likes attention. If I’m honest, Charlotte makes me feel good about myself. She looks up to me, like I can do stuff.”
“And Melanie doesn’t?” Dr. Marler asked.
Kit turned to look at her. “Mel, you know I love you. I mean, you and I have been through a lot, but you’re hard to . . .” He sighed.
“To love?” she finished for him, her heart feeling like it was breaking into a bajillion pieces. Was that what had always been wrong with her? She was hard to love?
“No,” Kit said, reaching over and patting her knee. “You’re easy to love. But you’re hard to feel competent around. You don’t need me, and you don’t seem to have time for me. It makes me feel . . . useless. And, yeah, Charlotte makes me feel brilliant, funny, and still attractive. She comments on my shirts, my stories, and my Twitter feed. She’s interested in me as a person.”
Melanie opened her mouth and then closed it. She wanted to say that she was interested in him, too, but she knew she hadn’t been interested in him in a while. Not really. Oh, she loved him. Still enjoyed conversations with him upon occasion. They shared a bed, the shampoo, and two children, but sometimes he felt more like a roommate than her husband. And the worst thing was she wasn’t dissatisfied with the way things were. “I’m sorry if I make you feel that way.”
“I’m not asking for an apology, and I know you don’t mean to ignore me. I suppose that after a while, when your wife’s not excited to see you or interested in sex anymore, you just start . . . I don’t know. I’m not sure what I’m even trying to say. I guess what I’m saying is that if Melanie was more into me, I wouldn’t be tempted.”
He made it sound like it was all her fault. How was his wanting to screw Charlotte her fault? What kind of man convinced himself it was normal to “think” about cheating on his vows merely because his wife didn’t fawn over him 24-7? “Okay, yes, I have been struggling with some issues, and it’s made me not so . . . attentive. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you or want you. I mean, sorry your ego is that fragile, but my sister is ill, our daughter is getting married, I’m overcommitted, and maybe I’m going through the start of menopause or something. I have zero energy, and I don’t feel like myself. So, yeah, I’m having trouble wanting to do you every night. You act like that’s the only thing you’re interested in doing with me anyway. Do I have to fuck you every night just so you know I love you?”
Yeah, she said that word. And she didn’t care that she had. They were being honest. That was what the therapist demanded, and so she was peeling away the polite veneer, the good-girl persona she’d been taught to use in all situations. Because that felt honest.
Kit’s eyes grew big, and then his mouth flatlined. “Come on, Mel. This isn’t about sex.”
“Isn’t it? Because that’s probably what Charlotte’s offering. That and what comes next. Let me fill you in on how this works, Kit. Charlotte is younger and probably doesn’t have much in her 401(k). And you’re older and have a lot in your bank account, retirement, et cetera, et cetera. Charlotte’s not stupid. She knows what you’re worth, and she knows her best years are slowly slipping away. Tick, tick, tick. She doesn’t want to drive a Toyota. She wants a Mercedes, designer clothes, and vacations in Fiji, but she can’t do that on her part-time assistant salary. But she can do that as the next Mrs. Christopher Layton, so she laughs at all your jokes, embraces the opportunity to touch you, and makes you feel like you’re the greatest man alive because that’s what her hormones and bank account are telling her to do. Because if she really wanted to do it all herself, she would have utilized that fancy business degree and stayed in Boston,” Melanie said, standing up and striding toward the window that overlooked downtown Shreveport. The therapist’s office was close to Kit’s because that was what was convenient for him. He didn’t care Melanie had to drive all the way downtown for the appointment because she didn’t work.