What's Love Got to Do with It

Realism is in the mind of the reader, and I understand raw emotion as well as the next person. Some will take exception to my main character, whereas others will hopefully relate. I'd like to say that I've created a new storyline, but that would be a lie. I've begun to believe that authors try to take these common tropes and spin their version of reality to them.

What's Love Got to Do with It, is not a play on the famous Tina Turner song. The title hit me midway through the story, and it's more of a reflection of decisions people make, professing their love on the one hand while systematically destroying that very love on the other.

It's just a story... expect errors.

Cheers,

C_T

What's Love got to do with it

Emma and David. They were the elite of our students at Victoria Park Collegiate, located in North York, just outside of Toronto proper. Not your typical power couple in a school population of over 1200 students, but nonetheless, they were the standard all couples were compared to.

Neither was ridiculously good-looking, but attractive. Emma was a petite, olive-skinned brunette with distinct European traits from Italy. Long chestnut hair, large brown eyes, and a nose a little large for her face. She was trim but curvy, with smaller breasts and hips that turned more than their fair share of heads. Her bottom was world-class and, truthfully, it was what set her apart from the other girls. David had more of a Norwegian look about him. He was large from the day he entered high school and only proceeded to get larger each year. I think he capped out at 6'6" by graduation. His massive head was square, and his blue eyes seemed too small for his head, perhaps due to the broad, flat nose and big lips. His shoulder-length blonde hair had a permanent flow that always seemed to land perfectly with every gust of wind or dramatic head nod.

What made them truly stand out was that they were both nice. Friendly with everyone, never saying a bad word about another. Along with their substantive height and size difference, they were also intellectually opposite. Emma was in every advanced level, well on her way to a prestigious university, whereas David was good with his hands and destined for a simpler, blue-collar life. Speaking of his hands, they were absolutely massive! I guess it only suited his frame, but both his feet and hands drew a lot of attention. Of course, the adage was accurate, at least in his case. All it took was my first gym class with David to see he was abnormally large down there, too. In fact, the whole school knew it. No one could figure out how the two would be compatible sexually. I suspected they may never have gone that far, as Emma never looked worse for wear.

Em and I were in many of the same classes from grade 9 until graduation. Intellectually, we were so alike, and it helped garner a good friendship. I had a severe crush on her, but I never jeopardized our friendship. Besides, there weren't many men who could compete with the likes of David... if you know what I mean. We never hung out outside of school, but we were familiar through the hallways of VPC. Both of us had qualified for substantial bursaries and scholarships to many prestigious universities, but while I opted to go out of the country to Harvard, Em stayed at Western, in London, Ontario, to be close to David, I assumed.

Fast forward 6 years, I returned home to begin my career in Human Resources, specifically as an intermediate between employers and unions. Being an arbitrator was right inside my wheelhouse. I loved the back-and-forth, playing devil's advocate when necessary. My bullshit radar had always been very good, and it did wonders for my career. This is how I found myself in meetings with Suncor Energy and its employees' union, Unifor National. Sadly, I wouldn't be in the driver's chair for the proceeding arbitration, as I had to declare a conflict of interest. As it turned out, Suncor's labor law team was staffed by none other than Ms. Emma Callio.

As an advisor only, I was able to gaze regularly at Emma. She hadn't changed one bit. Well, that wasn't true... she was even prettier to me. The last half-decade or so had refined a pretty girl into a beautiful woman, and based on her pantsuit, she still held world-class status in the rear-end department. She caught me looking a few times and gave me a little smile that caused me to blush. After the first day of fruitless meetings, I heard my name being hailed as I exited the building.

"Mason! Mason... wait a minute." I turned to see Emma making a beeline straight towards me. "My God, Mason. It's been six years, and you couldn't make a point of saying hello?" She gave me a stern stare.

"Honestly, Emma, I wasn't sure if you'd remember me. I didn't want to assume." I gave her a soft smile.

"Seriously? You were the best partner for every project I ever did! I could never forget you!" She flashed a warm smile. "You look great, Mason! Have you been working out?"

I laughed at that, mostly because it was true. I was no slouch at a tad under 6ft, but I was always slight. My roommate at Harvard got me into morning workouts, and between the weights, swimming, and cycling, I had beefed up in a lean kind of way. "You're one to talk. You look just like you did in high school!" I'm not sure, but I think she blushed.

We walked towards the subway station, catching up on our last six years, until the inevitable questions about relationships came up. I had been in a few during my schooling, but I struggled to make the timing work, and I was never wired for one-night stands or friends with benefits, so I just threw myself into school, workouts, and diet.

"How about you?" I asked in return. "Do you and David have any little ones yet?"

"No." She looked at the ground. Sensing I had hit a sensitive nerve, I was about to apologize, but she cut me off. "We just ran our course. I got busier in school, and he visited less, especially after he traveled out west to work in the oil industry."

"Suncor?" I gave her a curious look.

"Yeah. Ironic, isn't it? Anyway, we decided it wasn't going to work long-term, so we agreed to part and be friends."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I figured you two would be together forever."

"Forever is a long time, Mason, especially starting as young teens. You grow up and things take you in different directions... that's all."

I saw Emma a lot over the next three months, and we talked whenever time and situations allowed us. Based on our roles, there was no real conflict of interest, but we both erred on the side of caution. When the deal had been struck, she caught me by surprise and asked me out for a celebratory drink.

"I'm surprised you wanted to celebrate. Your employer had to make some pretty significant allowances." I smiled as I took a sip of my draft.

"Well, technically, I'm not their employee. I was hired under contract to help out. Honestly, it could have been worse. Rumor has it someone made some pretty bold suggestions, causing the labor team to soften on a few issues." She gave me a hard stare.

"Hey! I was just an advisor. I never even spoke to the union reps personally. All my suggestions came from private meetings with our staff. So, I had nothing to do with much."

She winked. "Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Mr. Johnston."

The evening was fun and relaxing, it was like we were back in advanced chemistry again. Her eyes were full of life, and her laughter was quickly becoming my favorite sound. Before we knew it, it was close to midnight, and we both decided it was time to call it a night.

"I'm sorry I kept you so late, Mason. I hope I'm not upsetting anyone who may be waiting for you."

I caught the hidden question in her statement. "Well, there is nobody currently, and there hasn't been for a while. How about you? Have you met anyone since you and David broke up?"

"I dated a little, but nothing long-term. I needed to get focused on my career, and my life with David was so ingrained as a routine, it wasn't fair to them." Inwardly, I knew it wasn't fair for any guy to follow David. "But... I'm getting there." She grasped my forearm gently. "I'm hoping some nice guy comes along and asks me out for dinner... soon." She held my gaze long enough for me to get the message.

"Say, Emma. Would you like to join me for dinner this Friday evening? I know a great little Greek restaurant just down on the Danforth."

"Why, Mason, that would be lovely." We both chuckled at each other and then said goodnight with contacts made and plans forthcoming.

Dinner that Friday and every subsequent dinner, lunch, movie, or coffee was amazing. I felt like I was making a real connection with Em, and I was starting to believe that it might be reciprocal. It was like I was in high school again and would get butterflies whenever we met. It all came crashing to a halt one evening while we were walking through a park. She surprised me by expressing her real feelings towards me. It was what I thought I wanted, but suddenly, I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.

"Mason? Do you even like me... I mean, other than as a friend? I've been dropping heavy hints for over a month, and you've done nothing more than offer me a peck goodnight. If I'm reading this wrong, please tell me. I thought we had something good going here." She held my hand firmly and stopped me in my tracks. I tried to avoid her eyes, but she stood in front of me and stared me down until I looked back.

"Yeah. I mean, I think you're amazing." I muttered.

"So why all the shy high school stuff, Mason? We're adults now. We can do adult stuff, you know. I've wanted to do adult stuff with you from our first drink." She smiled at me, but the best I could do was smirk. She looked hurt. "What is going on in your head, Mason? Talk to me... please."

