Wait until the pain of using was worse than the pain of not using.
Whenever that would be.
After I shut the last window I walked to the sink to clean up the frying pan. Hopefully, it could be salvaged.
“Hey,” I heard Trey behind me.
“What?” I snapped unnecessarily harshly.
“I’ll get dressed and then we should go.”
The sandwich had morphed into something twice its size in the sink. I scooped it up and chucked the smelly, watery mess into the garbage.
“You go. I can’t leave him when he’s like this.” I dumped out the sooty water in the pan and turned on the faucet. I grabbed a sponge and dumped some soap on it.
“He’ll be fine. You need to get back. You guys travel tonight,” he told me something I was already well aware of.
“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?” I twisted my head around. “How can I leave him when he nearly set the house on fire?”
He placed his hand on my shoulders and spun me around. The sponge dripped on the floor, so I chucked it into the sink.
“He’s okay. The smoke detectors would have woken him up.”
I stared up into the eyes of someone who knew nothing at all about what or whom I’d been living with all my life.
Trey didn’t know all the times Dad had disappeared on a bender and Mom had to hunt him down.
Trey didn’t know about the times—the weeks on end where he wouldn’t leave his bedroom. And Mom and I had to make sure he ate and drank.
Trey just plain old didn’t know.
“We’ll be okay. You should get ready and go.”
His eyes scanned my face for a minute before he spoke again. “I’m not leaving without you.”
I screwed up my face. “Why?”
The expression on his face fell and was replaced with confusion.
“Uh, because you’re my wife, for one thing. And for another—you have a series starting tomorrow. You have to get back.”
I stepped out of his grip. “We’re getting a divorce. I won’t be your wife for much longer. None of,” I waved my hand around, “this is any of your responsibility.”
He let out a breath and jerked his body back like he’d been shot. “I see,” he cocked his head and set his hands on his hips, “then what was last night about?”
I shut my lips tight and swallowed before replying, “We had fun.”
His shoulders slumped slightly and his gaze landed on the floor for a few seconds. He looked back up at me. “You told me you loved me.”
“I do love you, Trey. But I can’t live with you. I can’t be married to you. It’ll kill us both.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. When he opened it again, he said, “So, you’re just going to continue jumping on me whenever the mood strikes? Is that all I am to you? A way for you to get off?”
I shook my head and straightened my spine. “No, that’s over with.” Of course, I’d said that many times before—promised myself that many times before—but somehow, I kept finding myself back in bed with him.
I had to stop sleeping with the man every time we were in each other’s presence.
He narrowed his gaze at me. “Right, so the fact that last night—just fuckin’ hours ago—you told me you loved me, then proceeded to fall asleep—with my fuckin’ cock still inside of you—” his voice was loud and angry, “all of that means you still want a fuckin’ divorce?”