Pushing Blame
1467 Words
Dominic
The drive back to the city feels like returning from another world.
I’ve been gone one night. Thirty-six hours. But sitting in traffic with my hands tight on the steering wheel, I feel like I’m leaving something essential behind. Something I didn’t know I needed until Seraphina looked at me in the moonlight and made me believe, for just a moment, that I could be someone other than who I am.
The house appears too soon, solid and real and full of obligations I don’t want to face.
Elena’s car is in the driveway. Of course it is. Where else would she be?
I sit in the car for a moment, gathering myself, building the walls back up. The man who spent last night making love to his wife’s sister in a lake needs to disappear. In his place: the concerned husband, the busy executive, the man with perfectly reasonable explanations for everything.
The transformation is easier than it should be.
I walk into the house and it smells Inside like Elena’s tea and something baking.
“Dominic?” Her voice comes from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
“Yeah.” I drop my keys on the hall table and force my shoulders to relax. “I’m home.”
She appears in the doorway. “I didn’t expect you back so early,” she says. “I thought you had meetings all day.”
Shit. What did I tell her? My mind scrambles through the lies I’ve been spinning. “Finished earlier than expected. Thought I’d come home, check on you.”
“That’s sweet.” She moves toward me, and I force myself not to step back. When she reaches up to kiss my cheek, I smell her shampoo—something floral and medicinal at the same time.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, because that’s what I’m supposed to ask.
“Tired. The new medication makes me drowsy.” She takes my hand, and her fingers are cold. They’re always cold now. “I’ve barely seen you this week. It feels like you’re never home anymore.”
Here it comes—the guilt trip wrapped in concern.
“Work has been insane,” I say, pulling away gently to grab a glass of water. “You know how it is with Adrian buying in. Everything’s more complicated now.”
“I know. I just miss you.” She follows me into the kitchen. “We used to have dinner together every night. Now I’m lucky if I see you for breakfast.”
“That’s not fair, Elena. I’ve been dealing with a crisis at the company. The Crawford loss, the board breathing down my neck—”
“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty,” she says quickly. “I’m just saying I miss my husband. Is that so wrong?”
Yes, I want to say. Yes, it’s wrong because I’m not that person anymore. Because the man you married doesn’t exist. Because I spent last night inside your sister's and all I can think about is getting back to her.
“I’m doing the best I can,” I say instead.
“Are you?” There’s something different in her voice. That strength I noticed before. “Because from where I’m sitting, it feels like you’re avoiding me.”
“Not again, Elena… we can’t keep doing this every day. It’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” She crosses her arms. “You leave early. Come home late. Sleep in the guest room half the time.”
“Because I don’t want to wake you with my schedule.”
“Or maybe you just don’t want to be near me.” The words are quiet but they land hard. “I’m not stupid, Dominic. I see the way you look at me now. Like I’m already a ghost.”
My jaw tightens. “You want to do this again? Right now?”
“When else would we do it? You’re never here.”
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” The defensiveness in my voice is automatic. Necessary. “I came home in the middle of the day to check on you, and this is what I get? Accusations about not being present enough?”
“I’m not accusing.”
“It sure sounds like accusations.” I set the glass down harder than necessary. “I’m working myself to death trying to save the company that pays for your treatments, for this house, for everything. And somehow I’m the bad guy for not being home enough?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying, Elena? Because I’m doing everything I can to hold this together, and it’s never enough for you.”
She flinches, and part of me, a very small part feels bad. But I’m in too deep now, the words flowing with practiced ease.
“I have given up everything for you,” I continue, knowing I should stop, unable to. “My time, my money, my entire f*****g life has revolved around your illness. And you want to complain that I’m not home enough for dinner?”
“Dominic, please.”
“Do you have any idea what it’s like? The pressure I’m under? Adrian circling, clients leaving, and you at home needing more and more and more.”
“I never asked for any of this!” Her voice rises, matching mine. “I didn’t ask to get sick. I didn’t ask you to sacrifice anything. If I’m such a burden, maybe you should just—”
“Maybe I should what?” The question comes out cold. “Say it, Elena. Finish the sentence.”
But she doesn’t. Just stands there with tears streaming down her face, looking small and broken.
The silence stretches between us, ugly and raw.
“I need to go back out,” I say finally. “Adrian called. There’s a situation that needs handling.”
“Of course there is.” Her voice is bitter. “There’s always something.”
“It’s my job, Elena. It’s how I pay for—”
“For my treatments. I know. You’ve made that very clear.” She wipes her eyes. “When will you be back?”
“Late. Don’t wait up.” I’m already moving toward the door, needing to escape before this gets worse. Before I say something I can’t take back.
“Will you at least tell me where you’re going?”
I pause, hand on my keys. The lie comes effortlessly. “Adrian wants to meet at a property upstate. Some retreat center where we can hash out a strategy without interruptions. I’ll probably stay overnight.”
“Overnight.” She says it flatly. “Of course.”
“It’s business, Elena.”
“It’s always business.” She’s not looking at me anymore. “Go. Do what you need to do.”
The dismissal in her tone should bother me. Should make me stay, fix this, be the husband she deserves.
Instead, it’s permission.
“I’ll call you later,” I say, and I’m out the door before she can respond.
The drive back to the cabin should feel wrong. I just lied to my dying wife, blamed her for my absence, and made her feel like a burden so I could run back to her sister.
I should feel like a monster.
But as the city disappears in my rearview mirror and the trees start to close in, all I feel is relief.
My phone buzzes. Seraphina: Did you tell her?
Me: On my way back to you.
Her: How long?
Me: An hour and a half. Less if traffic cooperates.
Her: Hurry. I miss you. Cunt is weeping for Daddy’s attention.
Those words that shouldn’t have the power they do.
I press harder on the accelerator. My c**k is straining from my panties. Needing to be in my baby girl’s hot and swollen wet p***y.
The cabin appears like a beacon, warm light glowing from the windows, and I see her silhouette in the doorway before I’ve even killed the engine.
She’s still wearing my shirt. Nothing else, just like I told her.
I’m out of the car and pulling her against me before I can think, kissing her like I’ve been gone days instead of hours.
“You came back,” she breathes against my mouth.
“Always.” I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist automatically. “Did you doubt it?”
“No.” Her fingers thread through my hair. “How was it? With Elena?”
“I don’t want to talk about her.” I carry her inside, kick the door shut. “Not here. Not now.”
- Writer