Here it was. How do you talk about this without coming off as pathetic or weak? I wanted to puke... I wanted to run. Hell, I wanted to run and puke, but her grip on my hands gave me little in the way of options. So, I went with the tested and true line. "It's not you, Emma, it's me."

"What the fuck does that mean? You give me a cheap breakup line, and we're not even really dating. Come on, Mason, I deserve better than that." She glared at me. Challenging me to come clean.

I took a deep breath and decided it was now or never. "Em. You must know that I'm not... I mean I'm..."

"Spill it, Mason." She was getting testy with me.

"I'm not David, okay!" I blurted it out. At first, she looked at me with a 'no shit' expression, but I could see the realization come to her as her eyes softened.

"Seriously, Mason?" I looked away in embarrassment. "Are you that insecure?"

Her statement struck a nerve. "You said it yourself, Emma. You lived in a routine that made it hard for other men. He isn't just larger... he's enormous! AND, you dated him for like 6 years! Hard to go back to eating hot dogs when you've dined on steak for years." She looked at me and then suddenly started giggling. Needless to say, I was feeling worse now, and I yanked my hands away. She immediately grabbed them back.

"I'm not laughing at you, but you have to admit your metaphor leaves a lot to be desired." I looked everywhere but at her until she put her hands on my cheeks and directed my face towards her. "Mason, will you come home with me? We don't need to do anything but talk. I can understand how this might be a barrier for you, but maybe we can talk it out and you can learn a few things about me."

Well, she didn't walk away laughing, I thought. She wanted to talk, so where was the harm in that, I figured. Next thing I knew, I drove her home, and she was quietly guiding me through the door of her apartment. Without a word, she sat me on her couch, removed her coat, and disappeared into the hall. I shyly looked around her place and realized she had much the same tastes as I did in art and furniture. She even had a massive flat screen that rivaled mine.

"Did you want something to drink?" She asked down the hall.

"No thanks."

A few minutes later, she came back into the room wearing a pair of yoga pants and an old sweatshirt from Western. She plunked herself down beside me and held out a purple journal that had clearly been weathered by use.

"What's this?" I asked.

"My diary... or the adult version would be a journal. It's something I've done since I was 12. Here, I want you to read this."

"I can't read this, Emma. These are your private thoughts, for your eyes only. I can't invade your privacy."

"It's not an invasion if I ask you to read it. I don't want you to read everything, but I've got a few entries I want you to see." She opened the book, flipped to a section, and handed it to me. "Here I wrote this in grade 11." She pushed it into my hands.

I know I really like David, but is it love? I wanted to save myself for the man I love. I know he wants to, but I'm not ready. In fact, I'm very nervous. I know David is much larger than most boys; I've felt it against my stomach more than once. I just don't know.

She flipped a bunch of pages and handed it back to me, nodding for me to continue. It was dated the summer before grade 12.

I don't know how much longer I can put David off. I know it's not fair, and I'm turning 18 next month. I won't be able to use that as an excuse soon. Tonight, he asked me to take it out and touch it. IT WAS SOOOOO BIG!

She reached over and flipped a few more pages until she got to where she wanted.

I know I love David, but I don't think we'll work out. He's just too big, or maybe I'm just too small. He wants to do it all the time, but it always hurts. I want to tell him, but I know it would hurt his feelings. I wish I could interest him in other things, like books and movies. All he wants to do is work on his truck and fuck.

"That was right before grad. I made him wait until I was 18, and then I no longer had an excuse. A part of me loved David. He was caring, in his own way, and made me feel safe, but we had little else in common than our social life. Once sex factored in, that's all he wanted. I had to learn how to jerk him off just so I could rest up. You see, Mason. It wasn't all high-powered sex with screaming orgasms. We had our issues. By the time I was well into university, I knew I needed someone I could relate to intellectually and physically. We were routine, but it wasn't a healthy, long-term routine."

I never once thought that a woman wouldn't be absolutely crazy for a massive cock. But here I just read her own words, and it clearly was the case for Emma. It was her feelings for David that made her hang in there, but she wasn't happy with all aspects of their relationship... specifically his weapon of mass destruction. I looked into her eyes and could see she was waiting for my response.

"I guess... I mean, I assumed you would be ruined for a normal guy after dating him for so long. I'm sorry you had to deal with the difficulties of balancing young love and duty."

"Thank you, Mason. I appreciate that." She snuggled tighter and put her hand on my leg. "I'm no different than any other woman, Mason. I've had good experiences, and I've had bad experiences. In the end, I just want to find the experience that goes the distance. Sexual chemistry is important, but there's so much more to a successful relationship. That's... what I'm looking for. What about you?" I blushed heavily, causing her to giggle. "What? What, Mason?"

I lifted my eyes to her. "I've never had a one-night stand in my life, nor do I want to." She smiled at me. "Friends with benefits? I can't do that either. I'd be too invested."

"Those are all good traits by my book, Mason." She affirmed.

"Plus..." I started. "Plus, I had a huge crush on you in high school, but never wanted to make things awkward between us, and besides, I liked David too." I took a deep breath. "I guess I'm just surprised, or amazed, that I'm sitting here with you, at this moment." Before I could blush again, she swooped in and gave me a toe-curling kiss, caressing my lips like an angel.

"You are an amazing man, Mason Johnston." Her hand slipped between my legs and squeezed my already hardening cock. "And hot as fuck!"

She leaned in and began kissing me harder, while her hand navigated the contours and length of my cock, through my pants. I momentarily froze, waiting for her disappointment to kick in, but her passion only increased, and so I let myself enjoy the situation by returning the amorous touch, by grabbing her small but firm breasts. I could feel her hands working on my zipper as we kissed. I thought of stopping her, but she was pushing me past my resistance.

"Undo your belt." She mumbled between kisses. I released her breasts and did as I was told. She then began slipping to the floor between my legs and carefully pulled my pants down to my ankles. She stared at my tented spandex boxers and smiled at the little wet spot I started. She looked me in the eyes as she reached for the waistband. "Help a girl out and lift your butt." Again, I did as I was told.

I closed my eyes as my cock was revealed. I don't know what I was expecting. I mean, it's not like I'm tiny down there. Back in high school, I measured myself like every other red-blooded boy. Depending on my state of arousal, I was pushing 6.5 inches, and right now I felt like I was as hard as I had ever been. I didn't realize how hard I was squeezing my eyes until I felt her thumb on my forehead, pushing my stress lines up.

"Mason... relax. You're perfect!" I opened my eyes just before she took me into her mouth. Her look spoke to my heart, and I finally relaxed.

After a small smirk, she engulfed me. Three of four head bobs later, she had me down to the root. She stayed there, breathing through her nose, and swallowed around my shaft. It was heaven! While the sensations sent shivers up my spine, that little section of my brain (ego?) couldn't help but notice how easily she did it.

Taking a break from her oral assault on me, Em pulled off and slowly stroked me with all the saliva she had stringing from her lips. "Fuck, I love that feeling!" I don't know if I was physically tense or if my face gave it away, but she read my thoughts immediately. "No, I could never do that to David, but I love doing it... with you." She licked me like an ice cream cone. "I hope you know, Mason, that the only one thinking about David is you. I'm right here with you. It's where I want to be."

With that, she dove back down and gave me the deepthroat blowjob of my life! It became a regular thing after that day, and over the next 9 months, we experienced everything with each other... and I mean everything. She taught me how to eat her pussy the way she likes (something David would never do, apparently). We fucked in every position, but both agreed that doggy was our favorite, especially when we did anal! Life was good... no, scratch that. It was amazing! The shadow of David crept up on me now and again, but Em was quick to put it to rest, and unless she was an incredible actress, our sex life was unbelievable.

