If I had been expecting to wake up to a day of sunshine and roses after the night I had, then I would be very mistaken. Good thing I wasn't expecting that. After being rejected, I laid in bed for nearly two hours contemplating what in the world Seth could have meant by his words. He didn't want to use me? What would make him think that?

Unless...

I swallow hard, pushing the covers away from me and lazily slipping out of bed. The sun is definitely blazing today, but it seems to be avoiding my mood. I need a little sunshine in my soul and yet, it only wants to shower the grass with light. Maybe I need to spend some time outside today to erase the horrible conclusion I've just come up with.

The possibility that Seth doesn't feel right being with me when he's already with someone else. He doesn't want to use me. I'm hoping with every ounce of energy within me that I'm wrong about my assumptions, but what else could it possibly be? He's not making any sense these days. He's pushing me away during waking hours and kissing my fingers and caressing my skin when he thinks I'm asleep. It's like he wants me, but he respects me too much to fool around with me when he's fooling around on me. That Tracy is one lucky woman to have all his devotion focused on her. He can't even cheat on his mistress with his own wife.

I hate him.

I love him so much that I hate him. Right now, I'm disgusted and hurt and angry and tired. So tired.

I grab whatever clothing off the floor that I can find and throw it on. It doesn't match at all—a pair of purple and yellow polka dot sweatpants and a floral top—but I don't care. I saunter out of my room, my hair a wadded mess drooping around my shoulders. I angrily throw it up into the world's most ludicrous bun and trudge my way into the kitchen.

Seth is already gone, so the only person I have to worry about this morning is myself. I'm debating taking the morning off and pampering myself, but the guilt that surges forward with the idea has me shutting down that thought immediately. Though, at this very moment, I'm not too concerned about Seth's birthday weekend—because in truth, I'm mad at him—I still don't have the ability to back out. I've spent too much time and money on making it happen and Seth's repulsive unfaithfulness will not hinder my plans.

Heck, call me stupid, but even if he is cheating, I'm planning to win. I don't care what other people think. When you love something, you fight for it. I could either gain his love back, or I could lose it and live a miserable life.

Now, don't get me wrong, I plan on telling him how I feel very soon. I'm not going to let him get away with his behavior. I'm not one to just sit back and turn a blind eye. When the time is right, I will present him with his options and he'll have to choose. If he chooses her, then I guess I'll just have to start planning some very sweet revenge. But, until then, I'm going to love him with every ounce of my being. Until then, I'm going to treat him as the innocent man that I hope he is. But, if I find out he's been seeing someone else behind my back, I will promise him that he will regret it.

I know it's bad. Revenge is bad. But, there's something horribly ugly inside of me that just can't let it go. I have to give people what they deserve. I'm working on it. I've tried to overcome it. I really have, but it's something I struggle with. One of these days I'll be a better person. Or, at least, that's what I keep promising myself. I guess we'll see.

As usual, my day is spent in my workshop. The freshly glued tabletop is now dry and I'm able to start piecing everything together. I'm hoping to get all the legs put on before lunch, but we'll see how that goes. I've told Steve that he can come over today. He's been texting me constantly, wanting to know when I can come in and discuss my next project. I finally had to explain that the only way we'd get a chance to talk is if he came over and rambled away while I worked.

So, that's why when I hear his voice calling my name from outside my shop door, I'm not surprised. He carefully peers inside before smiling at me and stepping through the doorway.

"Things are looking good," he says, appraising the four tables sitting in the far corner of the room all fresh and shiny.

"Thanks," I respond, leaning back over to resume my work. "Should be done with this one in the next couple of days. I'll let Adam know he can pick them up on Friday."

"Good. Good." Steve nods in approval, his eyes watching my movements with fascination.

The room goes quiet for a while, but I don't necessarily care. Steve can wait because getting this desk done is my priority right now. Ten minutes pass, and he continues to sit and watch with surprising patience. It's not until I sit back on my heels to get a better look at today's accomplishments, that he speaks up.

"Okay," he says, standing from where he's been comfortably seated for the last few minutes. He makes his way toward me, a piece of paper rolled up in his hand. "Here's your next task." He unrolls the sheet and uses his palms to flatten it on the desk I've been working on.

I set down my tools, pushing my eyewear to the top of my head as I bend to get a better view of the picture.

"Well," I say, placing one hand on my hip and straightening up once I've taken a good look at my newest project. "That'll be new for me."

"I figured that'd be the case," he answers, letting go of the document. I watch the ends curl up into themselves, but my mind is working out ways to make this person's request a reality. "You think you'll be able to do it?"

