Gary didn't ask another question immediately.
He just stood there.
The glass was still in his hand.
His eyes kept moving between me and my phone.
I had never seen him look quite so uncomfortable.
"Debbie?"
I didn't answer.
He put the glass down on the small table beside the door.
"What exactly did Linda say?"
I looked at him.
"Why are you worried?"
"I'm not worried."
He answered too quickly.
I knew that voice.
It was the same one he used whenever he wanted to end a conversation before it became uncomfortable.
I leaned against the doorway.
"Then there's nothing to worry about."
He looked toward the street again.
"Maybe I should just come inside."
"No."
"Debbie, this is ridiculous."
I didn't move.
He picked up one suitcase handle.
"At least let me put my things somewhere."
I looked at the suitcase.
Then at him.
"You've had four months to arrange somewhere to live."
He released the handle.
"I thought we were going to talk."
"We are talking."
"Not like this."
I didn't answer.
A few minutes later, I heard a car approaching.
I looked toward the street.
Linda's car turned into her driveway.
She stepped out first.
Then another woman climbed out beside her.
I didn't recognize her.
She looked tense.
Her eyes were fixed on the house.
A moment later, she began walking toward us.
Gary turned his head.
Then he saw her.
The change in him was immediate.
His fingers slipped from the suitcase handle.
It dropped against the porch with a heavy sound.
He stared at the woman.
"No."
It was barely more than a whisper.
I looked from him to her.
Then back again.
I didn't need anyone to explain who she was.
Linda approached first.
"Debbie, I brought someone who wanted to speak with you."
The woman stopped a few feet away.
She looked at Gary.
"Hello."
He didn't respond.
His face had gone pale.
I looked at Linda.
She gave me a small nod.
"Debbie, this is Rachel."
Rachel.
The woman Gary had been living with.
The woman whose relationship had apparently ended so badly that he had arrived at my door with his belongings.
I looked at her.
Then at him.
Rachel spoke before I could.
"Did you tell her you were divorced?"
Gary shifted his feet.
"Rachel, this isn't the time."
She shook her head.
"You don't get to decide that anymore."
I felt my stomach tighten.
I looked at Gary.
"Why is she asking me that?"
He rubbed his forehead.
"Debbie, please. This is complicated."
Rachel gave a short, bitter laugh.
"Complicated?"
She looked directly at me.
"He told me he'd been divorced for two years."
I stared at her.
For a moment, I couldn't find the words.
Then I looked at Gary.
"We're still married."
Rachel's mouth opened slightly.
She looked genuinely shocked.
"But he said his divorce had been final for years."
I shook my head.
"He left me four months ago. That's all."
Rachel turned toward him.
"You said you had been living alone."
Gary looked away.
I could see him trying to find an explanation.
He had probably prepared several versions of the same story over the previous months.
But none of them seemed useful now.
"Rachel, I told you we were separated."
She folded her arms.
"You told me you were divorced."
"That's not exactly what I said."
"Don't do that."
Her voice became firmer.
"Don't stand there and pretend I misunderstood you."
Linda remained beside her.
I was grateful she hadn't left me alone with the situation.
There were too many things happening at once.
I had expected to reject Gary's attempt to move back in.
I hadn't expected to discover that the woman he had left me for had been living inside an entirely different story.
Rachel looked at me again.
"I'm sorry. I thought he was free to be with me."
I nodded.
I wasn't ready to comfort her.
But I understood something about her position.
She had believed him.
Just as I had believed him for years.
Then Rachel said something that made me look at Gary again.
"And another thing. Your name isn't James."
I frowned.
"What?"
She pointed toward him.
"He told me his name was James."
I looked at my husband.
"James?"
He rubbed his forehead.
"It's my middle name."
Rachel laughed without any amusement.
"Of course it is."
I stared at him.
He had apparently introduced himself to another woman using his middle name.
I couldn't understand why.
Or perhaps I could.
