I wipe the tears away from my eyes after leaving Latch’s so suddenly. He was sleeping so peacefully and it killed me to walk out, but the man I want him to be and who he really is are two completely different people.

Getting out of the cab, I walk back into my life, back into the madness. I don’t want to be doing this, but after being with Latch last night and feeling the pull that he has over me, I know this is what I have to do. He provokes something inside of me, something so strong it scares me, and there is no way it’ll end well, unless I stop it now. If I think for one second that he’ll change and what we have could be real, I’m only kidding myself. For Christ’s sake, his phone rang all night long, a different woman’s name every time, and it made me wonder, had I not been there, would he have been out fucking all of those women? My gut says he would’ve.

It’s still early as I open the door and look around the dark condo. Darrell is tranquil, passed out in the same spot that I left him. The note I left seems to be untouched and I’m tempted to throw it away, but I worry that he saw it and will question me when he wakes up about why I did that.

Heading to the bedroom, I change out of my dress and wash my face. Looking at my pale countenance, I can still feel Latch’s lips on mine. I run my fingers over them, wishing that things could be different. Heading to my bed, I get under the covers and curl up in a ball, tucking the covers under my chin. The sun is starting to peek through the clouds, and I close my eyes, praying that I can fall asleep. But my mind is consumed with Latch. The way he looked at me as I rode him, our fingers intertwined, both of us loving the intimacy again.

But the perfect vision of us quickly changes as I get a flashback of him dry humping that woman on the dance floor. Five thousand dollars is a lot of money, there is no denying that, even for me. That’s why I don’t need him to tell me he won’t stop doing what he does, ‘cause I know he won’t. It’s all he knows and he’s told me that. After he fell into the business, he finally has a purpose and a purpose that keeps his heart guarded. Plus, who am I to ask him to stop? If I were to get the balls to leave Darrell, and think that Latch and I could make things work, then I would need to be able to deal with his work, but I can’t.

So what I have to do now is make a decision. Do I want to make my marriage work, because it’s all that I have, or do I want to forge forward in this life, alone? Thinking of that scares the life out of me. Either way, the road ahead of me won’t be easy, and it hurts knowing that I’ll never be with Latch again, but it’s the right thing.

Off in the distance, I hear my phone vibrating. I’m sure it’s Latch, but right now I’ve got to put myself first. The sun is beginning to rise; he must’ve woken up and seen my note. I’m sure it hurt him, but it’s for the best and I have to believe that. We cannot be together and if either of us thinks for one minute that we can, we’re wrong. Even if he were to agree to stop, he’s told me before that relationships just don’t work, that he becomes closed off and detached. Which is why I accepted our relationship the way I did; I’d take Latch any way I could have him as long as it was mutual. Closing my eyes, I pray for some relief, some peace, and maybe the answers to the havoc that has rained down on my life.

A racket in the kitchen startles me out of sleep, my heart slamming against my chest. Darrell doesn’t cook, so I wonder who in God’s name is here. He probably called his mom or sister and they came to ruin my life even more. As I rub my eyes and look outside, the sun has capped the morning sky. Setting my feet on the cool, hardwood floor, I pad quietly across the room and peer out trying to see who is making the noise.

My jaw about hits the floor when I catch sight of Darrell, cooking. He burns his hand and pulls it away, silently cursing to himself and then runs it under the water. He looks sober as he takes a sip of coffee and then goes back to the stove.

Curious to see his reason for cooking and not sulking on drunk like he has been, I venture out and am surprised when he says, “Morning, beautiful.” He hasn’t called me anything except “Abby” in years. What? Now he’s suddenly acting like everything is normal?

Turning towards him with my eyebrows scrunched together, I search for the right words and he asks, “Will you hand me two plates?”

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Cooking breakfast.”

“Why?” He reaches above me grabbing the plates himself as I am still in shock.

“Why not?” he challenges back, splitting the scrambled eggs for the two of us.

I shake my head and turn back towards the coffee, so fucking confused. “It’s already on the table, Ab, just how you like it.” Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I see my favorite coffee cup, steaming, at the chair I always used to sit at.

Walking to the table, I pick it up and begin to take it to the bedroom. There is no way after all that he has put me through that some breakfast gesture is going to make me forget all of the horrible things he’s done and said to me.

“Please eat with me,” he pleads, walking towards me with the food in his hands, and I look at the genuine expression on his face. I don’t think that he has ever cooked for me.

His eyes are insistent as he sets our plates down and pulls a chair out for me. Reluctantly, I sit.

“Thank you,” he says.

Sitting across from Darrell is strange. “Eat up,” he says and takes in a mouthful of food. Looking over my plate, my fucked up mind starts to spin, and I wonder if he’s trying to kill me with this food. Reaching over, I take his plate and hand him mine. He’s got to have a reason for this sudden change of heart.

