I Love You Too Much

A thank you to blackrandl1958 for her editing and another thank you to the crew at Beta Readers R Us for their suggestions and help.

Jolene Buchovsky is a short, curvy woman with shoulder-length dark brown hair and gray-blue eyes.

She is the longtime wife of Rob Buchovsky, and together they own my favorite jewelry store.

Jolene and I were working on designing a custom-made necklace for my wife for our upcoming 20

th

anniversary. I had purchased a large piece of malachite--a turquoise stone not often found in large pieces--from a custom rock shop, and Jolene and I were figuring out how to set this egg-shaped piece of stone to really make it pop.

My 20

th

anniversary was nine months away, but I'm one of those people who likes to get big stuff completed early. I thought 20 years married was pretty big, and I wanted to make sure my gift reflected that.

I am a forensic accountant, and I make pretty good money, so I had no trouble spending $4,200 for this gift. My wife most definitely deserved it. We'd had 19-plus years of a great marriage, and as we were both in our mid-40s, I was thinking the best was yet to come. Both of our daughters would be in college within the next three years, and we'd discussed all sorts of things we could do as empty-nesters. We enjoyed raising our children, but we were also looking forward to this new and exciting phase of our lives.

Jolene told me that the necklace would take four months to construct. We agreed on half down, I paid her, she gave me a hug and I went back to my office feeling like the cat that ate the canary, then had a dessert of sparrow.

As promised, the necklace was ready four months later. The braided 14-karat gold chain was perfect with the stone and the setting. Jolene didn't even have to ask if I wanted the box gift-wrapped. I've bought enough stuff there that we've discussed my wrapping deficit.

On my way home, I called our favorite upscale Italian restaurant and made a reservation for our anniversary night. That meant I had to wait five more months, but I was good with that. Everything was in place.

******

Springtime in the Midwest is really great as everything starts to come to life and green up after several months of cold and mostly gray days. I was thinking about getting the mower out of the back of the garage and cleaning the landscaping beds around the house that weekend as I drove home. I briefly entertained the thought of asking my daughters to help me, but quickly discarded that idea. There was no way in hell two teenage girls were going to miss a pretty spring weekend doing whatever it is teenage girls do to help their dad with yard work. I chuckled to myself at my moment of lunacy as I pulled my car into the garage alongside my wife's.

Speaking of the girls, I noticed that Mo's car wasn't parked in its usual spot out front. I absently wondered if Jude was with her.

I didn't smell dinner started when I walked in the door from the garage, which meant my wife and I were either going out to eat or I was going to be grilling. I really hoped it was the latter. I love grilling, and I especially love eating grilled food. EVERYTHING tastes better grilled.

Traci was sitting in the family room with a glass of white wine in her hand. She was still wearing the outfit she had worn to work, which told me we were probably going out to eat at a fairly nice restaurant.

"Jude coming with us, or is she out with Mo?" I said to my wife off-handedly.

"The girls are at my folks until Sunday. We need some adult time, King," she replied, quickly taking a sip of her wine.

I'll admit to being a bit of a perv. My first thought was that we were going to be spending a romantic two days in bed playing. At 43, my wife still had the beauty that made heads turn wherever she went, and the body to match. The look on Traci's gorgeous face, however, was far from playful.

I stopped in my tracks as that feeling of being punched hard in the stomach hit me. My mind started racing as I tried to figure out whom in the family had died.

"I want a divorce, Kingston," she said quietly but firmly.

An explosion went off somewhere in the background of my brain. I felt like I was frozen to the spot upon which I was standing. An unknown number of seconds went by before my brain re-engaged.

"Wh-what?" I said meekly.

I didn't say my brain re-engaged strongly.

"I want a divorce," she repeated in a strong, clear voice.

I know I did the fish out of water gasping for air thing for a bit.

"What? I didn't even have a clue that we were having any problems. What the hell are you talking about?" I started out softly, but was at loud volume when I finished.

She didn't even flinch. She just kept looking right at me, almost looking right through me. Who was this woman?

I bought myself some time by walking to my well-stocked liquor cabinet and making a small production out of what to get myself.

