Chapter Three

After a long day of filling out medical records, making recommendations, and handling one cyborg who lost his mind after she gave him a shot, Natasha was ready to relax as she pulled up in the driveway. Her night wasn’t over yet. She was still going to have to cook dinner, clean up the dishes, take a shower, and find some time to sit down with the bills.

Turning off the ignition, the nurse sat in her car for a few minutes to address the thoughts that had been at the back of her mind all day. Brittney had texted her the number of the therapist. All Natasha had to do was call and make an appointment. Well, that and convince Nick to go with her. Counseling wasn’t anything they had talked about before, and she hoped he would be interested in doing whatever was necessary to save their marriage. She also knew that he could be a stubborn asshole when it came to talking about himself. Still, she had to ask him. It was the only way to find out.

She looked up at the ranch house in front of her. It had been their dream home once. A concrete driveway pulled up to a small garage just big enough for one car and Nick’s motorcycle. The siding had been redone a few years ago in a bright white and Natasha had painted the front door a bold red. The lilac bushes on either side of the door were on the verge of blooming. The tiger lilies they had planted right after they moved in were straining with heavy buds.

Inside the house were a spacious bedroom and two smaller ones in case they decided to have children. For now, the extra bedrooms served as an office and a storage room. The kitchen had a long bar that opened into the dining room. They even had a finished basement with an entertainment center and pool table. Natasha’s house was the perfect picture of suburban life. What had gone wrong?

As she was about to go inside, she noticed that the lights were off in the main part of the house. Normally when she came home from work, the living room light was on. Nick worked nights and should have just gotten out of bed, trying to wake up in front of the TV. Instead, the living room was dark, but a soft glow emanated from the bedroom windows.

Natasha wondered why Nick hadn’t bothered to get out of bed. Was he lazier than she thought? Or was he sick? Natasha left the car and grabbed the handle of the front door, prepared to open it quietly so she wouldn’t disturb him. The knob wouldn’t budge. It was locked, but Nick never secured the door. Frowning, she fished her key out of her purse and went inside.

She navigated her way through the house by instinct, dumping her bag on the couch before heading down the hallway to the bedroom. She went over a mental list of the foods and medicines they currently had in the house in case Nick was sick, preparing to spend a long evening waiting on him hand and foot. He could be a real baby when he didn’t feel well. And what about the bar? Who was going to run it if he couldn’t go to work? Would he leave it closed? She didn’t need another thing to worry about.

Natasha paused outside the bedroom door. Muted voices drifted out into the hallway, and a metallic taste filled Natasha’s mouth. She wanted to believe the sounds came from the television, but she knew one of the voices was his.

The other was distinctly female.

She stood completely still on the ancient shag carpeting, thinking about her options. They didn’t know she had returned home yet. She had time to fetch her purse, go back to the car, and drive off before they ever knew she was there. Eventually, Nick would notice that she hadn’t arrived and would call her, but she didn’t have to answer the phone.

Running away would be the coward’s way out. Anybody could try to leave their problems behind. Natasha had other options. She could sit down on the sofa, turn on the television, and casually wave hello when they finally emerged from their fuck fest. It would be bold and make Nick think she didn’t give a shit about what he did.

Could she possibly wait that long, trembling on the couch? Probably not. Natasha needed to act right away. Maybe that was what Nick wanted all along, to have her come home and find him in bed with another woman. He had never been good at communicating his feelings, and it would be typical for Nick to get his message across in a passive-aggressive way. Even though she might be walking straight into a trap he’d set up for her, she felt like her only choice was to face her problems head-on.

With trembling fingers, Natasha turned the knob and let the door swing open. She wanted to close her eyes or turn away. She felt like doing anything that would keep her from seeing what was in the bedroom, but her body was strangely uncooperative. Against her will, her eyes moved directly to the bed, where two forms wiggled under the covers.

The comforter slowly moved back to reveal Nick’s face. He had a look of horror in his eyes, but he couldn’t quite hide the smile that was taking over his lips. He had wanted Natasha to see them. “Why are you home this early?”

Natasha folded her arms and leaned back against the doorframe, shaking her head. Nick had never been a particularly intelligent man, and now he seemed pitiful. “Do you have any idea what time it is? I’m home late. I hit traffic on the interstate when a tractor-trailer tipped over. But don’t bother yourself with my problems. I can see that you’re busy.”

The other side of the bed revealed another body. A girl on the pillow — Natasha’s pillow — had curly, well-tousled blonde hair. To Natasha’s surprise, the bright green eyes and pouty lips of the other woman were familiar. Sharla kept the blankets pulled across her perky breasts, seemingly more modest now than on any of the nights she worked at the bar. The look of terror on her face seemed to be genuine, at least. “Natasha, I’m sorry.”

