froze for a moment. Mel noticed my reaction and turned to look in the same direction. "Is that

Roy?" she asked. "No," I said, keeping my voice steady. "It's Ted." "Who's Ted?" "The guy who ruined my marriage." Her face went pale, and I could feel the tension rising between us. Ted spotted me almost immediately and began walking toward us. My blood boiled, but I kept my composure, determined not to cause a scene in public. "Frank," Ted said when he reached us, his voice low but taunting. "Long time no see." I didn't respond, just looked at him with a cold expression. Mel, sensing the hostility, stepped slightly to the side. "I just wanted to let

you know," Ted continued, "that I'm doing fine. You can drop your lawsuit, but you didn't really think you'd win, did you?" I clenched my jaw, my hands balling into fists at my sides. Mel stepped forward and said, "You should leave now." Ted glanced at her, then back at me. "Nice choice, Frank," he said with a smirk, before turning to walk away. I grabbed Mel's arm gently. "Let's go," I said, leading her back to our table. For the rest of the night, my mood was dark. Mel tried to cheer me up, but I couldn't shake the

anger and frustration Ted's presence had stirred. The next day, Mel called me. "I need to know something, Frank," she said. "Are you still hung up on what happened with your ex-wife?" "Why do you ask?" "Because last night when Ted walked in, I saw something in your eyes. You still have unresolved feelings about it, don't you?" I sighed. "Mel, I'm always going to carry some of that pain with me. Iris's betrayal cut deep, and seeing Ted just brings it all back." "Do you think you'll ever let it go?" "I don't know," I admitted. "I've tried to

move on, but it's not easy." Mel was silent for a moment, then said, "I need to know where I stand with you, Frank. I don't want to be a placeholder. I want something real." I hesitated. "Mel, I care about you, but I don't think I can give you what you're looking for. You deserve someone who can love you without hesitation, and I'm not sure I can do that." Her voice broke slightly. "So that's it? After everything we've been through, you're just going to walk away?" "I'm sorry, Mel," I said softly, "but I think it's better

for both of us if we end this now." She hung up without another word. For the next two weeks, I threw myself into work, trying to distract myself from the lingering pain of both Iris and Mel. My evenings were spent looking for a new apartment and trying to rebuild a sense of normalcy. One evening, Marcy stopped by unannounced. "Dad, you look like hell," she said bluntly. "Thanks for the pep talk," I replied with a weak smile. "I'm serious," she said, sitting down across from me. "What's going on?" "Just life," I said with a shrug. "Things

haven't exactly gone the way I planned." "You're still hung up on Mom, aren't you?" I didn't answer right away. Finally, I said, "I don't know. Part of me misses her, but another part knows I can never go back." "You don't have to go back, Dad," she said. "But you also don't have to let her betrayal define the rest of your life. You deserve to be..." Happy. A week later, I received a letter in the mail. It was from Iris. "Frank, I know I don't have the right to ask anything of you, but I wanted to

reach out one last time. I've been going to therapy, trying to understand why I did what I did and how I hurt you so deeply. The truth is, there's no excuse for my actions, and I'll regret them for the rest of my life. I still love you, Frank; I always will. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I hope that someday you can find peace. I wish you nothing but happiness, whether it's with someone else or on your own. You deserve that much, at least." Reading her letter stirred a mix of emotions. I wasn't

sure if I believed her words, but they didn't feel like a ploy to win me back. For the first time, it felt like Iris was genuinely trying to take responsibility for her actions. I folded the letter and put it away, unsure of what to do with it or with the lingering feelings it had brought back. A month later, I moved into a new apartment, leaving behind the memories of both Iris and Mel. It wasn't easy, but it felt like a fresh start. On my first night in the new place, Marcy called. "Hey Dad," she said.

"How's the new place?" "It's nice," I said. "Quiet, just what I need right now." "Good," she said. "You deserve some peace." "Thanks, sweetheart," I said as I hung up the phone. I looked around my new home. It was a blank slate, free of the baggage I'd been carrying for so long. For the first time in months, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could start over. Marcy walked into the grotto and wasn't alone; Iris was with her. To say Iris looked great would be a huge understatement. My body tensed immediately, and Mel

noticed. She asked, "Is something wrong?" "No," I lied. "I just felt a sudden chill." Mel and I were sitting at a couple of tables pushed together with other regulars. Naturally, Marcy headed there with Iris in tow. By the time the band finished the number Mel and I were dancing to and announced a break, Marcy and Iris were already seated at the table over. Over Mel's shoulder, I saw Marcy introducing Iris to the others. From the quick glances in my direction, I guessed she must have introduced Iris as my mom or, worse, my ex-wife. Mel and

I walked back to the table, and Iris's face broke into a wide smile when she saw me, but it quickly disappeared as she realized the woman walking next to me wasn't just passing by; she was with me. We sat down, and Iris spoke first. "Hello, Frank. How are you doing?" "I'm doing well, Iris," I replied. "How about you?" "It's been better, but it's been so long." She hesitated, then asked, "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" "Certainly," I smiled thinly. "Mel, this is Iris, and Iris, this is Melissa. She prefers to be called

