The Honeymoon

It was our honeymoon. A small town in France, just like he'd promised me. I thought this was the moment that he'd make the decision to start over. We were married so this was our chance for a clean slate. He made love to me in our suite overlooking the country side. This was supposed to be that point in our relationship when he finally commited.

Yet there she was. In that little cafe with a rose bloom pinned to the side of her hair. She was beautiful. If I didn't know better I would have thought she belonged there, speaking French and wearing designer clothes with stilettos that reached to the clouds and legs bikini models would kill for.

Suddenly I felt like a pauper who hadn't showered in a year. Why would he marry me when he had her waiting in his bed? I wanted to hate her and the audacity she had to follow us on our honeymoon. That quick jog through the country side he'd taken at the break of dawn must have had a few miles in her bed.

I glanced up at him, hoping he didn't realize that I knew who she was. He never missed a step. With his arm around me, he kept sputtering on about local history and all the fun things we would do while we were in town. I thought he would lead me away from the cafe but he was far too bold to pass the opportunity to inflate his ego.

"Have a seat Darling," he cooed, pulling a chair out for me. He conveniently seated me with my back to her. I could practically feel her rolling her eyes at me, as if the force were so strong it would decapitate her head from the rest of her body.

"Thank you," I muttered. Perhaps this was all I could hope for. After all, she would get some of his nights; I had his name. I could be seen in public with him and not have to pull my hand away from his. I knew it was terrible to allow him to get away with it but I suddenly felt smug at the thought of her wishing to be me.

Her. Perfect her. Wanting to be me. Her, a size two wanting to be me, a size ten. Her with perfect blonde coif wanting to be me, a mousy brunette. One day, I'd grow a backbone and walk away, but not today. Today, he was my husband and I wouldn't let any other thought enter my mind.

I reached across the table and enlaced my fingers through his. If he could pretend, so could I.