(Authors Note
Apologies for the delay! This one has taken me longer than I'd have liked because I switched it up a little and I wasn't feeling it as much as I have with the other stuff I've written. At one point I was close to canning it, but I am glad I've persevered. And, more importantly, I hope you enjoy it and don't mind the slight shift.
Two parts left after this one I reckon and then on to new and exciting stories!)
*****
For whatever reason, the quick romp in my study was what finally hammered the guilt in about what I'd done. I'd gone downstairs and joined the party again but all I could feel was Emma's hands over me, and all I could see was how her body moved as I slammed myself into her.
I was quiet for the rest of the evening as the guests gradually left as I considered who I was. A good husband? Not anymore. A good father? Not even that -- what kind of self-respecting dad goes and does what I did on their son's birthday?
The answer isn't a good one.
When I crawl into bed that night my morose nature is noticed by Kate, who's sat quietly reading a book. Her hand reaches over and takes mine, squeezing the guilt she can't see deep under my skin.
"What's wrong? You've been quiet all day."
I pause, and feel myself building up to owning up. Better that Kate finds another lover, someone better than me, than stay with someone who has done the huge list of things I've done wrong. Maybe she'll meet someone who can raise my boys to be something better than me too, someone who is so selfish that they would risk the roof over his kids' heads for a fumble with a woman in his care.
But then I think that maybe there's chance for redemption. I have made mistakes, but perhaps I just need to remind myself of all I have -- it would be better to protect my family from all of this and internally learn from it, wouldn't it?
"Next weekend." I say, taking her hand. "Let's go away. All of us together."
Kate's eyes widen and she closes her book, finger between the pages to keep her place.
"What's brought this on?"
"Work. Life. Everything." I mutter. "I just need to spend time with you guys."
Her smile, if anything, makes how I feel even worse. The kiss that quickly follows it only adds to it.
"Where you thinking? We don't have a lot of savings Matt, it can't be anything too flashy."
The thought that immediately comes to mind feels wrong, but might perhaps be the best way of bookending what's happened with Emma. To go back to where it all started.
"Camping. We can go camping."
My wife purses her lips and nods. "Could do, could do. And it would get the boys outside for a bit, rather than have them fighting over the Playstation."
She smiles and nods, evidently very happy. "Ok, let's do it. I'll find a campsite a little south, maybe near the coast, and we'll head down Friday night."
With another kiss she goes back to her book. I turn my back and huddle in the cover, looking at the phone that blinks with a message from 'Kevin'. I decide that I can reply in the morning, and close my eyes to try and find sleep. Unfortunately all I see in my mind is Emma's body, and all I hear is her muffled cries as she comes undone.
The message, which I read when I wake around 4am, is telling me how much she's looking forward to Tuesday. I place the phone down, because I can hardly reply at this time of the morning, and find myself spending the next few hours shifting in bed and contemplating how I'm going to tell Emma that I need a break.
A break is what I need. It gives me a chance to get out slowly, a chance not to hurt the feelings of the young woman I'm definitely starting to feel something for. So when Kate gets up to shower I quickly send a message.
"I can't do Tuesday. I think I just need a week off, if that's ok? It's getting a little intense for me."
The reply comes within two minutes.
"I knew you'd break. What's changed your mind?"
"Nothing has. I just need a week where I can get my head straight."
The next reply takes a while to come through. I shower but my eyes are constantly on my phone that rests beside the sink. My hair is covered in soap when I see it blink and I quickly dart for it, disregarding how wet I make the kitchen floor, picking it up to see a single word reply.
"Fine."
I so badly want to reply, to tell her it's not her but me. But clichΓ©d comments aren't going to make this any easier so I leave it alone and instead focus on what I said I was going to focus on.
It's a long week but I go cold turkey with Emma. She's a ghost within the walls of the school and I'm only able to catch fleeting glances of her talking with friends or walking through the corridors. I can admit to myself that I miss her, miss her terribly, but I also know that this is definitely the right thing to do. And masturbating while thinking about how she would move under and above me is almost the same as what we shared physically together.
Right?
The weekend finally arrives and I drive the four of us to the coast on the Friday night, glad to get away from it all, while simultaneously fearing what might happen to our house. Is Emma unhinged enough to ruin everything for me? Just when I have decided that I want to try and go straight?
Those thoughts plague me as I set up the large family tent we've got. It's separated into three compartments -- one for me and Kate, one for the boys and one that is a communal area in between. It's a lot different from the single one I'd taken away with school when my time with Emma first started, but the inflatable bed is exactly the same one that I'd cheated on Kate with. It's another thing that should make me feel bad, but all it does is make me smile wistfully, remembering that sordid night with a fondness totally undeserved.
The hour is late when the tent finally goes up. Kate has sorted the children out with food and has settled them both down for the night while I finish getting the last things from the car. Nearby I can hear the sound of waves crashing and I feel a little peace for once. One weekend without her, I tell myself. If I can do that then I can do the rest.
Kate is settling under the thick duvet we've brought when I finally close the flap to our side of the tent. On the other side of the tent I can hear the kids giggling and my wife chastises them loudly until they shush. I strip down to boxers and then switch off the light and wait for sleep to take me.
Except it doesn't. Instead the canvas roof of the tent reminds me of that night so vividly that I find myself getting instantly hard. The problem is tonight I have no way of ridding it.