Tiebreaker (It Takes Two 2)

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand plenty,” she replies darkly.

Something in her tone gets my undivided attention. “What does that mean?”

“Your father almost had an affair.”

Slack-jawed, I sit upright and search her face. My father? With his sturdy brown shoes and the khakis he’s constantly tugging up?

“Daddy?”

“Don’t look so shocked. Not that it matters, because cheating doesn’t favor attractive people––if you’re looking for trouble, you’ll find it––But your father was extremely handsome when I met him.” She casually imparts all this like I should be taking it all in stride. “Painfully shy and much too preoccupied with his studies but very handsome. The man didn’t know his own worth thanks to your dear old grandfather, may he rest in peace.” Her face tilts up with a disapproving frown. “Ronald, you were a real shit and you know it.

“Anyway, you girls were two and one. I couldn’t shake the postpartum depression. It kept dragging on. But I had babies that needed me so I devoted every ounce of energy I had to the two of you and had nothing left for myself––or your father. I neglected his needs for far too long.”

“That’s no excuse for him––”

“Shush, Maren. This is my story and I will tell it.”

My lips clamp shut and I motion for her to continue.

“There was a new professor in his department. She was attractive, had the same interests. She saw what was goin’ on and started paying a lot of attention to him.” My mother gives me an arch look. “I found a handwritten letter from her in his coat pocket.”

I’m on pins and needles, torn between dying to know and scared of what she’ll say next. “What happened?”

“I confronted him,” she tells me matter-of-factly. “Asked him if he was in love with her…I would’ve let him go if that was the case.” She levels me with a direct stare. “That’s how much I loved him.”

“Momma…”

“He said he wasn’t. That he never entertained the thought of being with anyone else. But most of all, he was sorry that he’d let me down. That he had failed me, didn’t know how to fix what I was going through…as if he could have.” My mother gazes into the blind dark of night. She shakes her head. “He’d felt helpless and lost.” She turns to me with a small smile. “So we forgave each other. Not in the way you think. He helped me forgive myself for my part and I helped him do the same.”

I think of Noah, of all he had lost. His family and dream in one fell swoop.

“We all stumble. Yes, he made a terrible mistake and he should be held accountable for his actions. But you tell me what’s worse, Maren, being the injured party or having to live with the burden of what he did to you?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Maren

I stare at the ceiling until I can’t stare anymore. I throw off the covers and without bothering to get dressed I hustle down the stairs and out the front door. The night sky pulses as a bolt of lightning divides it in two. I sprint across the street and still I’m drenched in seconds.

I pound on the door for a full two minutes before it flies open to reveal Noah rubbing his face awake. He’s naked except for his basketball shorts, which are riding excessively low on his hips.

“I want to know why. You owe me an explanation.”

Suddenly alert, he blinks in understanding before his focus moves off to the side.

“Why, Noah?”

He clamps a warm hand on my upper arm and pulls me inside.

“I’ll get you a towel.” It’s then I realize I’m standing in the middle of his foyer in a tank top and underwear, barefoot and soaked to the bone.

“I’m fine. I want to know––”

“You’re not fine,” he says over me. “You’re shaking.” He turns and walks away. I chase after him, into the living room and watch him disappear into a bathroom. When he returns with a towel, I go to grab it but he holds it out of my reach. Our eyes lock as he places it on my head and starts to carefully dry my hair.

He’s so careful with me, so tender, I’m screaming on the inside. On the outside, I’m dead quiet, carefully sorting out how best to go about getting what I want––which is closure. I came for answers and by God this time I’m getting them.

His gaze flicks down to my breasts, to my puckered nipples, very much on display in the wet tank top, and I’m yanked back to the reality that I’m standing in his darkened house wearing little else other than my righteous indignation.

“Why?” I place my hand over his on my hair, stopping him. His chin tips down, taking his gaze with it. “I need to know, Noah. After everything. Why would you do that to me?”