I knew I loved Em within the first few weeks, but I needed to make sure she truly felt the same. I wanted to make sure it wasn't just a phase or a checkmark in a box. Almost 10 months to the day, I asked Em to marry me.

David remained in our past until he moved back to the Greater Toronto area. His job was two weeks in and two weeks out, so he decided to buy his grandfather's house, just outside Vaughn. We were married for two years, and when Emma told me he reached out, I felt worried about our future. After her reassuring placated me, they had met for coffee one Sunday. That was followed by the three of us going out for dinner one night. David surprised me with his blessing and happiness that we found each other. The older version of him was just as unique and genuine as his younger self, and we departed like old high school friends. It became clear to me that while David and Emma had a storied past, it was all history now...

... sort of.

**

What are those famous sayings?

Don't get ahead of yourself.

Don't count your chickens before they hatch.

Everything is great until it isn't.

The last one speaks to me the most. After 18 years, you'd think all the negative stuff was in the rearview mirror. I suppose it was, until that fateful day.

Three years after our wedding, Emma gave birth to our beautiful boy, Henry. Not my choice of a name, but Emma had always loved it. At first glance, you could tell Henry had a lot of his mother's European heritage. Dark hair, brown eyes, olive skin. I had light brown hair and brown eyes, but not a chestnut hue like Em. In the beginning, things were good. Em was the overprotective mother, but I couldn't fault her for loving our child so fiercely.

When Henry was between two and three, I felt like she was having issues trusting me with him. Our father-son time was closely managed, and it was hard to get him interested in the things I liked to do. Every father looks forward to the days when you can share the things you love with your son.

Thinking it was only child syndrome, I eventually convinced Emma that we should try for a girl, so she could have that connection with a daughter. Henry was 5 when we finally stopped trying. It would seem lightning would only strike once for our family. Emma wanted me to wear condoms because she felt going on the pill wasn't a good option for her. To have sex the way it was meant to be with a husband and a wife, I reluctantly got a vasectomy. Things weren't great on the father's side of things, but sex with my wife always made things seem better.

By the time Henry was 13, he was as tall as I and thicker. I wasn't sure, but I would bet he weighed as much as I did. He was late for school when I pushed into the bathroom to speed him up. He had just come out of the shower and was drying his hair. Now, I know this sounds creepy, but I think all dads want to know that their boy is doing okay... down there. What I saw made me feel all kinds of things. Clearly, my young teenage boy was already larger than I.

"Jeez, Dad! I'll be out in a minute!" He complained as he toweled off.

Collecting my bearings, I walked back out. "Fine. Hurry up or you'll be taking the transit!"

Look, I know how genealogy can work. Not everything that makes up a child comes strictly from the mother and father, but from the entire lineage. I mean, I should be happy for him, right? I didn't give it much of a thought until one night, Emma and I were out for a date night. We were drinking our wine, waiting for our appetizers, when I decided it was a good time to share the news with my wife.

"Well, good news. I guess we'll never have to be worried about our son keeping the ladies happy." I smirked and sipped my cabernet.

"Wh... what do you mean?" If I didn't know better, I'd say that she looked worried.

"Caught him by surprise the other day in the washroom. Couldn't help but notice he's already packing."

"Mason! That's disgusting!"

I think she was actually mad. "What? You don't think guys check each other out? He's my son for Pete's sake. I've seen him nude before, Emma. That doesn't make it disgusting." I put my glass down and leaned over the table. "You want to tell me you haven't seen our son naked? You hover all over him." I swear, she blushed.

"No... no, I haven't. Not for years." She was not all that convincing.

"Why are you getting so bent out of shape? He's our son. There's nothing sexual about it."

Needless to say, our date night wasn't very... romantic. It took a few days to blow over, although I'm still at a loss that it was even an issue in the first place. In truth, it left me a little unnerved. Her reaction didn't seem... motherly. Her entire relationship with Henry was weird. I've had other dads joke about her controlling ways, and even a few women have been verbal about it, too. No one thought it was inappropriate... just overbearing.

The next two years saw a greater divide between myself and my son. He showed absolutely no interest in the things I wanted to do, and when I offered to build on the things he liked, I was shot down by him and or his mother. "Let him breathe," she would say. Coming from her, that was rich. I knew he was preparing for a cross-country mountain bike race and thought I could support him in other ways. I bought him a high-end CamelBak, so he would have water at his disposal while riding. The no-hands feature was critical when riding rough terrain. I entered the house through the garage and went upstairs to his room, only to find it empty. I knew he had to be home, so I continued my journey back downstairs and into the rec room. We had a pool table down there, and he and his buddies would hang out there often. I could hear the distinct sounds of teenage boys as I descended the last few steps. I stood at the door and wondered if I should knock. Before I came to an answer, I overheard part of the discussion.

"So why can't you go on Friday?" I recognized the voice of Peter, a friend of Henry's from down the street.

"I told you, I have plans with my dad." Upon hearing Henry's answer, I was puzzled as to what we were doing on Friday. I didn't know we had plans.

"With this, dad or your real dad?"

*Real dad?*

"My real dad. He's in town for two weeks, and my mom is taking me over there so we can get to know each other better."

"Man, that's so fucked up," Peter commented. "Is it weird?"

There was a brief slot of silence. Henry was probably trying to fathom a good answer. "A little, I guess. I mean, my real dad seems really cool. I have more in common with him."

"So... what does this mean? Are you going to move out? Are your folks getting divorced?"

"I told you, Peter, my mom isn't leaving my dad... or her husband... whatever. She just wants me to develop a bond with my real dad for the future when I get older."

"Don't you feel bad for your other dad... your mom's husband? I mean, he raised you, didn't he?"

"Yeah. I guess, a little. We never really understood each other. At least now I know why."

"So, your mom, like, had an affair?"

"Shut up, dude! You're talking about my mom."

"Well... she was married."

"I don't know all the details, man. She was trying not to get too into it. Apparently, they dated all through high school or something like that... I..."

I'd heard enough. I quietly made my way back up the stairs and dropped the camel pack on the kitchen table. Funny how my surprise was outdone by his. I looked around the kitchen like it was the first time I'd ever been there. First, my hands started to sweat, then it was my back and neck. I could feel my breathing getting tighter, so I pulled at my collar and headed upstairs. I was shucking my clothing and headed straight for the bathroom, dropping to my knees just in time to empty my lunch into the big white bowl. Images of Em and David fluttered through my mind as I dry-heaved the last of my bile.

I reached for the counter and pulled myself up to the sink. I turned the tap on and tried splashing my face and rinsing the barf taste from my mouth. I reached into the vanity above our toilet. I knew Em kept some Maalox or something for nausea. I was blindly rummaging around when I knocked over an entire wicker basket of her stuff. Pissed off, I bent over and tried to hurriedly stuff everything back into the basket, when a pink package caught my eye. MedEmprogesterone? I flipped it around and could see the prescription tag from the pharmacy we used. It took me a minute to realize that I was looking at birth control pills. But I had a vasectomy? I scanned the details and could see it was dated over 10 years ago. At first, I felt elated by that, until it hit me. That was when we were trying for a girl. She took birth control?

I crumpled to the floor with my head in my hands, trying desperately to make sense of these revelations. No matter how I spun it in my head, Emma, the love of my life, not only cheated on me with David but lied about so many other things. I forced myself up and went straight to her side of the walk-in closet. I knew where she kept her diary or journal. Once she let me read certain passages, she never hid them again. I pulled it down from the shelf, dragging several other items to the floor. I went straight to the end of the bed and sat down.

I flipped it open and perused the entries from high school. I don't know what I was looking for as I skimmed through her adolescent comments. There was nothing after high school and I was about to flip it on the bed, when I ran my fingers across the edges, fanny the rest of them. Midway through, I saw a flicker of ink. I backtracked and found a new entry, dated back 16 years.