"Let's see... tequila. No, that's for happy events, parties. Bourbon. No, too mundane. Rye, now that's a good solid whiskey. No, not enough gravitas for the situation. A Scotch, single malt. Serious. Very serious," I mumbled, as much to myself as anything.

I poured the equivalent of two shots worth, so I put two teaspoons of water into the glass, as well. When I turned back to my wife, her look had turned to a glare. Okay, mission accomplished. Now both of us were off our game a bit.

"What's going on, babe? We've hardly had a cross word. I thought things were good, better than good," I said.

"I love you, King, and I always will, but I'm not

in love

with you anymore," she said. "I want to be

in love

again. But I won't cheat on you. I need to be divorced to be free to find someone to be

in love

with."

I suddenly felt like I wanted to throw up. Instead, I took a good sip of my Glenmorangie and felt the liquid move from my mouth, down my throat and into my stomach.

"Just like that? I mean, I appreciate that you don't want to cheat on me, but you want to end us, without even giving us a shot at coming back?" I asked.

"We're done, King. Why ruin the memory of what we had? It can only go downhill from here. And to answer your unasked question, there is nobody else yet.

"I'd like for us to be able to remain friends. If we end it now, I think we can do that... and do an adult divorce without all the antagonistic bullshit," Traci said.

"Does that mean you're going to be reasonable on alimony?" I asked. "And you do realize that the girls are going to choose to stay in the house with me?"

"Yes," she asserted.

Traci was true to her word, at least about alimony. I was surprised, though, when I got served that Monday morning at my office. That meant this had been in the works for some time.

I was also a little disappointed that she had me served at work. Considering that we talked about it, I felt she could have had me served at home. It certainly would have played better if she wanted us to remain friends as she claimed.

I took a couple of personal hours the next day and took the paperwork to my attorney, who was my boss's attorney when he went through his divorce five years previously. She told me it was a good deal and if I signed it, she could get this moving right then. It would take about six months before I would be a divorce statistic... just like that.

My daughters were just as surprised at their mother's request as I was when we told them about Traci's request for a divorce after they got home from her parents' house that Sunday morning.

"What did you do, Dad?" Mo practically yelled at me after Traci dropped her bombshell.

I expected a negative reaction, but I wasn't quite ready to be attacked, especially since I wasn't the one who precipitated this action.

"Not my doing... not my choice... not my fault," I said.

Mo looked from me back to her mother. Traci dropped her eyes. It was the first time she didn't look completely in control of the situation.

Maureen, 18, and a senior in high school, was practically Traci's younger doppelganger, both in terms of appearance and attitude. She crossed her arms under her chest and drilled holes in Traci with her eyes.

As she had so many times before in our marriage, Traci looked at me expecting me to come to her aid with an explanation. I raised my eyebrows and held up my hands in surrender.

"Your circus, your monkeys," I said.

Traci looked at both girls. Judith was 16 and a sophomore.

The explanation to the girls took 10 minutes. The question-and-answer period took another 10 minutes. The backpedaling and apology took five more minutes.

"Sorry, Dad. I guess I jumped too quickly," Mo said when Traci was through with everything.

She then turned back to her mother.

"What the fuck, you ditzy bitch? You just throw away almost 20 years with the sweetest guy in the world? On a whim? This is a bad joke, right?" she yelled at Traci.

Traci stuttered and stammered. She didn't explain it any better to the girls than she did to me. She did reiterate that she hadn't cheated on me and didn't want to. We would continue to live in our house, with me staying in the guest room, until closer to the divorce being finalized.

******

Two weeks later, I got an unexpected phone call from a neighbor, John Regan, who lives two houses down from our house. Mo, Jude and I were slobbing down a couple of pizzas for dinner as Traci was working late. It was something she occasionally had to do in the 15 years she had worked for First Financial, so the girls and I would usually use that as an opportunity to get something "fun" for dinner.

"You got a minute to talk, King, without the girls around?" John asked in a tone I've usually heard from a mortician.

"Let me go into my office, John," I said, while getting up from the kitchen table.

Both girls looked at me. I nodded and left the table.

"Okay, John. What's up?" I asked.

"Are you and Traci okay? You know what I mean?" John asked tentatively.

