Chapter Nineteen

 

The truth is rarely pure and never simple. – Oscar Wilde

 

Adele

 

I’m sick and tired of feeling guilty for the things I’ve done. I can’t help who I fall in love with. Why is it such a crime, falling in love? My husband neglected me for years. His son reminds me so much of him…only better. Younger. More vibrant. Sweet and eager to please.

At first it was all for fun. When your husband loses interest in her sexually, a woman starts to feel less than. Ignored. Alone. I started flirting with Drew and he responded. Oh, maybe he was a little uncomfortable at first but the more we talked, the more time we spent together, the more he liked it.

The more he liked me.

Now he hates me. I don’t know where it all went wrong. I don’t understand his total disgust for me. I wish I could change it. I wish I could make him see I only want the very best for him. He has so much potential. He’ll be a star someday. A shiny bright star for a brief moment, I held in my hands.

Only he slipped away and has no plans on ever coming back. The disappointment that floods me every time I think of him is so overwhelming, I can’t dwell on it for long.

So I don’t.

I’ve had affairs. Brief, meaningless dalliances with beautiful young men who make me feel good for a little while. Jonah the golf pro is my latest indulgence, and while he’s magnificent in bed and eagerly attentive, he’s also young and foolish and enjoys bragging to his friends that he’s banging an older woman. They call me a cougar.

So crude, these boys are. Not my Drew. Scratch that—my Andrew. I’m the only one who calls him that. The only one who’s allowed.

I drive around the backwater little town he lives in while he goes to college, getting lost on all the one-way streets while I try to find a nice hotel. The campus is nice, the downtown area eclectic, with lots of cute shops and restaurants. Other than that, the town is an absolute shit hole. If he remains here with that stupid, useless girl, he will go nowhere.

Thinking of her makes me want to vomit. I can’t believe she attacked me. My head still hurts where she literally ripped the hair out of my scalp. The way she looked at me, the words she said. She hates me.

That’s fine. I hate her too. She’s turned my beautiful boy completely against me, and the idea of her having sex with him makes me want to tear her apart.

Andrew is mine. He belongs to me.

I finally find a hotel and check in, handing over my husband’s credit card. The price doesn’t matter. Price never matters. Andy hasn’t cut off my credit cards or my access to our bank account, none of it. No matter what I do, no matter what I say, he wants me back. I’m his favorite prized possession and the idea that I might belong to someone else fills him with worry.

He won’t let me go. That’s both reassuring and cloying. I need Andy for financial security. I want others for excitement and passion. My husband can no longer give me that sort of excitement, which is a shame.

I go to my hotel room, bringing with me the small travel bag I packed just for this special occasion. I’d hoped Andrew would let me stay with him, but he has that bitch girlfriend living at his apartment for the moment, along with her younger brother.

Who was a most interesting specimen, if I’m being truthful. He’s handsome and young and full of attitude, I could sense it the moment I set eyes on him. Not necessarily my usual type, with his blond hair and green eyes, his slender build and wannabe bad boy personality.

He has potential, though. Tremendous potential.

Setting my bag on top of the bed, I unzip it and reach inside, pulling out the small handgun I took from my husband’s dresser. He keeps it there for protection. I brought it with me for the same reason. I’m about to do something that will change our lives forever and I’m not sure how others might react. I’m especially grateful I brought it, considering that stupid bitch is still in Andrew’s life.

It might be a mistake making my confession, but I need to get this information off my chest. Andy deserves the truth. Andrew must face his truth.

I may have told Andrew Vanessa belonged to him, but I don’t know if it’s true. I want it to be true. I’d much prefer believing Andrew was her father. Unfortunately, I never had it confirmed. There is no absolute for me regarding her paternity. But now she’s gone, and though it’s wishful thinking on my part that Andrew would ever gift me with another child, I still hope for it.

Despite his hatred for me. Despite his fear and disgust for me, I still wish for him to be mine.

Forever.