I can't believe I'm writing in my high school journal again, but I have no one to talk to, and my secret is killing me. David has moved back. I ran into him at the office 3 weeks ago. Apparently, he tried to track me down. At first, it was awkward, but he seemed happy that Mason and I found each other. Boy, he looked good. I had forgotten how big and virile he was. Gone was the goofy boy face, replaced with a weathered and handsome man. It was good to see him. Mason was a little nervous at first when I told him he had moved back, but I convinced him he was my only one. He is... I love Mason with all my heart.

I don't know why or even how, but it happened. Oh god, what's wrong with me? David's confession that he never got over me had a profound impact on me. I mean, I moved on. I grew as a person, and when Mason returned to my life, it all made sense.

It was supposed to be a one-off... for old times' sake. For a big guy, David can look so lost sometimes. I caved even knowing that it would be painful. BUT... it wasn't. I don't know why. Maybe my body matured... maybe the years of intimacy with Mason loosened me up, but it didn't hurt. It felt... amazing. Everything was so stretched and full, it was like he possessed my entire body. I'll have to live with my guilt for the rest of my life, I could never tell anyone about this. Especially my darling husband.

I know I had nothing left in my stomach, but that didn't stop the heaves. I wretched over and over as my life fell apart through the words of my wife. With my control back, I wiped the tears from my cheeks and flipped the page... nothing. I flipped it again, and there still was nothing. My anxiousness began to settle, thinking I'd seen the last of my painful discoveries. That was until I decided to flip once more. The knot in my stomach rekindled as my wife's written words were once again on display.

It's official. I'm the worst person in the world. Worst wife, for sure. It was bad enough that I slipped up months ago and let myself be enticed back into bed with David after all these years... but I have no excuse for what I've let happen. Like a familiar love song that takes you back, my time with David rekindled my youth. I know that my future is with Mason, but for some reason, I let myself relive my youth, acting like the future was yet to be written. Being with David had set me free from my adult life, even if it was just for a short time. Mason is the love of my life, yet I still allow myself the dirty dishonor of sleeping with David. Maybe it's just the size of him... of his penis. I can't explain how taken I feel when he's in me. I don't feel like a professional woman or a wife... I feel dominated... controlled. Making love with Mason is just that. He loves me sooo good.

The next page was a new entry, as it was written with different ink.

Oh God! What have I done? I'm pregnant and I'm not sure who the father is. Why did I sleep with David??? I'm such a stupid slut!

No matter how long I stared at the page, the words wouldn't change, and all the little signs I ignored flashed through my mind. It was so clear now, especially the physical differences between us. He was built like David! I stared out our bedroom window, taking in the cirrus clouds as they drifted by. I took stock of my life and concluded that it had all been a lie. Everything!

The sound of the boys coming out of the basement startled me enough to bring me back to the present. With renewed energy, I made a series of quick decisions. The first was to pack a bag.

"Hey, Dad! Is this for me?" David called from the kitchen. I guess he found the camel pack.

"Yes." I hope he didn't hear my voice crack.

"That's awesome! Thanks! I'm heading to the park with the guys! See ya!"

"Ya... see ya," I whispered to myself.

My overnight was jammed with necessities, as I pulled myself from our bedroom. I looked back one last time. I wanted to remember some of our good times, but I couldn't see past her betrayal. I saw her personal journal sitting on the bed, still open, where my marriage ended. I thought about putting it back where I found it; instead, I went into the bathroom, grabbed the old birth control pills, and tossed them on the bed too. If I were to make a statement, it would be a big one.

Once my stuff was in the car, I sat behind the steering wheel, deciding my next course of action. First off, I wanted to throw Emma off as long as I could, so I sent her a text.

Emergency situation. Flying to Ottawa. I'll touch base when I'm settled in. Details to follow. Mason.

With that out of the way, I pulled away from my home, likely for the last time, and headed for the 400. I traveled towards a little town named Sutton. They had a 5-star resort located on Lake Simcoe, with a professional-grade golf course. I had done some contract work for them early in my career, and the principal owner had become a good friend of mine. He'd always invited me to come for a stay, and today was the day I would be taking him up on that.

My early departure helped me avoid the crunch of rush hour and landed at The Briars 75 minutes later. After pulling into the parking lot, I took a look at my phone. A message from Emma was received 30 minutes ago.

Oh pooh! I thought they couldn't do that to you anymore?? I'll miss you! Call me when you can! xoxo

I did a quick calculation, based on her normal schedule, and figured it would be another 3 hours before she entered our bedroom to change from her day. I suppose she may go out instead. Maybe take Henry for an extended visit with his... dad!

I shook my head and turned my phone off. I already spoke with my boss, and she knew I was taking a few days off and would be out of reach for that time. I needed to get my head on straight. I had a lot of decisions to make in the next 48 hours. With my bag in hand, I walked into the lobby of the resort and found my old contact, Wilson, waiting for me in the office behind the reception desk.

"Mason Johnston! To what do I owe the pleasure? Where's your beautiful wife?"

I downplayed the reunion, and he was quick to read between the lines. The girl at the front desk looked uncomfortable. The elephant in the room was large and looming.

"Come with me, my friend. Let me buy you a drink before I show you to your room."

He motioned for me to follow him behind the desk. I quietly tailed him to a large office down the hall. Once he shut the door behind me, he walked straight to an impressive wall of liquor. He pulled a small key ring from his jacket pocket and squatted down to the cupboard below.

"Something tells me, we're going to need the good stuff." I gave him a forced smile as he began to pour us a healthy shot of some gold-colored liquid.

**

Emma

I had just gotten off the phone with my son Henry. He told me about the camelback Mason bought him, giving me a smile... a guilty smile. Mason was such a good man, and he tried so hard to be a good father to Henry. For the millionth time, I berated myself for my weakness. A weakness that not only allowed me to go to bed with my ex-boyfriend but also to produce a child that I inevitably had to admit was his and not my husband's.

Despite my guilt, the early years until elementary school were easy for me to convince myself that he was Mason's. But as time went by, I could tell I was fooling myself. I could see it in his facial expressions and the Norwegian squareness of his jaw. As he grew into a teenager, his rapid physical development put away any last doubts I hung on to. Every day, I tried to come up with a way to explain things to Mason, but none of them even convinced me that we could work through it.

I remember the time Mason made a crack about the size of Henry's penis. I snapped at him for being so gross, but it was purely a defensive response. The truth was, I did know. I once walked in on him masturbating. I was shocked because he was still so young, but he was already a man between the legs. My glimpse was cut short by both of our embarrassment, but it was obvious that he was already much larger than Mason.

I shook the memory and feelings aside. Despite my foolish weakness, two things were clear. Having Henry was the best thing to happen to me, and two... Mason was the man I truly loved. I've juggled this conundrum for years, and some days I feel like I'm about to burst. It got worse when I got a call from David four years ago. He had run into Henry at an antique car show... just another interest they shared. He had recognized him from the pictures I'd shared with him over the years.

He randomly asked me if my son was his. He saw too many similarities and, despite not being overly intelligent, even he put two and two together. I broke off our sexual liaisons right after I found out I was pregnant... that was another clue. We met shortly after, and I confessed to him. I told him that Mason knew, but we never talked about it. He agreed to look past it and raise him as our own. David was shocked that Mason would be okay with it, but I begged him to never bring it up if he spoke to him. It was still a touchy subject, and I doubted my marriage could handle revisiting it. He agreed, but he wanted to meet Henry... and so they have many times.

Lying to Mason and David was tough enough, but lying to Henry was even tougher. He asked too many questions about David and their similarities. I finally admitted that David was his real father, but only because Mason wasn't able to have children (another lie). I assured him that Mason was aware but that we never spoke of it. Talking about it would only emasculate him more, and he didn't deserve that, considering the sacrifice he made for me.

