Chapter 20

THEN:

Angela's fingers trailed along Will's arm, her touch light but insistent. She nestled closer, her breath warm against his neck. Once, twice, she pressed her lips to his skin, a silent plea.

Will's response was a quiet, "Not tonight, Angie."

"Come on, Will," Angela's voice held an edge, a whine that grated more with each syllable. She shifted, the sheets whispering with her movement, her knee nudging his leg. He turned away, a wall of flesh between them.

"Seriously?" Her tone spiked, disbelief and something else—resentment—coloring it ugly.

"Angie, please." His words were a tired exhale, his body tense beside her in the same bed where they had once made two beautiful children but hadn't made love since.

"You don't want me?" The question was a sharp blade, pointed and accusatory.

"Angela, stop." Will's refusal was firmer now, his patience fraying at the edges.

Her hand snapped back as if bitten. Eyes narrowing, she propped herself up on an elbow, the softness in her face giving way to hard lines.

"Is there someone else, Will?"

"Oh, my God. Are we back to that again? Of course not." His answer came too quickly, defensive.

"Then why?" she demanded, her voice climbing, the question like a gunshot in the quiet room. "Why won't you be with me?"

"Angie, I'm just not…."

Will's voice trailed off, his struggle palpable in the dim light.

"Not what? Interested? Aroused?" Angela's mocking tone sliced through the air, her jealousy a living thing between them.

"Stop it." Will's protest was weak, his resistance crumbling.

"Or maybe," Angela continuedrelentlessly, "you're getting it elsewhere."

"Angela, that's enough!" Will's outburst filled the room, a brief flare of anger in the growing storm.

Will bolted upright, the mattress recoiling from his sudden movement. He swung his legs out of bed, standing in one fluid motion.

"I'm not in the mood, Angela," he snapped, a growl underpinning his words. "That's all it is. Don't make it into something it's not."

"You're never in the mood!" Angela shot back, sitting up, her hair a disheveled halo around her head. "What is it then? You find me repulsive?"

"Christ, no," he said, pacing at the foot of the bed, his hands raking through his hair. "I've told you about the meds—the pills I've been taking and how they screw with everything."

"Medication." She spat the word as if it tasted foul on her tongue. "That's your excuse? Convenient."

"Excuse?" Will stopped pacing and faced her. "It's not an excuse—it's the damn truth!"

"Or maybe," she pressed, her voice dripping with venom, "it's just a cover for all your little escapades." Her eyes were cold and piercing.

"Escapades?" He echoed the accusation with disbelief. "You think I have the energy for that?"

"Energy or not," she hurled back, "you're lying to me. There's someone else, isn't there? I can tell."

"Angela," Will pleaded, his voice strained, "You know my situation. Why would I lie about this?"

"Because you're a man, Will!" she hissed, her blue eyes flashing dangerously. "And I've seen how women look at you—the way they linger. I'm not blind. Especially that bitch next door."

"Your jealousy…." Will's voice trailed off, his anger subsiding into resignation. "It's blinding you."

Will's shadow loomed against the soft glow of the bedside lamp, his silhouette jagged with tension.

"You want the truth?" His voice cut through the silence, sharp and raw.

"Of course I do!" Angela's reply was a whip-crack in the stillness, her figure stiff as she clutched the sheets to her chest.

"Fine." Will's breath came out in a harsh exhale. "I can't perform, okay? I can't get it up." The words tumbled from him like boulders, heavy with shame. "Because of the pills I've been taking."

Angela froze, her hands gripping the fabric so tight her knuckles turned white. Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

"Happy now?" Will's face twisted in a grimace, his vulnerability laid bare beneath the scrutiny of her gaze.

Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. She could only stare, taking in the confession that hung in the air, palpable and shattering. It didn't last long. Angela's skepticism was a blade, her disbelief a sharp edge against Will's exposed truth.

"You really expect me to believe that?" Her voice was ice, her posture rigid against the headboard.

"Angela—"

"Save it, Will." The mockery seeped from her words, thick and venomous. "I've heard enough of your excuses."

"Excuses?" His eyes darkened, the hurt evident. "You think I'm lying about this?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," she spat.

The room seemed to shrink with the intensity of her accusation, walls closing in on him, trapping him.

"Damn it, Angela!" His fist hit the mattress, frustration booming. "Why can't you just trust me?"

"Trust?" She laughed, a sound devoid of humor. "That's rich, coming from you."

"Stop it!" His voice rose, the plea dissolving into anger.

"Make me!" She challenged, her eyes sparking fire.

"Is that what you want?" He threw his hands up, the gesture one of defeat. "To push me until I break?"

"Maybe I do." Her tone was lethal, each word a calculated strike. "Maybe then you'll stop lying through your teeth."

"God, you're impossible!" Will shot back, the last of his restraint snapping.

"Right, because I'm the problem here." She sneered, leaning forward, her face twisted with scorn. "Not the impotent husband who can't satisfy his wife because he sleeps around."

"Enough, Angela!" He moved away, the space between them charged with unspoken wounds.

"Where are you going?" Her challenge followed him as he paced the room, a caged animal seeking escape.

"Anywhere but here," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"Run away, then!" She taunted. "Like you always do!"

"Running is better than this insanity." His retort was a low growl, the sound of a cornered man.

"Admit it. You're cheating." Her accusation was a dagger aimed at his heart.

"Believe what you want." His shoulders slumped, surrendering to the impossibility of reason.

"Believing lies is your specialty, not mine." Her words were final, sealing the chasm between them.

Angela's hand shot out, seizing the glass vase from the nightstand with manic energy. It hurtled through the air, missing Will by mere inches as it shattered against the wall. Fragments cascaded down like glittering rain.

"Damn it, Angela!" Will sidestepped another incoming missile—a book this time—its pages fluttering helplessly to the floor.

"Look at you," she spat, her voice seething with contempt as she grabbed the next available object, a framed photograph. "So pathetic, pretending it's the drugs."

"Angela, stop!" He lunged, trying to intercept her flailing arms.

"Stop?" She laughed, a hollow sound devoid of any true humor. "Why? Because you can't handle the truth?"

"This isn't you." His plea was earnest, eyes searching for the woman he knew beneath the fury.

"Isn't me?" She threw the picture, the glass cracking on impact. "Or is it just not the docile wife you want me to be?"

"Please." He caught her wrist mid-swing, halting another throw. "I'm telling you the truth."

"Truth?" Her lip curled. "Your truth is a lie!"

"Angela." He held her gaze, his own filled with pain. "The drugs—they've killed my desire. I'm not cheating on you."

"Lies!" She writhed against his grip, but he held fast.

"Believe me." His voice cracked, the rawness betraying his inner turmoil.

"Believe a cheater?" She wrenched free, panting, her energy finally waning.

"Angela…." His shoulders drooped, a silent plea for understanding etched in his posture.

"Sleep wherever you want, with whoever you want," she hissed, the fight draining from her as quickly as it had erupted. "Just not with me."

He watched, heart leaden, as she stormed out of the bedroom, the door slamming shut with a finality that echoed through the hollow silence.

Angela collapsed onto the couch, her chest heaving. The fabric scratched at her skin, a reminder of the chasm that now lay between them. In the stillness of the living room, the tension hung heavy, a tangible thing that wrapped around her like a shroud. She had many questions and a lot of insecurities, but one thing was for certain.

She was no fool.