He rolls his eyes at me and says, “Really, Abby?”

“What? Yours looked better.”

He shakes his head. “Do you really think that I’d hurt you?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.”

He begins to eat the eggs off of the plate I gave him and asks, “Do you want to switch coffees too?”

I shake my head, knowing how ridiculous it is of me to paint him in that picture. As hurtful as he can be sometimes, I hope that he’d never do anything to me. But anger can make you do crazy things. Looking into his sober eyes, I wonder if maybe he is really trying.

“I saw your note, that you went out with the girls. Did you have a nice time?”

“Yeah, it was nice to unwind and catch up with them.”

“Good, you deserve that; I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t.”

I don’t respond to his apology. There is so much more that he should be sorry for.

“Does it taste okay?”

I nod in response, barely picking at the eggs, and he sets his fork down. “Abby, I know I haven’t been good to you for quite a while now. I’m very sorry. You deserve more from me, and I should give you that. I don’t know what gets in my head sometimes. The injuries I sustained this season were really hard, which isn’t an excuse, but I just checked out on everything. I don’t remember much of the last year. I’ve just floated on by.”

“You could’ve handled things differently. If you were struggling, then I am who you turn to, not other women.”

“I know.”

“You said and did some really hateful things to me. Things that I don’t know how to forget. For the first time in our marriage, I’m scared of you.”

“I’m sorry, you’ll never know how ashamed of myself I am. I wish I could take all of it back,” he says and reaches over the table for my hand. I let him hold on to it but my stomach churns, not fully trusting him. Looking at our intertwined hands, I can’t help but find myself wishing he was Latch. I wish that it was him holding my hand, trying to make things work between us, not Darrell.

“I’ll do anything to make it better. Just tell me what you want.”

Letting out a sigh as all of his vulgar attacks ring through my head, where do I even start? “I don’t want you to ever lay your hands on me again.”

“I promise I’ll never touch you.”

“Okay, I need you to admit that you’ve cheated on me.”

He leans back in his chair before responding. “Yes, Abby, I have, and it will never happen again.”

“How many women?” I question him.

He holds his breath and his face contorts. “I’m not sure.”

“That many…wow.” I pull my hand away from his, devastated finally hearing it from him. Even though I’ve known all along, I don’t think that I’ve actually come to terms with it. It’s kinda like believing that Latch was an escort – I pushed that away for as long as I could, but last night it all crashed down as the reality of his life shone through. Leaving Darrell at the table, I am heartbroken.

“Abby, please don’t go.”

“What do you want from me, Darrell?”

“I want to make this work. I’ll do anything.”

“Fine, stop drinking.” I know there is no way that he will, especially with us going through issues. It’s his only coping mechanism.

He looks over at his bar, like the decision between me and alcohol is that hard for him. I shake my head and walk away.

“Okay,” he says, catching me by surprise.

I stop dead in my tracks and turn as he walks towards me. “Why now? Why this sudden change of heart?”

He leads me back to the table and takes a sip of orange juice before proceeding. “My head coach called me last night and said I needed to report to practice today.”

“You should’ve gone in a long time ago, especially if your job means that much to you,” I respond.

“I know, but the thought of leaving you here alone and us on bad terms worried me. I cannot bear the thought of you turning to another man.”

“So you’re just being nice to me so I don’t mess around again?”

“No, Abby, dammit, don’t you see that I’m trying here? I want to make our marriage work.”

Hearing him say those words with tears in his eyes, I am stunned. This is the man that I fell in love with. How he got so lost along the way is beyond me.

“Just because we had a meal together and you agreed to not drink doesn’t mean that everything is just going to go back to normal. I need to know that you aren’t going to cheat on me when you’re on the road.”

“I told you I won’t. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, some that I cannot change. Going forward, I’ll do whatever I can to make things right.”

“I really hope you do.”

“I will.”

“What have you even said to your coaches about being away?”

“That I was sick with the flu, and after I pushed it, they wanted to send a team doctor here, but I declined. They sniffed out my BS and now I have to go and see if I even have a future with this team.”

“Of course you’ll have a future with them. They would be stupid to let you go.”

“Not if they see how fucked up my hand is. I punched it through that cabinet and still have glass in it. I don’t know if I can still throw a ball. If I get caught lying, they can cut me. I got to thinking about losing my job and you yesterday, and I lost it. I drank so much that I don’t know what happened.”

From the time Darrell was ten, everyone kissed his ass, just because he is a phenom throwing a baseball. I don’t think anyone has ever told him no or denied him anything. So I can see the fear that he is facing at the thought of losing his career. But I’m not buying that he is really invested in making things with us work. Both of us let go of any chance at our marriage surviving a long time ago.