I walked into the kitchen, leaving my work bag on the table. It was a bit early, but I poured myself a glass of wine. Days like this, when I revisit the tangled web I've weaved, alcohol helps calm my nerves. I walked out the patio doors and sat on the loveseat we had around our little gas fire pit. After a couple of deep gulps, I let myself relax, pushing the list of betrayals back into the little room I created deep in my mind.

I pulled out my phone, looking to see if Mason had landed in Ottawa yet, but there was nothing from him. I reread his earlier message, thinking it was weird that it sounded so rushed, with not even a "love you" or xoxo. I don't think I could ever remember a time he had done that before. Even when we argued, he always said something sweet. Impulsively, I sent him another message. I hoped it would make him smile.

Miss your warm, sexy body. Think of me when you're in the shower! Lol... xoxo

I finished my wine and went back inside. I poured a smaller amount into my glass and decided to go upstairs and change into my non-work clothes. Mason loved his shorts, no matter what season it was. For me, it was my black leggings. They were extremely comfortable, and the fact that they made Mason obsessed with my bottom was a wonderful side benefit. I smiled at his obsession with my bum. He was truly the love of my life.

I walked into our room, placed my wine glass on the dresser, and went into our ensuite to go pee. I completely removed my skirt before I sat down, knowing it was headed for the laundry anyway. Once my business was done, I re-entered the bedroom, pulled my leggings out, and tossed them on the bed. I removed my bra and slipped one of Mason's old T-shirts over my head, smiling at his lingering scent.

I grabbed my wine and took another sip as I walked to my bed and grabbed my leggings. Realizing I couldn't put them on while holding my wine, I turned to put them down, but something under my leggings caught my eye. With wine in one hand and leggings in the other, I focused on the purple item on my bed. It took a moment, but I recognized my journal... what was it doing open on our bed? I dropped my leggings and picked it up. As soon as I saw the words, the red wine was staining our carpet. I crumpled to the edge of the bed, not believing what I was looking at.

"Oh my God... he knows."

I hadn't even noticed that I was already crying. The pain in my stomach and chest overshadowed my waterworks. Why had I even written this in my journal? How could I be so stupid? The truth was, my secret was so large and so dark that I couldn't share it with anyone but myself. I fell back on the bed, my head hitting something plastic. I reached underneath and pulled out the final dagger.

Birth control? Fuck! I never threw them away! "Nooooooo! Mason!"

I forced myself up and scrambled for my phone. My hands were shaking so hard, it took me longer than normal to make the call.

"You've reached the voicemail of Mason Johnston. Your call is important to me, please leave your name and number and I will return your call at my first opportunity.... Beep."

I sniffled for the first ten seconds. "Mason? Please, Mason... I love you." I immediately broke down and began sobbing from the depths of my soul. I dropped the phone and curled up on the floor, crying at the likely end of my marriage.

"Mom! Mom, are you okay?" I awoke to the panicked voice of my son. I looked up at him and started crying again. He hugged me and helped me back up to my bed. "What's wrong?" Henry's face was full of concern. "Where's Dad?"

Oh, the irony of his question! Even I wasn't sure which man he was referring to at the moment, but there was only one on my mind. "I... I lost him."

**

Mason

My head was both thick and fuzzy. Wilson had proven to be a great listener last night, and whatever he served up was just what I needed to lubricate my emotions. I was sad... I was angry.... Hell, at times I even felt indifferent, but Wilson never let any of them get carried away.

I barely remember making it to my room; in fact, I had fallen asleep in my clothes. My first order of business was a shower, while I drank as many bottles of water as I could from the mini fridge. An hour later, I made my way to the quaint restaurant that was part of the resort. I had a vague memory of eating some chicken wings last night, but right now all I needed was coffee and some starch. I ordered two sides of toast, and thankfully, my server left a full carafe of coffee for me.

"And he lives!" The voice of the obvious statement pulled up an opposing chair and poured himself a coffee. "How's the head?" Wilson's question was an indictment with a sliver of care.

"I hope I didn't make an ass of myself last night. I can't thank you enough for the hospitality... and distraction." I raised my coffee cup in his honor.

"Nonsense. For a man in deep pain, you were actually good company." His smile made me chuckle. The backhanded compliment was quite funny. "So, what's the plan today?"

"I'm not sure. I'm guessing Emma has come across the little hints I left for her by now. I'm afraid to turn my phone back on." I took a sip of coffee. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for the reality part of all this."

"I have nothing for you, my friend. They don't exactly make a game plan for this type of thing." I sat back and sighed. "If it were me, I'd want to get the initial confrontation over. I know you had your mind made up last night, but until you go through the process, you're just reacting and not thinking."

I pursed my lips and nodded at his advice. It made sense and was the responsible thing to do. Based on the degree of apathy I was currently feeling, I doubted there was little chance of us working this out.

"Tell you what. Do what you have to do and meet me here for lunch. If you feel up to it, we'll go do nine holes." I lifted my cup again to show my appreciation. "No holes in the wall." He gave me a steady stare that slowly morphed into a smirk.

"No holes... I promise." Wilson patted my shoulder as he headed off to do some work.

After a few pieces of toast, I pulled my phone out and turned it back on. Moments later, it was a fountain of pings and swooshes as my text messages, emails, and voicemails came through. It was no surprise that Emma's name was attached to almost all of them. 20 text messages and 12 voicemails. All the emails were work-related or spam, but what caught my eye was a call missed by Henry. I hadn't expected that. I don't know if I was ready for that conversation. I finished my toast and took the carafe up to my room. If I was going to start the process, I needed to be alone.

I had just closed the door from inside my room when a call came through. I anticipated it to be Emma, but was surprised that the name of my boss was displayed. I told her I would be out of contact. I suppose it was my fault for turning my phone back on.

"Good morning, Linda," I answered.

"Oh! I didn't expect you to answer."

I chuckled, "Then why did you call?"

"Well, I intended to give you a heads up and to chew your ass out at the same time." She wasn't angry, but I could tell she wasn't happy either.

"Let me guess, Emma?"

"Yes, Emma. Your personal life is just that, Mason, but you could've at least warned me. I would've avoided her calls."

"I'm terribly sorry, Linda. I'll admit that I hadn't thought about everything. The last 16 hours have been, well... a lot."

Her silence at the other end told me she was trying to pick her next words carefully. "That bad, Mason?"

"Life upside down, kicked in the teeth, balls crushed in a vice... bad." I thought I was being humorous, but neither of us found it funny.

After some kind words, a suggestion to seek counseling through our company's EAP, and being told I was taking all next week off, I got off the phone with Linda. I was surprised by her compassion, if I was being honest. Oh, I respected the woman. She's been a mentor of mine for years, although unknowingly. It was a side of her I didn't know existed, and that made me reflect on our working relationship. She truly knew how to separate her work life from her personal life.

A quick peek at my watch told me I had an hour and forty minutes before I was supposed to meet Wilson for lunch and a round of golf. I thought about blowing it off, but the distraction sounded too good.

"Where do you start, Mason? Voicemail or texts?" I asked myself.

The first voicemail was her initial contact, so I decided to start with that. The time stamp said it was one hour long. Was I truly ready for this? I hit play and put it on speaker.

It started with several seconds of audible sniffing. "Mason? Please, Mason... I love you." The pain in her voice hit me hard. I tried to be strong... indifferent, but I could feel my tears begin. After four minutes of silence with the occasional distant sob, it was clear she had either dropped the phone or forgotten to hang it up. I gave it another few minutes before I ended it. Fuck... this was way harder than I expected. I figured I'd get mad and build from there, but this... this was painful.

I wasn't ready to hear that pain again, just yet, so I scrolled to Henry's call. It was sent just after midnight. My finger trembled as I hit play.

