17: ONYX

"MJ!" I call out.

This morning, I promised her that I would be home in time for dinner, but I was late coming home again tonight.

When I first returned from Vegas, I'd promised her that I would make it home at a decent hour as often as possible.

Late nights have been the norm for the last couple of months now.

Special projects. Budget preparation. Global expansion.

Tonight, Sharla and I were the last two left, as usual. I walked her to her car as a safety precaution only. The sexual tension between us and the memories are high, and when she kissed me, I was tempted to do more. I instantly pulled back, full of regret that I'd allowed it to get out of control.

Guilt and recriminations over my thoughts have poured through my mind the entire drive. I've decided to tell Meadow the truth and beg her to go to counseling with me. I had planned to tell her from the start, but I was struggling with a lack of courage. I knew the moment that I told her she might leave me, and the last thing I want is to lose her.

The way that she's drawn a wedge between us isn't as easy for us to overcome as she might think. And my deplorable actions have severed the bond that we have, and she doesn't even know it.

I cannot continue living on the edge this way.

I barely have a wife anymore.

The moment that I step foot inside I pause, seeing the damage that's been done in the kitchen and the dining room.

My first thought is about MJ's concerns about the attacker having followed her home and knowing where she lives.

I didn't park in the garage like I normally do, so I didn't see whether her car was missing.

I know that she's not here before I even check all the rooms. The house feels empty.

"MJ!" I shout, rushing through every room on the first floor. My heart beats heavily in my chest, thundering in my ears.

I rush back to the kitchen and open the door to the garage. MJ's car is gone.

Racing back through the house, I take the steps two at a time.

"MJ! Where are you, baby?" I call out as I arrive on the second floor.

Running to our bedroom, I find the closet doors open and clothes on the floor. Stepping inside my closet to walk through to hers, I find that my suit section has been cleared out, and several other items are missing.

Did someone rob us? I move to her section of the closet and find that all her expensive ballgowns and couture clothing are still there. The only items missing are her jeans, sweats, sundresses, and dance attire.

That's odd.

I pull out my phone and dial her number, but it goes directly to voicemail. I call again with the same results.

"MJ, baby, I just got home, and I don't know what's happened. Please call me to let me know that you're okay," I say into her voicemail as my voice shakes with fear.

My next call is about to be nine-one-one until I see an envelope lying on the bed with my name scribbled on it in large, looping letters.

MJ's handwriting.

My heart thunders in my chest as I wonder if I even want to read it. I stuff my phone away because now I know that she hasn't been hurt. Or at least not by her previous assailant.

The only attacker in this scenario is me.

I know that she's left me, and that realization snatches the breath from me. Pain jabs into my chest like a jagged piece of glass, tearing at the flesh and leaving chunks of unrecognizable, ripped flesh in its place.

I drop down on the bed and undo the laces of my Oxfords before I remove my cufflinks and set them on the nightstand beside me, prolonging the moment of confirmation. When I've finished that, I remove my shirt and then finally pick up the envelope.

Her handwriting is beautiful and loopy.

I pull the envelope to my nose and inhale. I catch the faint fragrance of her perfume before I pull it away and slide a thumbnail underneath it.

Onyx,

I don't know what we're doing anymore. I hate what we've become. As much as I love you, I don't love what we're doing to one another. Pushing you away was the only way that I could protect your heart because I'm not completely myself anymore.

I know this, but I also know that I don't want anyone fiddling around in my head trying to help me sort things out. I've never trusted doctors, and you know this, so I'm not about to change now.

I saw how hard you were trying to be here for me. But you were right. What you had to give wasn't enough. It's no accident that I pushed you away.

I couldn't love you the way that you deserve to be loved. The anxiety and depression pulled me under so deep that I don't have it in me to care anymore.

I'm tired of being afraid of every damn thing, and I'm tired of not feeling desirable enough for you.

What's worse is that I hate that you don't want a child yet, and you don't have the courage to tell me that. You know that's all that I wanted, and yet, you wouldn't push for it the way that I did.

I'm hurting, and I have nothing to offer you or anyone else right now. Which is why you need to be free.

I think that you love your freedom too much which is why I wonder why you asked me to marry you. Part of me feels like I was a challenge for you because I wouldn't have sex with you.

It's not so hard to stop flirting with women and desiring them if you truly love me. I represent a loss of freedom for you, and having children would only intensify that feeling for you.

