Prologue

September 7, 2009

"Why did you go to her?"

As I look up and into those familiar green eyes, the depth of hurt that immediately greets me is enough to knock me off of my feet. I'm not ready for this conversation, and I know we aren't. Not by a long shot. We stand on opposite sides of the custom kitchen island in our dream home, having a discussion that has the power to make or break this marriage.

"Peter, answer me."

"At that time, I let people get into my head. I guess...I began to feed into the power."

She stares at me. Hergazeis focused and unyielding. I can tell she isn't satisfied with my answer but I am not going to elaborate more on this unless probed.

"So, it was your ego trip that allowed you to have sex with me, then go out and do the same with a prostitute?!"

"No, I never said that."

"But you did it! Didn't you?!"

There are tears in her eyes now and it breaks my heart. I take a tentative step forward.

"No. I never had sex with both of you consecutively."

My response almost knocks the wind from her body, I can tell. She grips the edge of the counter and breathes in and out deeply, trying her best to keep it together.

"So why, Peter? Why did you cheat?"A lone tear trickles down her cheek as her bottom lip quivers and hands continuously grasp the edge of the dark granite for support. "Was I not enough for you?"

My head drops in defeat. I can't be the sledgehammer that breaks what's left of my wife's heart.

"Alicia…"

"Answer me!"

I feelwhat can only be described as worse than shit. How can we go down this path with fresh wounds still bleeding?

"I began working later hours. When I came home, you were already sleeping. Many times I reached out for you and you weren't in the mood. That continued on for months. I guess...it got to me."

She scoffs. "It got to you?"

Takingabrave breath, I inch forward a little more. "Look, let's not go there again, alright?"

She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her shirt, her bloodshot eyes looking around the room, at anything but me. I know she hates me, hates that I'm breathing the same air as her right now.

"Tell me one thing."

Tears are rolling down her cheeks now. Once again, I'm the one making her cry. Not the twenty-four hour news channels that have analyzed her image to the core or the voicemail she received every time she tried to phone her mother for solace. No. It's me. Again. The man who vowed to her nothing but happiness. If her father was alive today,I'm sureIwouldn't be standing here.

"Okay."

"Did you ever not use a condom?"

A heavy pause fills the room as her eyes penetrate my soul. God, I hate seeing my wife like this. She lifts a fisted hand to cover her mouth, fighting to keep herself from losing it completely as if how I respond next will be the death of her.

"No," I finally answer. "I used one every time."

She slowly lowers her balled hand from her mouth and folds her arms across her chest. Her soft sniffles fill the room and echo off the quiet walls.

"Was there anyone else?"

Memories flash through my mind of the young and exotic beauty of a private investigator I hired two years ago. Our working late one night, led to having a couple tequila shots, which eventually led to her head between my thighs and then me taking her on my desk.

"No."

Her eyes meet mine, seeming to sense the whiff of my lie. I can't tell her this. I won't destroy what's left of her. The press is doing enough of that.

"There wasn't anyone else, Alicia."