I knew exactly what John Regan was asking. I quickly debated with myself whether I was going to cover for my soon-to-be ex-wife.

"No, we're not okay," I answered. "She filed for divorce two weeks ago. Why?"

Silence for about five seconds was followed by a throat clear.

"Because she and some younger guy are playing kissy-face at Beef and Spuds in the back room. Helen about spit out her food when the two of them walked in hand-in-hand, and almost died of a heart attack when they kissed."

"Shit," I said quietly. "Appreciate the info."

When I ended the call, I looked up into the faces of my daughters, who had entered the room.

"If she was telling the truth about not having cheated on me before, well I'm thinking that will be over with tonight, or sometime very soon in the future," I said sadly. "Of course, she also told me that she wasn't already seeing anybody, so..."

Both girls broke down in tears and hugged me.

Traci walked in the house at about 9. We were in the family room watching television. When she stopped at the doorway, the girls and I briefly looked up, then went back to watching the screen without saying anything. Traci huffed and walked off. We noticed she didn't jump in the shower, and knowing looks passed between us.

The next week Traci worked late on Wednesday. The girls and I discussed the fact that she was trying to keep us from getting suspicious by being late on different days. This time when she walked in, however, we heard the shower running a few minutes later.

Although she had filed on me, I wasn't satisfied that I had enough information, so I asked my attorney if he had a private investigator on retainer. The investigator that my attorney hired reported back a month later, and it was no surprise when he told me that Traci had been with the same man each time she went out, and yes, several of those times she and her paramour had engaged in sex. I was surprised when her paramour was revealed to be her immediate boss, Vice President Johann Westler. Westler had transferred in a year before from the firm's Buffalo office. He was a 35-year-old Dutchman, having moved to the United States 13 years earlier. He was a good-looking, fit, blond son of a bitch, standing about 6-2 with a well-sculpted 200 pounds on his frame, judging from the photos the PI had.

I'll admit to being devastated. Traci and I had been together for almost 22 years, counting the two years we dated before we got married. I think I'm a decent-looking guy, but Traci is at least two notches above my pay grade in looks. For the longest time, I wondered how I got to be the lucky one to land that goddess. We connected from the start and I thought our marriage was getting better each year, at least until she told me I was way wrong.

******

Traci was throwing up in the bathroom on a Saturday morning about a month later while the girls and I were eating breakfast. The girls winced when they heard their mother upchucking, while I grinned from ear to ear.

"Doesn't that bother you?" Jude finally asked. "That's disgusting."

"Nah, just brings back old memories," I answered.

"Of what?" Jude asked.

Just then Traci all but staggered into the kitchen.

"Morning sickness!" I cried out happily. "Feel like shit, my unfaithful wife?"

Traci's head shot up upon my exclamation. Her eyes got wide.

"No! No! I haven't betrayed you!" she cried.

"Yes, you have my dear. And you have been since several weeks after you filed for divorce. Technically, we're still married, and will be for several more weeks. That makes you both a liar and a slut, my dear wife.

"And also pregnant."

Both of my daughters stared wide-eyed at their mother, who in turn stared wide-eyed at me.

"Don't you remember how sick you were with Jude?" I asked.

"Oh, no. I had forgotten," she answered.

"Oh, my God, Mom. You're knocked up by another man while you're still married to Dad? I'm glad I'm going to college soon, because I'd never be able to face my friends," Mo said. "You always taught me not to be a slut, then you go ahead and turn into Sally Slut."

"That's just great. I've got two more years before I go, so everyone gets to rub my face in the fact that you're a slut," Jude said.

"I AM NOT A SLUT!" Traci yelled.

"Yes, you are," I said quietly. "You are divorcing me because you want to fuck Johann Westler, and you couldn't even keep your legs closed until the divorce became official. I'm pretty sure if you look at the definition of slut, your photo will be right next to it."

She blushed a deep crimson and dropped her eyes.

"You haven't even been subtle about it. I can't tell you how embarrassing it is when neighbors have called me to tell me about you and Westler. All you had to do was wait six lousy months, and it wouldn't have looked so bad. You told me you hadn't cheated and wanted the divorce so you could find someone to fall in love with. Well, you certainly showed me... it wasn't about love. That's called lust, Traci."

