The Marriage Rival

“As for Presley, she needs time to get through this, with you, of course.”

My lips part slightly, letting out a huff. “Presley is more interested in spending time with Sandy.”

This has been the first time I have openly admitted it to anyone. But Charlie and Lex are close friends who I trust, and I know will support me without judgment. While I’ve said a few things to Noah, his answer was always to give Presley time.

“I noticed,” Charlie admits, with a saddened face. “You’re not the only one who feels like they’ve lost someone.”

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what to do.”

“She’s your wife. She’ll come around,” Lex explains, parting his wisdom. “If you push her, she will run toward someone who doesn’t have her best interest at heart. This is life. We make mistakes, we grieve, it makes us stronger. Now, let’s celebrate this. To a life of memories and good business.”

Charlie pinches her lips while shaking her head. “Of course, you had to throw business in there.”

The three of us raise our glasses and cheers to that.

I toss and turn, pulling the sheets off, then back on, unable to fucking sleep.

Ever since our fight after the meeting two days ago, we barely communicate with each other unless it involves Masen.

This loneliness has become a vice on my heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant pain. It kills me every day just a little bit more, knowing we are moving past a point of being fixable. It fuels my nightmares, kills my concentration and desperation to hold onto what we have, driving her away. I can’t say, nor do, anything to please her. What should have been a time for us to grow together has torn us apart.

With barely any sleep, I make my way into the office early after hitting the gym. I push myself beyond my normal means, but it becomes the only thing I can control in my life.

There are a few staff here this early, but I don’t say hello, retreating to the solitude of my office with a coffee, my only diet of late. They know better than to bother me, especially when I am in this mood.

With my door shut, I spend most of the morning staring out the window in the company of my grief and

sorrow.

I’m broken.

And I don’t know how to begin to repair the pieces of me which belong to her.

We have been through things, many things, but nothing to this extent. Never to the point where our marriage is actually on the line.

The pain consumes me in ways I never imagined possible. It drives my erratic behavior and my mind. It plays dirty tricks. I have become my own worst enemy. Little things spark my jealousy, such as when Presley affectionately lays her hand on Cassandra’s in the middle of our meeting. A gesture, while simple to many, is the beginning to the madness playing in my head. She is my fucking wife. Those hands should have been comforting me, not some old friend who happens to show up at the right time.

She fights hard for Cassandra, arguing until she is blue in the face. It’s me against her, and in Presley’s eyes, it’s no longer me she sides with. I can’t say or do a goddamn thing right.

It’s almost as if she has been poisoned against me.

I shake my head, trying to erase the vile thoughts from my overactive mind. It becomes hopeless, and all I can do is throw myself into work to feed the distraction. My fucking saving grace.

For the rest of the day, I don’t hear from Presley. According to Maria, she’s in her office and asked not to be interrupted. In a way, I don’t want to face her.

There’s a knock on my door, and Clint is standing beside it waiting to enter.

“Can I speak to you for a minute?”

“If this is about my dick being pierced, for the hundredth time, yes, it fucking hurt like hell, but it’s worth the pain.”

Clint chuckles, closing the door behind him. “Actually, no, but thanks for the visual. It’s about Presley.”

I gesture for him to take a seat, leaning back in my chair as I cross my arms beneath my chest. Clint and Presley have been friends since back in our Manhattan office. I’ve known him for years, long before I stepped into this role.

“I thought I should warn you. I know this is none of my business, but if I’m being honest, Presley has been a rotten boss of late, and I think I know why.”

“Clint,” I warn him. “It is none of your business.”