Violet: I can make it work.
Haley: OMG! Thank you so much. Charge me whatever you want. I’ll double it.
After finalizing the order, I make my way to the kitchen to complete a chunk of the baking tonight so that I can finish the rest in the morning. As I’m adding the flour into the bowl, Zay walks in, his presence causing tension to creep up my spine. We don’t speak, not even a glance in each other’s direction. He heads upstairs without a word. Every single day, this makes me sad and breaks my heart a little more.
A moment later, I hear the faint sound of water running from the shower. Is he going out tonight? The thought lingers, though I try to push it away. He’s made it clear that he’s lost interest in our date nights. I try not to let the disappointment creep in, but it’s hard.
A short time later, I hear the creaks of the stairs as he comes down. He doesn’t say a word, strolls past the kitchen. I watch him from where I stand, my hands still covered in flour. He passes me by without a glance over at me or any word of where he is going. He steps outside and heads straight for the garage. The door shuts with a soft thud, and the sound of the engine starting soon follows.
I stand there frozen, the mixing spoon gripped in my hand, my mind racing to process if this is our new norm. Disbelief floods through me because it’s starting to feel like it is.
It’s as if I’m invisible, as if I don’t matter to him at all.
I set the spatula down and run upstairs. This might be my chance to catch him. I slip on a pair of sandals and run back downstairs. Surprisingly, I remember to turn off the oven before I run out to the garage to my car.
If he really is hanging out with friends from work, they will most likely be at the bars down Main Street rather than the city an hour away from us. He’s told me before they don’t enjoy going out to the city with overpriced drinks.
Once I hit Main Street, I ease my foot off the gas and drive slower, my eyes scanning the sidewalks and parking lots. The glow of the streetlights reflects off my windshield as I pass by bars and restaurants he might be at. My heart pounds in my chest as I look through the large windows of some places, hoping to catch a glimpse of him inside. But some don’t have big windows, making it impossible to see anything from the street.
Frustration creeps in as I turn into the parking lot of a bar he’s been to before. I circle around, my eyes darting between cars, searching for his. But there’s nothing. No sign of him.
With a sigh, I pull back onto the road, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. Where could he be? The sinking feeling in my stomach only grows as I continue down the street. I turn into another bar that has a big parking lot at the back of it, scanning the lot. But there is still no sign of his truck
It’s still early in the night; he might have gone to a friend’s to pregame. I pull over into a Target parking lot, somewhere I doubt he will be at. I lean back into my seat and decide to wait it out for a bit. My hands shake as the anxiety rises. I know I’m trying to catch him with someone, but it’s actually making me sick to my stomach. How am I going to feel if I see him with another woman, if I’m already feeling this sick?
Around eleven o’clock, about an hour later, when bars typically become more crowded, I start my car and head back out. The reflections of the other car’s headlights makes it hard to see in the dark. Which makes it even harder to look over my shoulder at the bars.
I pull my car over to the side of the road and I decide to walk along Main Street. It will make it easier anyway, if I catch him with someone because I’ll be on foot. If I’m in my car and he sees me, he has a better chance of getting away.
Fuck, I’m truly going crazy.
I pace my steps as I look into a window, but the only thing I see is the reflection of myself. Should I go in and look around? I stand here frozen, debating my options because I don’t want him to see me if he’s not with anyone.
I hear a group of guys laughing coming my way. My whole body tenses up as I turn my head to see if it’s him. They head straight in my direction. It’s guys I don’t recognize. One guyopens the door to the bar. One by one, they all go in. I peek my head in before the door shuts.
“You coming or going?” the bearded man says as he looks at the last guy’s ID.
“Umm.” I scan over the crowd. I look back over at him and shake my head.
His brows raise as he stares over me.
Has he seen this scene before? A wife trying to catch her husband in the act.
The door shuts behind me, and a deep shiver ripples through my body. Despite it being warm outside, my anxiety sends a chill through me. Or is it adrenaline?
I’m wondering what other places he could be at as I walk further down the street. Is he even here? If not here, where else would he be? Did he head up to the city with a bitch by his side?
I stop trying to rethink my behavior, deciding if I should keep going or head back to my car. A door to another bar opens, laughter filling the air as a couple walks out hand in hand. The man stops and holds the door open. I scan the door up and down.
“Are you going in?” he asks.
“Yeah. Thanks,” I say and walk in. There is a bar to my right full of men and woman. My heart beats faster as I look over the line of people sitting and chatting away at the bar. Once I’m done scanning the bar and find no Zay in sight, my shoulders relax. But not for long, because as I scan the tables, I’m hit like a deer in the headlight.
Zayn’s brown eyes are staring at me. Staring at me so hard that it looks like his eyes are growing bigger with the realization that it’s me.
His wife.
Standing in the bar staring back at him.
