Chapter 2: I Want A Divorce
The betrayal cut deeper than just the affair. Jessica had sat in my kitchen, crying about her struggles as a single mom. I'd listened, I'd cared, I'd made phone calls on her behalf. And this was how she repaid that kindness.
"I went to bat for you, Jessica. When the league was hesitant about hiring someone with no coaching experience, I personally vouched for your character."
"Sarah, please, you have to understand—"
"Understand what? That you're both liars?"
David stepped in front of Jessica, his shirt still unbuttoned. "Sarah, calm down. You're being way too dramatic about this."
Something inside me snapped. I shoved him hard. "Dramatic? I'm being dramatic? I caught my husband having sex with someone I helped get a job!"
David grabbed my wrist, his grip tight enough to hurt. "Don't talk about her like that."
"Let go of me!" I yanked my arm away, my nails scratching down his forearm, leaving red marks on his skin.
"So you think I was wrong?" My voice was getting louder. "When I find another woman with my husband, I should just pretend I didn't see it?"
David's expression hardened. "You're making this into something bigger than it is. It's just physical, Sarah. Men have needs."
"Needs? You have needs? What about my needs? What about our kids' needs for a father who isn't a cheating bastard?"
"I'm still the same father. I'm still the same provider. This doesn't change anything about our family."
"It changes everything! How can you not see that?"
"Look, Sarah, I'm not the struggling consultant you married anymore. I'm a partner now. I have options, and frankly, so do you."
My blood turned to ice. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you can either accept that successful men sometimes stray, or you can figure out how to support yourself and two kids on a résumé that's eight years out of date."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm being realistic. You haven't worked since Emma was born. Your last job was assistant marketing manager at a company that doesn't even exist anymore. You think you can just walk away from this life?"
"Mom? Did you find my water bottle?"
Jake's voice from outside the door made me freeze. I couldn't let Jake see this. Whatever was happening between the adults, my nine-year-old didn't need to witness his father's betrayal.
"We'll finish this at home," I hissed at David. "Both of you, stay the hell away from my son."
"Sarah, don't make this more complicated than it needs to be—"
"You already did that the moment you decided to screw her."
I grabbed Jake's water bottle from the bench and forced my face into a smile before opening the door.
"Mom, you look weird. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, sweetie. Let's go home."
"Where's Dad?"
"He's... talking to the coach about something. He'll be home later."
In the BMW, I gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles went white. My hands were shaking.
Thirteen years. Thirteen years of marriage, two kids, a beautiful home in Westport, and this is what I get. Not just an affair—but an affair with someone whose job application I personally walked into the league office.
David appeared at my car window, knocking on the glass. "Sarah, roll down the window. We need to talk about this like adults."
I rolled it down just an inch. "Adults? Adults don't have sex in soccer equipment rooms."
"Look, I know this looks bad, but you can't just drive off. We have responsibilities."
"You should have thought about responsibilities before you dropped your pants."
"I want a divorce."
"No. You don't get to make that decision alone."
"It's my life too, David."
"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, it's my career paying for your life. My name on the mortgage. My health insurance covering your doctor visits."
"You bastard."
"I'm a bastard who pays for your Lululemon habit and your kids' private school tuition. Think carefully about what you really want here, Sarah."
The worst part was, he wasn't entirely wrong. I'd given up my marketing career to be a full-time mom. My last job was eight years ago. In Westport, being a stay-at-home mom meant being financially dependent on a man who'd just humiliated me in the worst possible way.
I couldn't believe that just an hour ago, I'd been feeling sorry for him, thinking about how hard he worked.
I rolled up the window and drove away, leaving David standing in the parking lot.
But David Mitchell had forgotten something important—I wasn't just the woman who'd given up her career for his kids. I was the woman who'd helped build his career in this town. Now, it was time for me to build my own.
When I got home, Emma looked up from her homework. "Mom, why do you look like you've been crying?"
I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror—my eyes were red, but there was something else there. Something harder.
"I haven't been crying, sweetheart. I've been learning."