Married to the Wrong Man Novel – My husband, Ten treat me like an afterthought and continue prioritizing Trisha over me. When he’d called from work today to say he was heading over to Trisha’s right at five, something in me had snapped. Her thighs were over his legs and he had a hand on her bare knee. They were laughing together, and Tenn reached out to cup her face, then his hand moved to take a short strand of hair and push it behind her ear. Yes, I could see how they were working their asses off. Opening my phone’s camera, I started videotaping them, prepared me for the confrontation I wasn’t leaving here without.
When I got into my car that night, all I knew was that I was done. At the time, I just didn’t know how done. For two months this had been going on, and I’d had enough. I wasn’t spending another Friday night alone. Another weekend alone. Another weeknight alone. When his Marine buddy had emailed asking if Tenn could help his sister renovate the house they’d inherited from their grandparents, my husband hadn’t hesitated to agree. When they’d been overseas together in the Marines, Jenk had saved Tenn’s life by pushing him out of the way and taking a bullet meant for my husband.
He often mentioned that if it weren’t for Jenk, he’d be dead and if he could ever repay him in some way, he would. And that repayment to his friend arrived in the form of Jenk’s sister, Trisha, who had returned to the town she’d grown up in to take care of fixing up this home and putting it on the market. She’d come over to our house to meet Tenn and me. Trisha was tall, long-legged, very blonde and beautiful, with a flattering, chin-length haircut that framed her face. Her smile was open and charming and she had a ready laugh. Then she and Tenn had taken off to assess the house and determine what needed to be done to get it market ready.
They’d made a long to-do list and began tackling each item in order. A couple of nights a week had quickly turned into four nights a week, which had turned into five or six nights a week and all day on the weekends. She was texting him when he got home with questions she’d “forgotten” to ask him when he was over. Tenn and I hardly had any time together without Trisha intruding. I’d told him I was uncomfortable with how much time he was spending with Trisha and the constant texts and phone calls. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something in his tone, in his laugh when I heard him on the phone with her that I didn’t like.
Not at all. But when I brought it up with him, Tenn had sworn up and down he and Trisha were just trying to get the house ready to put on the market, and he was doing this as a favor for Jenk since he was currently deployed and couldn’t help his sister out. Every objection I’d made, Tenn had countered: this will be over soon; once she has the house on the market, my time will be free again; Jenk saved my life on a mission and I owe him one; I love you and I’m blind to anyone else; we’re working our asses off to get this done as soon as possible; you never have to worry about another woman, Lark.
Then he’d take me to bed or the kitchen counter or the shower and show me how much I meant to him. Yet something still kept nagging at me, and when he’d called from work today to say he was heading over to Trisha’s right at five, something in me had snapped. Two months of being pushed to the side was over. I refused to let him treat me like an afterthought and continue prioritizing this woman over me. Normally, I was non-confrontational, kind, helpful, willing to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, but I was totally over being ignored by my own husband. He’d either make it right or we were going to have serious issues. If we didn’t already. Throwing my car into park in her driveway, I stormed up the steps to her front entrance.
Walking onto the porch, I glanced through the large picture window into her living room. Then I did a double take and stared. Then I stared some more. My husband was sitting on her couch, and while she wasn’t technically in his lap, her thighs were over his legs and he had a hand on her bare knee. They were laughing together, and Tenn reached out to cup her face, then his hand moved to take a short strand of hair and push it behind her ear. Yes, I could see how they were working their asses off. Somehow, even to my untrained eye, this didn’t look like a home improvement project to me that he’d supposedly been helping her with.
This looked a helluva lot like my worst nightmare coming true. It looked like every single thing I’d been warning him about after that first week she’d come to town to fix up her grandmother’s house to put it on the market. Tenn, she shouldn’t be calling and texting you this much. I’m the only one in town she can ask, Lark. Tenn, she’s bugging you for help all the freaking time. She’s trying to get this house done, Lark. Tenn, she’s taking up your weekends and free time during the week. You aren’t even spending any time with me. Your wife! It won’t be much longer and we’ll be done, Lark.
Essentially, since it was his Marine buddy’s sister, he felt he had no choice but to spend every free moment with poor Trisha because she didn’t know the first thing about fixing up a house and Tenn was a house flipper. He’d been working construction when I met him and he’d bought his first house to flip right after our first date. He’d fixed it up and sold it for a great profit. He’d used that profit to buy two more houses that he worked on in his spare time, and eventually sold those. Tenn kept doing that until he had six homes going at a time and decided to quit construction and flip homes full time.
So this ask from Jenk was right up my husband’s alley. However, despite all of my husband’s reassurances, both verbal and very physical, no matter what he said, no matter how he soothed me, I’d continued to feel uncomfortable. And I’d told him that repeatedly, desperate for him to hear me, feeling deep inside as if something was going very wrong between us and Tenn had finally lost patience with me and told me that I was imagining things. Imagining things. Now, standing on her porch, either I’d just unknowingly consumed some hallucinogenics and was tripping out, or I was actually seeing what I was seeing through Trisha’s picture window. Sometimes when you go into shock, your body begins working on autopilot.