A different name made it easier to present a different life.
Rachel continued.
"He told me his ex-wife was controlling. He said she wouldn't let him see his teenage son."
I blinked.
"Our son?"
She nodded.
"He said the boy was seventeen."
I looked at Gary.
"Our son is twenty-four."
Rachel stared at me.
"What?"
"He moved out three years ago."
She looked as though she were trying to remember every conversation they had ever had.
"Gary told me he was still in school."
I shook my head.
For a moment, I couldn't even feel angry.
I was simply trying to understand how many things he had changed.
Our son's age.
Our marriage.
His name.
The entire history of our family.
Gary finally spoke.
"You don't understand what things were like between Debbie and me."
Rachel turned toward him.
"Then explain it."
He didn't.
Instead, he looked at me.
"Debbie, you know our marriage wasn't perfect."
I nodded slowly.
"No marriage is perfect."
He seemed encouraged.
I continued.
"But that doesn't explain why you lied about our son."
He looked away.
Rachel took a breath.
"There's more."
I felt my shoulders tighten.
"What else?"
She looked at me carefully.
"He said you abandoned his mother when she became ill."
I stopped moving.
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood her.
"His mother?"
Rachel nodded.
"He told me you refused to help her when she needed treatment."
I looked at Gary.
Then back at Rachel.
"I drove his mother to chemotherapy every Thursday for six months."
Nobody spoke.
I could hear the faint sound of traffic beyond the street.
Rachel stared at him.
"Every Thursday?"
I nodded.
"Every week."
Gary looked down.
I remembered those trips.
The appointments.
The waiting.
The long drives.
The things I had done because his mother was family.
I hadn't considered them sacrifices at the time.
They were simply things that needed doing.
Now, hearing that Gary had used those same years to describe me as an uncaring wife, I felt something settle inside me.
Not surprise.
Something closer to recognition.
I had spent years defending him.
And he had spent part of his new relationship making me look like someone I wasn't.
Rachel shook her head.
"So you made her sound cruel to make yourself look better?"
Gary remained silent.
He didn't deny it.
He didn't even attempt to explain.
I looked at Rachel.
"How long were you together?"
She hesitated.
"Since March."
I waited.
"He told me he loved me on March eighth."
I felt my breath catch.
March eighth.
I knew that date.
I knew it better than almost any other date on the calendar.
It was our wedding anniversary.
For twenty-two years, that day had belonged to us.
Not every anniversary had been perfect.
Some had been simple.
Some had been forgotten until one of us mentioned it.
But I had always remembered.
This particular March eighth came back to me with painful clarity.
Gary had told me he had a work dinner.
He had said it was important.
I hadn't argued.
I had made dinner for myself and saved him a plate.
I remembered looking at the clock.
I remembered the untouched food.
I remembered telling myself that perhaps work really was keeping him busy.
Now I knew.
He hadn't been at a work dinner.
He had been telling another woman he loved her.
On our anniversary.
I looked at Rachel.
"That was our wedding anniversary."
Her face changed.
"What?"
I swallowed.
"He told me he had a work commitment that evening."
Rachel looked horrified.
"He told me he spent that night alone before coming to see me."
I turned toward Gary.
He didn't look at me.
He couldn't.
For a few seconds, I couldn't speak.
I wasn't thinking about the woman.
I wasn't even thinking about the relationship.
I was thinking about the plate I had saved for him.
The meal I had left waiting.
The ordinary evening I had spent believing my husband was simply busy.
And the man standing in front of me had known exactly what that date meant.
He had known.
That was what hurt.
Source: kaylestore.net
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: After the Anniversary Secret Came Out, He Begged Me to Forgive Him, but One Honest Answer Finally Revealed Why He Had Returned
He Arrived With His Suitcases Expecting Dinner, Never Realizing the Woman Waiting Behind That Door Was No Longer His Wife in the Same Way
Part 3 of 8