I get it.

But I need what I need, too, Onyx. I just don't see how we can both have what we want.

I'm also going to say what my heart already knows.

I don't think that one woman could ever be enough for you. You crave the attention and the adoration from women, and that never bothered me. I know that I teased you, but it really didn't. Not until now.

You've changed, Onyx, and not for the better. Since Sharla came around, things between us have grown worse than they already were.

I saw how she looked at you, and I know that your late nights are because of her.

I'm nobody's fool, O. I know that I'm not the only one. I saw the text messages between the two of you.

My inaction on our marriage and your dissatisfaction has driven you to seek comfort outside of our vows. I read those messages between you and Sharla.

That explains why you were so indifferent when you returned and when I proposed that I would work on the marriage with you. You had already crossed the line and couldn't turn back.

So much pain and anger flared inside of me when I read that. It hurt me so badly.

I need time to heal. Maybe one day I can forgive you, but not now.

You were the only man I've ever loved and all I ever wanted.

I need time and space to figure some things out. Don't look for me. I'll come to you when I'm ready.

MJ

My hands tremble as I stare at the letter. I blow out a breath of frustration. The tears flow freely down my face, and I don't stop them. Instead, I bawl like a baby.

I've been so fucking foolish. I just lost the best thing that's ever happened to me.

***

I glance up when I hear a knock at my office door. Sharla's standing there with a folder and two cups of coffee in a tray. The clock on my computer shows that it's a few minutes after five.

Meadow has been gone for two weeks, and my life is on hold.

"Come in," I say.

She steps inside a few steps before I say, "Would you close the door, please?"

"Do you think that's a good idea? I mean..."

"You're right. Come in and push the door slightly closed," I instruct her.

This time, Sharla does as I ask before joining me on the couch beside the large picture window overlooking downtown Charleston.

"These are the specs that you asked for from Janice. She didn't have a chance to pull them all together before leaving for vacation, but I gathered them and reviewed them twice."

"Thanks," I say, taking the folder from her hand.

Our fingertips brush, and I jerk my hand back as if scalded.

"Sorry," she mutters.

"You're fine. I'm just unfocused."

"You have been for the last week. Is everything okay?"

I've been avoiding Sharla; not asking her to be in on meetings and always finding something to do when she needs to speak with me.

"Um, yes," I lie.

With a long fingernail, she points at the folder.

"Do you care to review that so that we can discuss a different set of numbers? The current ones don't work well for the project guidelines."

"Yeah, let's," I say, thankful for the change of subject.

We order dinner to be served to us by the time seven rolls around because it's clearly going to be a long night. We both remain focused on the work that lies ahead of us but lose track of time and before I know it, the clock shows that it's a little after ten at night.

"Don't you need to get home to your wife?"

"No."

"No? Just no?"

"She left me, Sharla," I explain.

"What?"

"Two weeks ago today."

Nodding, she says, "That's what's been going on with you. I'm so sorry. She didn't take the news about us too well, I'm guessing?"

Nodding, I reply, "I never had a chance to tell her. She saw our text messages."

"Oh, my God, Onyx. I'm so sorry," she says, hanging her head.

"So much for what happens in Vegas staying in Vegas."

"I never should have texted you."

"I never should have cheated on my wife."

She nods.

"Are you going to try to work things out with her?"

"I want to. I don't know if she's open to it, though. At least not right now. She won't even take my phone calls. I regret that I hurt her."

"You still love her."

It's a pronouncement and not a question. I look at Sharla for the first time and realize that, somehow, I mislead her.

"Of course I do. I never meant to make you think that I didn't."

"I don't...I um..." she chews her bottom lip and frowns. "I guess I thought that you had fallen out of love with her. That maybe you were staying with her out of obligation."

"No. Never that. I love my wife, but we just weren't in a good place. And I'm sorry that I dragged you into that."

She reaches out and touches my hand. "You didn't drag me into anything, Nyx. I willingly insinuated myself into your life in a way that I had no right to."

I pull my hand from hers and drag it down my face.

"I wish that I could turn back the hands of time. I don't know what to do anymore."

Sharla says, "Maybe counseling might work."

"It would if I could talk to her. I have no idea where she's at, if she's safe, or how badly she's hurting over this. She told me not to call her."

"Oh, my God. I know you're hurting."

I look up and see the sincerity expressed in Sharla's eyes.