"Of course," I tell him. "It'll basically be like making a typical table. I can't imagine a pingpong table being all that different. The alternating shades of wood used in the legs could be challenging, but not impossible. I'll just have to mess around with some ideas before I can get started."

He nods.

"What's the deadline?"

He cringes before answering. "Two weeks?"

I groan. "You said I'd be able to finish this one in a weekend. You lied." He just shrugs and I huff out a breath as I roll my head on my shoulders. "Is this a set deadline, or is it flexible?"

"Set," Steve says. "It's for the client's son. His birthday is in two weeks and this is what they're getting him."

"Great." I run my hands over the top of my head, pushing flyaway hairs back and spreading sweat into the strands with the movement.

"I'll leave this with you," he says, pointing at the sheet of paper with the pingpong table measurements scribbled onto it. "The client's numbers are at the bottom. I'll leave it up to you to get things moving on this."

"Alrighty," I say, snatching the page off the table and folding it into a small square before slipping it into my pocket. "Anything else?"

Steve just quirks his lips to a side smile and shakes his head. "Nope. That's all." His hand reaches out and skims my wrist, making my skin crawl. "Good work. I'll check in in a few days."

"Of course." I smile, not surprised by his need to keep an eye on my progress. He's been somewhat of a nuisance lately, always popping in and taking up my time. I used to not mind so much, but it seems the stress of my home life is getting to me and I'm not quite as patient as I once was.

Steve exits after a quick goodbye, and I barely spare him a glance before I'm hunched over the table again, eager to finish the tasks that I've assigned myself today. Again, it's another late night for me, and I'm shocked to find Seth sitting in front of the TV when I slip back into the house late that evening. His schedule has been inconsistent lately, so I'm a bit surprised to see him home already. By normal work standards, eight is still late, but with Seth coming home well past ten most evenings, this is a big deal.

"No client meetings tonight?" I question, startling him from his show. Apparently, he didn't hear me come in. He twists around to glance at me over the top of the couch.

"Nope," he says, a smile lifting the left side of his mouth. "I finally got the night off."

He sounds genuinely relieved, which is surprising. I'd been using his term and calling them 'client dinners' when in my head I was imagining candlelit fancy restaurants and dreamy chitchat with a long-legged brunette. But his response doesn't match that accusation. If anything, he sounds like a man who's actually relieved to not have to be at work late again.

"Hungry?" he offers, and I nod wearily. "I made some bacon and eggs."

And I'm in love all over again.

"For me?"

He laughs, but he almost looks a bit insecure. Like he's proud of himself and embarrassed by my obvious appreciation all at the same time.

"I'll go get it for you," he tells me, pushing himself off the couch. "You just sit."

It's so odd, because right now, with his actions, it almost feels like we're back to normal. He's treating me with kindness and he's smiling with sincerity. If I didn't know any better, I'd wonder if he was trying to make up for last night. Well, let me tell you something, buddy... it ain't gonna be that easy.

But, then again, aren't I the one pushing for things to be good between us again? If he's suddenly wanting that same thing, then shouldn't I encourage it. Again, that evil side of me wants to teach him a lesson. I want to make him realize that what he did was cruel and I want him to regret it and hurt for it. But, I've realized something over the past few years of my life...

A marriage can't survive on revenge.

So, pushing down my wounded emotions and my hungry need for retaliation, I do as he asks and take a seat. And this is how things go between us for the next few days. We're pleasant toward each other. We're kind. We're trying, but we're not relaxed. Everything feels forced, and I know why...

It's because we haven't really talked yet. We haven't gotten anything out. We just skirt around the issues and anytime I feel as though Seth wants to deepen our conversations, I find some kind of excuse to get out of it. I'm even annoyed with myself for my actions, but I can't help it.

I'm scared.

I'm not ready to see those divorce papers again. I'm not ready to hear his reasons for having them. I'm not ready to give up on what we have. I'm not ready to listen to him confess his love for another woman. I'm just not ready.

So, when he turns to me, a look of contemplation on his face, I find any reason to escape. Lately, it's been my phone. I'll make an excuse to call someone, or finally answer a text that I received from Steve several hours earlier. Sometimes I'll just yawn and tell him I'm too tired to talk, and then I'll hide away in my room as shame eats away at my soul. I was never like this before. But, then again, I've never been faced with such a huge threat before. The idea of losing something that I cherish more than oxygen has me running as far and as fast from the problem as possible.

I'm not going to be able to hide forever though. That's just life. And as fate would have it, it seems I'll be facing that very fear just days from now... when Seth and I are forced to endure a romantic weekend... alone.