"Uh... Dad. It... It's Henry." Dead air. "I know you must be angry right now, and I want you to know that I understand that." A deep breath. "But... but mom is not doing well. She's in a bad way." More dead air. "I... I don't know what to do. Can you help her... please? Maybe call her or... I don't know. It's painful watching her like this. I think you could make it better if..." He paused like he wanted to get his next words right. "She loves you more than anything. I know she messed up, but..." I heard him sniff. Like he was trying not to cry. "She needs you, Dad."

After a few more seconds of silence, he hung up. No... this wasn't going at all how I pictured it. I expected Henry to be indifferent, and Emma to stick to the cheaters' list of excuses. This was anything but. It was my turn to weep. Frozen in grief, I was unable to do anything but lie down and take it all in.

I awoke after a short doze, realizing I had 10 minutes to meet Wilson downstairs. Despite my lack of action in dealing with my situation, I felt I needed the distraction and pushed myself to be available for the afternoon. I was going to come through this... even if it killed me.

Lunch was good, and our conversation was general enough to keep my head clear. We walked to the clubhouse, and two carts were waiting for us. He had arranged a set of loaner clubs for me, and each of us had a caddy. The clubs were far more impressive than the set I had at home, but what truly caught my attention was our caddies. Two young women were standing off to the side, with the clubs standing in front of them.

"Mason, this is Marie and Leiha. Both are training to be golf pros and are hoping to run their own country clubs one day. Before you go all macho about forcing them to carry our clubs, you should know that they volunteered. I had put in a request for caddies today, and they signed up."

Both women smiled and nodded in agreement to Wilson's statement. "Actually, I'm more worried about embarrassing myself in front of a real pro. It's not like I play that often." I was being honest. No man wants to look like a fool in front of any female... especially at a sport.

"A real man would accept good advice, no matter who the source," Leiha spoke up with a disarming smile. A smile that most men would fall all over for. I guess I looked embarrassed, being called out for my male ego. She lifted the clubs over her shoulder and walked towards me. "Let's start with your name." She wouldn't look away until I answered.

"Mason. Nice to meet you, Leiha."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mason. Shall we?" She gestured to the path that led to the first tee.''

Once there, I pulled in tight to Wilson, asking him if he was trying to embarrass me. He chuckled and gave my shoulder a soft tap, assuring me that this was about relaxing and not overthinking anything. He knew I had enough going on in my head, and I suspected he was just trying to ease my burdens.

After his decent drive, about 195 yards to the right, I stepped onto the tee box and planted my ball and tee. I took a couple of practice swings, trying to find a rhythm through some muscle memory, but it all felt off. It's been three years since I played, and my body knew it. My swing felt pretty good as I came into the ball, but I must've lifted my eyes and topped it, bouncing it 20 yards onto the fairway.

As I picked up my tee, I gave a strained grin to Wilson. "Sorry. It's been a long time since I played. Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"Nonsense! It'll come back. Think of it as going for a walk. No one's keeping score."

The walk to my ball took no time at all, as I turned to Leiha to grab my three-wood. She already had it out, waiting for me.

"At least it was straight." She commented. Her look was serious for a moment, but the grin followed shortly after.

"Building on the positives. Got it." I smiled back as I addressed the ball.

This time, I made good contact and sent the ball a good distance with a small hook to the left. I felt better, and Wilson yelled, "There you go!"

I handed my club back to Leiha as we began our trek through nine holes. I'd like to say that things got better, but I made far more bad shots than good. Leiha had asked if she could offer some tips, and I accepted graciously. Between shots and teaching tips, I found Leiha to be a hidden ray of light. She was personable, intelligent, and observant. Almost too much so...

"Mason. Could I ask you a question?" I shrugged and kept walking towards my ball. "I can tell that you have the physical capacity for this game, but your brain and muscles aren't communicating very well. You seem distracted; are you okay? You're not upset with having a female caddy, are you?"

I laughed inwardly at her question. "Honestly, Leiha, you're the best part of my game today." She smiled at my compliment. "But yes... You are quite correct about being distracted. I'm facing some turmoil in my life right now, and my friend Wilson is trying to help distract me."

"Business or personal? She immediately regretted her question when my eyes dropped to watch my feet walk along the grass. "I'm sorry. That's none of my business. I shouldn't have even asked."

She handed me a pitching wedge, as I lined up my approach on the par 4; technically chipping for par. Good news; I landed on the green... bad news; I had a good 40 ft put, downhill.

"My marriage was turned upside down yesterday. I'm trying to figure out which way is up at the moment." I handed her the wedge and walked to the green.

We finished the ninth hole after 2 and a half hours. Thank God we didn't keep score. I'm sure there were more than a few snowmen that would've graced my card (even on a par three). Wilson and I walked back to the resort, and I thanked him for the game and the distraction. I even thanked him for my caddy. She was pleasant company, at least.

He invited me for dinner, but I begged off, knowing I had too many things I had to address today. I couldn't hide forever, and I needed to start making plans. I had to go home sooner or later and in order to do that, I needed to come to terms with my life.

I spent the bulk of my night reading the text messages from Emma and listening to her voicemails. Each one sounded more desperate and despondent than the next. My broken heart was soon turning to anger. I was angry about what she did and all her lies, but now I was getting angry because she wanted to make it right. How the fuck could she do that? How can you unfuck so much and move forward?

More texts and voicemails came through, but I wasn't answering any of them. I sat in my chair with my head in my hands, praying for strength. Strength to deal with this... strength to move forward. My stomach growled, and I looked at the clock, realizing it had been hours since I ate. I missed dinner. I put on some casual clothes and headed to the bar for a drink and maybe some chicken fingers. On the way down on the elevator, I pulled out my phone, turned it on, ignoring the new messages, and texted my son... well, Henry.

Not ready to deal with all of this. I'm not drunk or in jail. Tell your mother I will reach out when I'm ready. Hounding me isn't going to speed things up. Mason.

Before he could reply, I turned my phone off again and walked towards the lounge once the elevator stopped on the main floor. It wasn't that late, but the lounge was dead. As far as I could tell, there were maybe 10 people in the whole place. I wandered up to the bar and sat at the far end, where I could see the whole room. It was a habit I picked up from my bar-hopping days. I placed my phone on the counter and ordered a double whiskey on the rocks.

A plate of chicken fingers and three whiskey rocks later, I felt a little better. I'm pretty sure it was the buzz that helped me. After confirming with the bartender that I was staying at the resort, he made me a fourth double. You had to appreciate his caution. Just when he set the drink in front of me, my eyes caught movement, and it was coming straight towards me.

I lifted my glass and took in Leiha. Gone was the caddie's attire; replaced with a black skirt that went mid-thigh, with a Lilac sleeveless blouse. Her hair was pulled up on both sides, with strategic curls defying the updo. She looked amazing. I was mid-sip by the time she made it to my side.

"Someone looks like they're trying to drown their sorrows." She leaned on the bar and looked at me.

"Still a free country, right?" I have no idea what I meant by the comeback. I was not thinking on my feet at all. At least she gave me the decency to giggle at it.

"Scott? Can I get a vodka-cran, please?" She spoke to the bartender without even looking at him.

"Sure thing, Leiha."

She sat beside me, and I gave her an inquisitive look. "Oh. I'm sorry. Are you waiting for someone?" Her voice wasn't sarcastic, but the cheesy grin was.

"Suit yourself." I spit the ice cube back into my tumbler. She was silent while she waited for her drink, and when it came, she took a few sips through the small straw.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She put her drink down.

"Sadly, I don't think it's worth you losing money over." I expected a snappy retort, but instead, I got a thoughtful stare.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" She watched me take another sip. "You know, they say that sometimes a stranger can be the best sounding board for your troubles. They have no personal investment, no loyalties."

