My rating: 3 of 5 stars
3 ⭐⭐⭐ - OK decent reads.
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Cheater or No? In my opinion he is a cheater!
Make your conclusions:
If your husband... does everything behind your back, without you having the slightest idea of what happens==>
➡he's coming home every day from work later because he was with OW,
➡forgetting commitments from his children's school because he was with OW,
➡have dates with OW that last for hours,
➡have conversations inside OW's car for hours,
➡go out to have lunch with OW every day,
➡exchange messages and phone calls with OW,
➡discuss the couple's life and the alleged problems with OW,
➡leave you and say that he met someone,
➡the OW take her son in your child's birthday party in your house after your husband leave you,
➡take the OW's son to play with yours, when you're not at home,
➡kissing the OW,
➡the OW has found you at the grocery store and say that she is with your husband and looks at you with pity,
➡OW makes gossip about you at your children's school,
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Amelia’s preschool spring concert was tonight, a big deal for a little girl, and my husband never showed. He forgot.
“I’m leaving, Grace.” His voice is steady signaling that this is not an impulsive move. This was premeditated leaving. God, how much time had he spent thinking about leaving me? Leaving us?
“I-I’ve met someone, and...”
Where was he staying? Did I need a lawyer? Were we getting divorced? How would I pay the mortgage, and would I even live here anymore? How would we tell the kids?
“You cannot just tell me you’re leaving me for another woman and not talk about it. That’s insane! We have a life and a lot of the parts of our life depend on you, Ben.”
“I just don’t want things to be awkward, you know? Benjamin and I didn’t mean for anything to happen between us, it just…did.”
“You have thirty minutes to pack your stuff.”
“We were. But that was yesterday, before I had a chat with Joanne Myers in the grocery store this morning, you fucking asshole.”
What I am not prepared for, however, is Tanner and his mom pulling up, her long, tan legs popping out the car door to reveal a sundress of her own and flashy sandals with heels on them.
This is low, so, so, so very low. Ben is shaking his head, his face frozen, begging. I turn back to her as she walks up, a chipper smile plastered on her face while Tanner runs ahead to the kids who have gathered in the sand.
And I see Ben, standing by the picnic table, talking to Joanne.
“You could never? Can you really say that to me now? Because I feel like we’re deep in ‘could never’ territory right now, Ben. I feel like things are happening that I never thought possible.”
“Did you really think you could go off with some other woman and just come back to me, to our marriage, when you were ready?” “No,” he shakes his head adamantly. “No, Grace.”
“Well,” Ben starts, clearing his throat, “Grace and I have been together for about fifteen years, married for ten, and recently, um, we’ve had some issues.”
“He left me for another woman,”
“And what do you mean you were ‘never seeing her’?” I ask, wagging my fingers in the air. “You told me you’d met someone else.”
And what kind of immature, disrespectful man tells his wife he’s leaving her and he met someone else for attention?”
“Maybe that will change in a couple of days, I don’t know. If it does, I’ll call you, but for now, I just want to go home, hug my kids, and go to bed.”
He shrugs and says it was alright, going on to tell me they had pizza for dinner and that Tanner came over to play yesterday. Tanner. As in, Joanne’s kid, Tanner. And if Tanner was here, I couldn’t help but wonder where Joanna was.
“I found out you invited her to our house while I was gone, that you had a playdate with her and our children? I don’t-I-“
“We started eating lunch together sometimes, and, I don’t know, she’d vent about her life, and then I-“ he stops to rub a hand down his face and that’s my signal that it’s about to get worse. “I started talking about me, about us…and our marriage.”
“You talked to her about us? About me?” I squeak out, causing him to grimace further. “Like, how?”
“Any of it. The talking, the lunches, none of it. I told her things had gone further than I should have ever allowed it, that our friendship was unprofessional and disrespectful to you.” “Yet, she feels like she can still text you.”
“She kissed me. Once,” he confesses. “She kissed you.” He nods. “And what did you do when she kissed you, Ben?” My voice is frosty and inflexible.
I just hate that there is this other woman out there who feels like she has any ownership over my husband, like she has the right to text him and check in.
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