Traci moved in with Westler the next weekend. The girls and I helped carry boxes of her stuff to her car. I made sure to change all of the locks and the garage door code.

I didn't see Traci again until Mo's graduation, although I know the girls had visited her occasionally. Although they were unhappy with her and embarrassed by her, she was still their mother after all. I never stopped them from spending time with her.

Graduations always draw a pretty good crowd, so Jude and I were sitting in the gymnasium bleachers early waiting for the ceremony to start when a very pregnant-looking Traci showed up with Johann. She waddled right over to us when she spotted us sitting in the bleachers. I noticed several parents that knew us watching, and I was feeling a mixture of embarrassment, humiliation and dread as Traci sat next to Jude, with Johann on the outside.

"Aren't we just the cute little family," I said to no one in particular as the pair joined us.

"Just supporting our daughter, Kingston," Traci said formally.

She looked from me to Johann, and I knew what she was going to do.

"Stop, Traci. Don't you dare introduce him to me here in front of everybody. Trust me, I know who he is. He looks just like the photos and videos I've seen," I snarled.

She looked at me with a combination of surprise and hurt.

"You have photos and videos? Oh my God, King. Seriously?" she whined.

"You created the game. I just played it to the best of my ability. I needed to know exactly what I was up against," I replied.

At that point, Jude held up her hand sideways in front of her face, effectively blocking Traci and I from easily seeing each other.

"It's time for you two to act like adults here," she warned. "Everybody's starting to look. I think they're taking odds on whether or not Dad is going to slap the pregnant woman."

That shut us up. It's kind of bad when the 16-year-old is the adult in the room.

Traci had a third daughter a few weeks before Christmas. I wasn't keeping track, but Jude was. Johann called her several minutes after her half-sister, Maya, was born. She was pretty pumped up, and ran over to me to show me the photo.

"That's great," I said, trying to feign interest.

Apparently, I didn't feign good enough, because I pissed her off.

"Great, Dad. Real mature. It's not the baby's fault, Dad," Jude hissed.

It was my turn to show some heat.

"I'm glad you're happy, Jude. She's your half-sister. But to me she's nothing more than my cheating ex-wife's spawn. Plain and simple," I hissed back.

She blinked once, twice, three times, then brushed a tear from her face.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she said in almost a whisper. "I got carried away. I didn't think..."

She came over to me and we hugged.

Unlike Traci, I waited until we were legally divorced before I went on my first date. I actually waited until about a year after the divorce. She was a friend from our former circle who had been divorced for about five years.

I thought Emma was almost expecting the call when I made it. Still, she seemed enthusiastic and didn't hesitate to accept. I was pleased, because in truth it had been a long time since I had been out on a date, especially with someone not named Traci.

Emma was a tall, lithe redhead about the same age as me. She really was more Traci's friend than mine, but I went the safe route rather than try someone with whom I wasn't that close.

At least I thought it was the safe route. That thought went away when she answered the door in a low-cut royal blue dress that she filled out like it was tailored especially for her. Did I mention that the hemline was mid-thigh at best? I almost choked to death on her porch. This for a Shakespeare play followed by a meal at a British pub-style restaurant.

"Ohhhhhhh!" I whispered, unable to say more.

"I'll take it that you approve of my dress," she said while smiling broadly.

All I could do was nod like a mute bastard.

"How about you come inside for a quick drink until you can find your voice, King?" she asked.

I smiled and nodded. I was hoping my voice would come back soon.

My voice returned and we had a great night out... followed by a great night in. It was her voice that was making all the noise as I returned to the land of sex with a vengeance. I fingered Emma to three orgasms and ate her to two more before she had a final two with my dick buried deeply inside her incredibly hot pussy.

My tendency is to over-examine things, and I was easily inside my head when we returned to her house after the meal and play. You always like to think you are satisfying your woman, but I only had Traci's opinion for the last two decades, so I had to hope she was telling me the truth. Emma gave me a very encouraging second opinion, which spurred me on to greater heights.

She asked me to stay the night and I seriously considered it, but I hadn't given Jude a heads-up, and figured I should get home. She graciously gave me a raincheck when I explained.