"So, what's in it for you? Entertainment?" I was a little snarky.

"Hardly. I take no enjoyment from their troubles." I felt her hand on my arm. "If I hadn't already figured it out, Wilson speaks volumes to the kind of guy you are. I hate seeing you burden whatever you're carrying by yourself."

I looked down at her hand and then back at her face. She had a very inviting look about her.

"And no... I'm not trying to pick you up. My girlfriend would lose her tits." Her comment caught me so far off guard that I actually laughed. "See. You're happier already!" Her smile was infectious, drawing one out of me as well. "And despite what I just admitted to you... Not all women golfers are lesbian!" I spit out my mouthful of whiskey, I was laughing so hard.

Scott must've thought we were nuts as he shook his head at our antics. When we finally calmed down, I had to admit I felt better. With no further prompting, I unloaded the details of my deceitful marriage and parenthood. I was surprised by how easy it all came out. I had to stop a few times to collect myself, but Leiha sat quietly and patiently, letting me finish at my own speed. When I was finished, a fresh drink was placed in front of me, and Scott tapped his hand on the bar.

"On the house, mate." It didn't even dawn on me that he could hear everything I just unloaded to Leiha.

Speaking of Leiha, she grabbed my arm and immediately dealt with my embarrassment. "Don't mind, Scott. He's a true bartender and professional. He has heard all kinds of things. It's just his way of saying he's got your back."

I gave Scott a brief smile, and he flicked his head in acknowledgement. "So that's me," I whispered to Leiha.

"Any idea what you're going to do?"

I looked up at the ceiling and closed my eyes. "Not... a... fucking... clue." I responded. Leiha was silent. I'm guessing she was as shocked as I was. "I know this isn't about golf, but I'm open for advice." I raised my glass in her direction.

"Wow..." She sipped her straw. "That's so fucked up. Oh shit... sorry, Mason." I shrugged my shoulders in response. "This may be a stupid question, but have you talked to her?"

I shook my head. "Why? You think it will help?" My sarcasm was evident.

"Help? No. I mean, there's no way to explain this in any way that sounds logical. That doesn't mean it was an intentional slight." My head snapped to look at her. "Easy Mason, I'm not condoning shit here. All I'm saying is, with the little information I have, it sounds like she loves you. She obviously cheated, and Henry is proof of that, but that doesn't mean her love isn't real. We all fuck up at some point... just some do a really good job of it."

"Even if she does love me, is that enough to fix..." I raised my hands in exasperation. "Whatever this is?"

"I'm a realist, Mason. To answer your question, I'd say no." She sipped her drink again. "For me, it's the long-term deceit. If she had come clean early on, maybe there could've been a chance, but I know I would never be able to trust that person again... and I'm a fricken lesbian." She smirked at her last words. "And I'm not you."

I nodded my head at her assessment of the situation. Vindicated, that she understood where I was coming from, but depressed because it meant admitting my marriage was over. The two of us closed the lounge down. Scott had joined us for last call, and although I had no clear plans on how to move forward, I at least felt that I could. I'd have to mention to Wilson how awesome his staff was.

I awoke the next morning, feeling better than I thought I would. I suspected Scott had watered my drinks down as the night went on. I made a point of seeing Wilson before I left and thanked him profusely for the much-needed break and support. When I told him about Leiha and Scott, he smiled in a way that told me he already knew what they did for me.

It wasn't even 9 before I hit the 400, heading back... home? No, it wasn't home anymore. I would go to the house, have it out with Emma, and find a hotel until I could make permanent decisions. Speaking of decisions, what was I going to say to Henry? Would he even care? And then there's David. He's a huge factor in all of this. I needed to see my lawyer. David was going to pay, one way or the other. No more Mister Nice Guy!

I pulled into my driveway just before 11. There was a vehicle parked in my spot, and I didn't recognize it. It could be a friend of Henry's or Emma's, I surmised. I stood at the front door and took a deep breath. It was about to hit the fan.

The door was open, so I put my keys in my pocket and slowly entered the foyer. The house was quiet, except for the TV. I walked into the living room and saw Henry sitting in my recliner, watching a game show.

I cleared my throat. "Shouldn't you be in school?" My voice was calm.

The surprise on his face would've been comical if not for the circumstances. "Dad? Uh, no. It's Sunday." He suddenly came out of the chair. "Uhm, we didn't know if you were coming back." He looked nervous.

"Honestly, I wasn't sure either, but I have to talk to your mom at some..."

"Who is it, Henry?" Came a voice from someone entering from the kitchen.

That voice. The voice of my old high school friend. Emma's old flame. The father of my son. I turned around as he walked into the living room with a tea towel over his shoulder.

"Oh! Mason. I didn't know you were coming."

Was he mocking me? All thoughts of dealing with this situation rationally were lost. Lost... like my temper. Without even thinking about it, I walked right up to David and punched him as hard as I could in the face; neither of us expected that. While his head moved, the bones in my hand took the worst of it. The pain indicated that I likely broke something. I turned, and David was in defense mode now.

"Mason! Let's talk about this." His attempt to diffuse me only increased my rage.

"You fucking neanderthal! I fucking hate you!" I came back with a swing from my other arm, but he easily backed away.

He had his hands up. "Easy, Mason! We don't have to do this!"

I swung my arm in a backhand motion, harmlessly deflecting off his thick shoulder. It made no difference, I was relentless. I attacked him repeatedly, getting the odd shot through his broad forearms. I vaguely heard Henry calling my name, but my rage was too much to process his request.

In the end, it didn't matter anyway. David was finally able to wrap me up with my arms pinned to my sides. I was like a fly on a horse. A nuisance more than a threat. I flung my head back and heard a crack.

"Fuck!" David growled behind me. His grip around me got tighter, and I could feel the air being cut off from my lungs.

"Dad, Dad! Let him go!" Henry was now pulling at David's arms.

I could feel my ribs closing in. Not that it mattered. My heart was already broken.

"DAVID!" I vaguely saw Emma at the foot of the stairs. Her scream finally got the big guy to let me go, and I fell like a limp doll to the floor. "Mason!" She ran to me, but I pulled away from her touch.

I rolled to my knees, trying to regain some of my dignity. I was easily manhandled by David. I sat on the floor with my back to the couch and smiled a little when I saw the blood running from his nose. At least I got one hit in. Emma came towards me again, and I flinched at her reach, causing her to sit back on her knees and cry into her palms.

I looked at Henry. He looked like he was in shock, staring back and forth between me and his real dad. David self-corrected his nose with his hands, creating a disgusting sound. I pulled my knees up and rested my forearms on them.

"I guess I should've called first. I didn't mean to break up the family reunion." Emma dropped her hands and looked at me. She looked horrible. Her once bright and cheery eyes were nowhere to be seen, replaced with sunken orbs surrounded by darker circles.

"Look... Mason," David tried to start the conversation.

"Fuck off David! I have no doubt you could kill me easily, and if you open that fucking mouth again, I'll force you to do it!" My outburst caused Emma to gasp.

"I... asked him to come over, Dad. I was worried about Mom, and you wouldn't answer our calls..."

"Don't do that," I said flatly.

"Do what?" Henry looked confused.

"Call me dad." On cue, Emma let out a wounded howl.

"No!, No, no, no. No. You are his father!"

I was stunned at Emma's proclamation. "You can't be serious? You have thwarted any attempts of mine to be his father from the day he was born. I was just too stupid to understand why."

"I... I didn't... I wasn't sure in the beginning." Emma sobbed.

"Thanks for the heads up, Em. Tell me, when did you figure it out? Besides the fact that you were having an affair with your old boyfriend, when did you realize that Henry was his?" I glared at her, but she couldn't answer. The silence spoke volumes.

