Carry Me To Bed

Picking up my blazer from the floor, I took a deep breath and fixed my hair while I took a look around the hotel room. The messy sheets were an indicator of what had happened just now; as was the other woman in the big suite getting dressed. Even though this certainly wasn't the first time I'd done this, the guilt was still a factor.

"I'm getting so sick of this, Shannon," I heard the other woman speak as I put on my shoes. "When are you going to tell her?"

"Soon," I answered quietly.

"You've been saying that for the past six months," Cammie replied with growing anger in her voice

"It's not that easy but I'll do it. You need to give me some time," I sighed deeply.

"I'm not going to be your fucking mistress any longer," my business partner said. "Either you tell this week, or we're done."

"Come on," I tried to soothe her and walked towards her.

"No, I'm serious this time," she responded with determination and dodged my attempt to put my arms around her waist. "I've been patient but this is not what I want, The sneaking around was a little thrilling at first, I admit, but this has gone on way too long." 

The older woman walked past me and made her way to the door.

 "You have to tell Cari," she added before leaving the room.

---

"Good evening, Mrs. Beveridge."

Just like every evening, I was greeted by our housekeeper who took my coat and smiled politely. The routine of it all was more tiring than the strenuous hours of work before. I had built a life for myself that seemed perfect on the outside. If only the glorious façade would match my state of mind.

"Thank you," I mumbled in a weak, exhausted voice. "Where is everyone?"

"They have gone to bed." I can warm you up some dinner if you like?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine. You can call it a night as well," I saw her nodding and headed upstairs.

At first, I contemplated going to see Lucas, but he was probably asleep and didn't want to wake him. So I went straight to the master bedroom. Opening the door, I saw Cari in bed with a book in her hands. Her glasses were perched on her nose, her hair in a neat ponytail and almost all of her body covered by blankets; it was the same image as always. My wife of eleven years noticed me entering and tour her eyes off her reading material.

"Hi," she greeted with a gentle smile.

"Hey," I whispered for some reason.

My stomach was in knots. The memory of my conversation with Cammie earlier had my pulse racing. I knew that I had to do it at some point. There was never going to be a good time. I stood in the middle of the room and looked at the brown-eyed woman. There was a part of me who still loved her and didn't want to hurt the woman who had been by my side through it all. But a different part of me said that we weren't happy anymore. I knew I wasn't.

"Shannon, what's wrong?" Cari asked worriedly and out her book down.

"We need to talk," my voice was already shaking.

"Okay," she breathed calmly.

I inhaled very deeply and told myself to suck it up. Slowly approaching the bed, I sat down at the edge and nervously fumbled with the sheets. Once I had talked to Cari, there was no going back. That knowledge had been keeping me from having this conversation. But it wasn't fair to her.