That’s the only way I can explain what happened next. Opening my phone’s camera, I started videotaping them. Him rubbing her knee. Her stroking his face. Them laughing. Her cuddling closer into his side. His arm around her. After a full minute, I forwarded the video to him. Wanting to vomit, desperate to curl into a ball and cry my pain out, autopilot urged me on, kept me on my feet, prepared me for the confrontation I wasn’t leaving here without. Imagining things? I saw his face turn toward his phone, which was on the coffee table in front of him. He dismissed it, even knowing it was me — I had a special alert — and he turned back to her. I took photo after photo of them and sent him the pictures. On the fifth photo, he finally reached for his phone.
He looked down at the text from me, then looked up, straight at me, still standing there on the other side of the window, unnoticed until now. Unnoticed since she’d come to town, if we were being honest. I saw the panic suffuse my husband’s face as Tenn vaulted off the couch and sprinted toward the door. I turned toward him, my hand out to stop him from coming closer, glaring my feelings at him. And then she came up behind him, putting her hand on his bicep, which he shook off. You sure weren’t shaking her off a few minutes ago, were you? In fact, you were ignoring me in favor of her. “Lark –” I cut him off ruthlessly, not wanting to hear how he’d spin this cozy little scene like he’d been spinning things for the last two months.
“Not one word from you, not one step closer, you liar.” Whoa! My voice was low and lethal, sharp and cutting, wanting to inflict the kind of pain he’d inflicted on me — had been inflicting on me. And I never swore, I was a Sunday School teacher, for heaven’s sake, but apparently finding your husband cheating on you could bring that out in a person. Who knew? “What was happening on that couch didn’t look like any home improvement project going on to me. What it looked like was a demolition project. Specifically, the demolition of our marriage.” Then I looked at Trisha. “Congratulations, you bimbo. The cheating jerk’s time is all yours now. You’re welcome to him. No need to sneak around anymore.”
In my fury, without even thinking, I picked up one of the bigger clay pots on the porch and hurled it through that picture window, shattering the glass into a million pieces. “Consider that your first official home improvement project as a couple. My gift to you.” I ran off the porch to my car, Tenn right on my heels, calling my name, grabbing my arm and spinning me around as I reached the car. Without warning, without ever having done anything of the sort before, I swiped at Tenn’s face, catching him with my nails, leaving four bloody furrows from his cheek to his mouth. I kicked at him, kept scratching at him, hands and feet flying, screaming my fury and hurt in a voice I’d never before used in my life. Undignified? Absolutely.
No doubt about it. Did I give a flying fu-ck? Absolutely not. “Lark! Lark! Stop! Stop, Lark!” I was screaming now. “Get away from me! Get away from me, you jerk! I hate you!” And I did. I hated my husband, my Tenn. Well, now her Tenn. He backed away from me three steps, four steps, shocked by my words, but I don’t know what he expected. Words of love and affirmation? Oh,no. He’d just demolished everything between us. I knew I’d been right about something going on between them. And he’d lied about it. For months. I’d warned him, I’d complained about the time he was spending with her, I’d cautioned him and he’d ruined our marriage for her, lying about her for two months. Well, there was no lying his way out of what I’d seen with my own eyes. Nothing he could say could explain this away. No more gaslighting me. Nothing he could say would make this OK. “Please, Lark. Talk to me, please,” he begged. “Talk to me. Let me explain.”
I yanked open the driver’s door and got in, locking the doors in case he tried to get to me. I threw the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway, Tenn jogging along beside the driver’s side window, begging for me to stop, to listen. Like you listened to me for the last two months? When I backed into the street and threw it into drive, Tenn was fifteen feet in front of my car, hands out, begging me to stop. To listen. His eyes were wild, and I realized I’d never seen my calm husband so frantic and panicked in the five years we’d been together. I might even say he looked terrified now that he’d been discovered.
Talk to me after you’ve been begging for two months to be heard. My mind whirled while I stared at him through the windshield, his brown eyes imploring me. Stop. Listen. What kind of idiot stands in front of his pissed-off wife’s car? I thought about my options. On the one hand, if I was truly tried by a jury of my peers, would I even be convicted? Ladies of the jury, for two months he swore nothing was going on with this other woman, but my client, his wife, saw them cuddled on a couch together “NOT GUILTY!” the twelve ladies on the jury would yell as one and I’d walk free. On the other hand, if there were some stupid men on the jury, I might be convicted, but even so, wouldn’t some jail time be worth it? I floored the accelerator. My husband’s eyes widened, and he jumped out of the way, just in time to avoid becoming roadkill.