Mel." Mel raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Come on, Frank, you can probably come up with something better than that." "Fine," I said. "Dry. Mel, this is Iris, my ex-wife, and Iris, this is Mel, my main girlfriend." Mel laughed. "Well done! Maybe we can meet and exchange stories sometime." The look on Iris's face made it clear that hell would freeze over before that ever happened. The usual chatter resumed around the table, but Iris studiously avoided looking in Mel's direction. When the band returned and began their next set, I grabbed Marcy by the hand and pulled her

onto the dance floor. "What the hell is going on here, Marcy?" I demanded. "Why is your mom here?" "Mom called me and asked if she could stay with me now that you've moved out and have your own place. I'm not going to refuse my mom." "Don't you think I should have been warned before she came here?" "Maybe," she admitted, "but she wanted to surprise you." "Well, she succeeded. Damn it, Marcy! How could you do this to me?" "It wasn't difficult, Dad. I happen to love both of my parents, and it's easy for me to see

that you two still love each other. Don't bother denying it; I saw your face light up for a second when you first saw her walk in, and God knows I've heard enough from her over the past few months to know that being away from you is killing her. If there's anything I can do to get you two back together, I'll do it. Bringing her here tonight is just the first step." "You're interfering in our affairs, Marcy." "I know," she said unapologetically, "but like I said, I love you both, and I want to see you together

again." "This little girl doesn't stand a chance," I muttered. "We'll see," she said as the song ended. As we returned to the table, the next number began. I saw a man approach Iris and ask her to dance. She accepted, and they went out onto the floor. They stayed there for three songs. About halfway through the third number, I felt a sharp poke in my ribs. I turned to see Mel staring at me. "You should be here with me, not stuck on the dance floor in your mind with your ex," she said pointedly. "What the hell

are you talking about?" "You haven't taken your eyes off her since she started dancing, and judging by the look on your face, you want to go out there and kill the guy she's dancing with." I opened my mouth to argue but realized she was right. I did want to tell him to get his hands off my wife. My wife? Where had that thought come from? "Thought even come from? She wasn't my wife anymore. Call me when you decide what you really want," Mel said, standing up. "Because right now, it's clear your heart is out there

on the dance floor." And with that, she left. I was left sitting at the table, staring at the dance floor. The man dancing with Iris crossed the line, sliding his hand lower on her back than I could tolerate. Rage surged through me, and before I could stop myself, I was on my feet. I stormed onto the dance floor, grabbed the guy by the shoulders, and pulled him away from Iris. "Get your dirty hands off my wife!" I snarled. The man hesitated, gathering his courage to confront me, but when he saw the look on my face,

he thought better of it. He turned and walked away without a word. I turned to Iris, whose face was a mix of shock and puzzlement. "Are you forgetting something, Frank?" she asked softly. "Last I checked, I'm not your wife anymore." "You moved borders," Iris said. "Maybe I wanted this." "You wanted this?" she asked, her voice shaking. "You wanted me to dance with another man?" "I wanted to protect you," I shot back. "I couldn't stand seeing him touch you like that." Her expression softened. "Frank, why do you care?" I didn't answer. I couldn't. "I will," I

said, grabbing her by the wrist. "Stop, Frank! Stop it now!" "Damn it, Iris," I protested, struggling against my grip. "Let me go! My handbag, my purse is on the table! Damn it, Frank, stop it now!" I ignored her protests and continued to pull her outside. "What are you doing, Frank? Damn it, answer me!" she yelled, trying to keep pace with me. "I want it," I said firmly. "If you want this," she said, her voice softer now but laced with frustration, "take me to your place and do it properly. Do it secretly, but not here and

not like this." "Get in the car, Iris." "I need my purse and to change my shoes," she snapped. "Marcy will take care of it. Get in the damn car." "Yes, Frank," she replied, a hint of resignation in her voice as she climbed into the passenger seat. When I woke up the next morning, Iris was already awake. She was sitting on the bed, watching me intently. As soon as she saw my eyes open, she spoke. "Why, Frank? Why?" "What?" I asked, groggy. "What happened last night?" "You couldn't wait to get rid of me before, but last

night you were jealous. It was written all over your face. Anyone paying attention could see it. That look, it screamed, 'This is my woman.'" She paused, her voice softening. "Am I being honest, Frank? Am I your woman?" I sat up, rubbing my temples. "I don't know what happened last night, Iris. It just happened. I don't know why." "Well," she said with a faint smile, "I'm glad it happened, Frank. It's just a pity it didn't happen sooner." She got out of bed, pulling on her robe. "If you tell me where everything is, I'll make us breakfast."

"There's nothing here," I admitted. "I haven't gone grocery shopping this week." "Well, we'll go to the village, but you should call Marcy first. She might be worried." "I don't think so," I replied, shaking my head. "I think last night was exactly what she was hoping for when she brought you to the—" "GR!" Iris said, smirking slightly. "I think you're the one who should call her, not me." "Who should I call then?" I asked, already knowing where this was going. "That young lady you were with last night," Iris said pointedly. "Why do I need to call

her?" I asked defensively. "I hope it's to tell her that you won't be seeing her again," Iris said, her voice firm. "I wish there were more nights like last night, Frank. Maybe another 20 or 30 years of them." I lay there, staring at her, suddenly realizing that I wanted the same thing. The anger and hurt I'd been carrying for so long suddenly felt lighter. "What do you think of our story today? In my opinion, the wife did the right thing by confessing immediately, but at the same time, she made a mistake by waiting until after

the affair instead of stopping it before it began. Until the next video..."