Despite my warning, the jolly Norwegian giant had to open his mouth. "I'm sorry we did that to you, Mason, I really am. But when Emma got pregnant, she ended it right then and there. We lost contact for years... until." He paused and looked at Henry. "When I found out, Emma said you knew. You knew Henry was mine, but you were willing to look past that, as long as we never spoke of it. I had so much respect for you for keeping your family together." I stared daggers at Emma. It took a few minutes, but David finally caught on. "You didn't, did you?" He ran his large hand through his Thor-like hair. "Fuck me!"

"Mom said you couldn't have children, so you allowed my d... uhm, David, to help out. She told me never to bring it up because it was a sore spot for you."

Emma fully collapsed to the floor. Her network of lies began crumbling all at once. She lied to everyone... even herself. "Did she tell you I wanted to give you a brother or a sister? Probably not, since it was never going to happen. The whole time I thought we were trying; she was taking birth control to make sure that it didn't." The look on Henry's face was full of confusion.

I pulled myself up and stood beside the couch. "If I can give you some parting fatherly advice, Henry. One day, you'll find that woman whom you can't live without. The one you can't imagine your life without. Run. Run as far as you can and don't look back. Save yourself from all the pain."

I turned and walked out the door. I heard Emma howling in despair and Henry calling my name, but it didn't matter. They were a family now. I was expendable.

Epilogue:

It's been a long road, but I finally feel like I've gained my life back. The months following the showdown in my old house were difficult... for everyone. Even though I knew I could never stay with Emma, watching her suffer was hard on me. Oh, it was all self-induced, but you can't shut off the type of love I had for her. She was my lobster.

Her betrayal of me was only one of the things she had to own up to. She lied to David and Henry as well. Months of therapy helped with many things, but I could never understand her motivation for the things she did. Her infidelity was the only thing that made sense, if that's the right way to express it. People make poor choices... people cheat. But the web of multiple deceptions and the birth control pills... I had to stop thinking about it. I would never move forward if I dwelt on all I'd never know.

The divorce took longer than I had hoped. Emma didn't challenge anything. It was an even split. She has custody of Henry, of course. I refuse to pay alimony or child support, and she wisely didn't fight that either. If she had, I would've gone after David for back support, especially since he knew long before me. I also would've dragged her through the courts, suing for every type of emotional and psychological abuse I could. Again, she didn't. The delay had more to do with her mental health. She had a complete breakdown shortly following that day, hence my concern for her.

Henry has tried to reach out a few times, but it's not a relationship that I feel I can be a part of. I wish him well, but there's too much to unpack. Besides, he has his real father in his life now. I have no interest in being a third wheel.

I haven't spoken with David either. The cast I wore on my right forearm for 6 weeks was more than enough to remember him by; I swear his head was a cylinder block. I'd like to be the bigger person and wish him well, but let's just say I'm not there yet. Hopefully, with therapy, I will forgive, if for no other reason than to unburden myself. He'll never hear from me.

So here I sit, 16 months later, in my office. I do have a small house, but I spend the better part of my life at work. It was my saving grace. I believe I got better at it while managing my personal life.

"I appreciate the dedication, Mason... but go home!" My boss, Linda, just poked her head in my door. She hates that she's not the last to go home anymore.

I waved my hand at her and started cleaning my desk. Before I could put my laptop to sleep, an email notification popped up from my personal account. Curious, I opened it and immediately regretted doing so. It was from Emma. It's been a long time. I had a hard time remembering the last time we spoke to each other. Unless it involved lawyers or therapists, I don't think we've communicated at all, directly. I looked at the email heading, and all it said was... Mason.

Here, I thought I'd moved on, but the contents of my stomach trying to reappear told me I had just been kidding myself. Within three minutes, I had changed my mind nine times about what I should do. Leave it, read it, leave it, delete it, read it... You get the picture. Before I knew it, my finger clicked the mouse, opening the message...

Mason:

I don't know if you'll even read this, but I've spent months trying to put this letter together. Through bouts of anxiety and depression, I forged ahead, hoping I would be able to explain myself for the things I'd done to you. My therapist has been trying to convince me to send this for weeks, and if you're reading this, I guess I finally found the courage.

How does a person apologize for their deceiving ways? Honestly... I have no clue. Rather than repeat apologies that I'm sure will feel empty to you, I'm going to try and explain what led me so astray. Lies that I created, thinking I was protecting you when in truth, I was protecting myself. It took a long time for me to admit that. Admit that I was a selfish person who manipulated others to ease my guilt. I hope that somehow, I'm able to give you some form of closure. You deserve it.

First and foremost... I LOVE YOU. Despite everything I've done, it was never because I didn't love you. I know you lived through many of my lies, but that one truth will always remain.

I didn't go looking for an affair with David. I wasn't unhappy...

(blah, blah, blah) I won't bore you with the four pages that had a lot of I'm sorry. The pattern was easy to establish, though; she lied to me, then lied to David, then to Henry. The common denominator, of course, was that each lie was to deceive me and keep me as an unknowing cuck who raised another man's kid. She tried to explain about the birth control pills and how having another baby would've created more pain... what the actual fuck?! Even her admissions sounded crafted... like everything would've been fine if I hadn't found her journal.

She asked me not to penalize Henry in all of this. Despite the genetics, he saw me as his true father. Apparently, the honeymoon phase of their relationship had ended when he no longer had a father figure. David was more like a big brother... so she said. I know some people will see my indifference as juvenile, but the way I see it, he knew what was going on... what was happening around me, and he took the selfish way out. Sound familiar?

After reading it a few times, I could only gather one true observation. If she could do all of this to me and profess how much she loved me, what would she do to me if she didn't? Scary when you think about it. It was a lot to take in. Closure... I'm not sure how she thought this would bring me closure. Closure for her, maybe, but the hole she left in me was still there.

I closed my laptop and stared out the window. I suppose I'd have to respond one day. It would be the proper thing to do. But what could I say? "Thanks for explaining how you fucked up my life and that I was never enough?" Bitter... but true.

Maybe I should take the high road... "Thank you for your explanations. Maybe one day I can forgive you." No... that was bullshit.

I grabbed the final things I needed from my desk and headed out the door. I got halfway down the hall before I stopped and turned around. I realized that I didn't need time to digest anything. So, I returned to my office, tossed my stuff back on the desk, and opened my laptop to her email.

Emma:

Your thoughtful words are only a reminder of how easily you played me for a fool. I doubt that I am or ever was the love of your life. I don't believe you are sorry for your infidelity or cuckolding me with another man's child. I do believe that you are sorry your charade fell apart on the home stretch of your perfect life.

For my mental health, I suppose one day, long into the future, I could forgive you. But you will never know. It's not a courtesy you deserve.

As for Henry... I hope he does positive things in his life, despite the lie he had to grow up with. I do wish him well, but I will not be a part of his life. He can thank you for that.

Mason.

I sat back and stared at the words I typed on my screen. The arrow hung over the send button as my finger twitched on my mouse. Did I want to end it this way? To be an angry asshole? Before I could commit, my cell phone pinged with a notification. Welcoming the brief distraction, I pulled it out and smiled at the name of the recipient... Leiha.

Hey Mase! Just got off the phone with my sister... you the man! She told me all about your dinner and couldn't shut up about how amazing you are. I'm not sure where your head is at, but if (and I hope you do) you want to see her again, Sherry and I are hosting a dinner this Saturday. Will you come? No pressure... well, maybe a little ????. I hope you can make it.

XOXOX

A genuine smile made its way to my face. Dinner was pretty awesome. Greta was much like her younger sister, and we connected easily on so many levels. Whatever dark emotions I still had from reading Emma's email were already forgotten.

I'd love to! Tell me what you want me to bring. If you don't, I'll just bring something anyway!

I put my phone away and took one last look at my computer screen. Who was I kidding? My mind was already made up. "Here's to moving on..."

*CLICK*