But Natasha put her hand in the air to stop her. “Don’t start, Sharla. It’s too late for apologies, don’t you think?” She didn’t want to hear any excuses. She just wanted to collect her belongings and get out of the house. If someone had asked her what she would do if she discovered her boyfriend cheating on her, Natasha would have guessed that she would be in a flying rage by this point. Even though her body betrayed her by shaking down to its core, she was surprised that her mind remained calm and clear. Crossing the room boldly, she opened the closet and dragged out a small suitcase.

“Just stay calm.” Nick didn’t even bother getting up from bed. “We can talk about this, right? You know it didn’t mean anything.”

“Thanks a lot!” Sharla cried. She rolled over and reached for her clothes, all the while trying to keep her body hidden.

“Come on, Sharla. You knew I was married.”

“Sure, Nick,” Natasha retorted as she crouched down to unzip the suitcase. “Sharla knew you were married. This was all her fault, wasn’t it? You conveniently forgot that we said vows, exchanged rings, and promised to stay together for the rest of our lives.” Why had it taken her so long to figure out that he was a loser?

The blonde bar bimbo had wiggled into a pair of tiny shorts and was pulling an equally minuscule top over her head. Natasha dared to look straight at her, assessing her slim waistline and barely-there curves. She supposed small and skinny was his type now. What a jerk.

“What do you think you’re doing with a suitcase?” Nick asked. “You aren’t leaving.”

Natasha sat back on her heels to look up at him. He was seated on the bed now, blonde hair sticking out in every direction. Nick watched her intently, and she could see in those blue eyes of his that his plans weren’t going as he had imagined they would. Nick wasn’t wearing a shirt. She could see all of the tattoos that covered his chest and arms. They could have looked sexy, from a certain point of view. Now he just looked like a dirtbag who ran a bar.

“Of course I’m not leaving.” She stood and began pulling uniforms out of the closet, not bothering to remove the hangers before she laid them in the suitcase. “I mean, my husband deliberately planned for me to come home and find him in bed with a slut from the bar. Why would I think about leaving?”

“Maybe you’re not leaving, but I am.” Sharla squirmed into the pair of flip-flops waiting for her on the floor and stormed out the door.

“Do you need a ride?” Natasha called after her.

“Hey!” Her husband looked indignant.

Natasha shrugged. “It’s not like you were going to offer to take her anywhere. It’s not polite to fuck her in front of your wife and then kick her out, you know.”

Nick was out of bed now and pulling on a pair of boxer briefs in a panic. “It isn’t like that.” He sounded as though he were trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince Natasha. “I messed up. I know. But you weren’t supposed to find out.”

“How terribly kind of you to protect me from you.” Natasha moved on to her jeans and t-shirts, tossing some favorites into the luggage.

“That’s not what I mean, either. I don’t know. It just happened. You’ve been distant lately, and I needed an outlet.”

Natasha couldn’t look at him any longer. She didn’t want to see him plead with her and couldn’t afford to be weak. “Right. First, it was her fault. Now it’s my fault, too. Gosh, between the two of us women you are getting the short end of the stick, aren’t you? Wait a second. You don’t even have that. You gave it to Sharla.”

“I can’t believe you’re joking at a time like this!” Nick exclaimed. He reached into the suitcase, scooped out the contents, and dumped them onto the floor. “Stop packing.”

Picking up the pile of clothing, Natasha threw it back into the suitcase and positioned her knee on top of it to prevent Nick from being an obstacle again. She reached over to the dresser, grabbed a handful of panties, and threw them on top. “I won’t stop, thank you very much. You’re the one who created this mess, Nick. Stop trying to make me the bad guy.” She zipped up the luggage with an angry flick of her wrist, pulled it upright, and began wheeling it down the hallway.

Nick followed her immediately. When she reached the living room, he clamped a hand onto her elbow. “You can’t leave. I won’t let you.”

Natasha stopped and looked down at Nick’s hand. The knuckles seemed too large for his skinny fingers. He had their wedding date tattooed on the back of his hand, but she could see now that instead of being a treasured memory, it was merely a prison sentence. Her voice sounded monotonic in her ears. “Let go of me. Now.” Her right hand tightened on the handle of the suitcase, prepared to swing it at his face if he didn’t listen to her.

After a moment’s hesitation, he released his grip. Natasha seized her purse from the couch and dashed out the door before Nick decided to change his mind.