I pull my truck in the driveway and find a strange car there. Right away, I just knew. Don't know why, but I did. I'm hoping and praying I'm wrong, but my gut is telling me I'm not.
I sit there a while wondering what to do: leave and talk to her later, leave and pretend I didn't see it? Not sure what to do. I'm shaking so bad I can't see straight.
When I have something at work I have to do that might be uncomfortable, I always tell myself: "Man up, get this over with." Suddenly, the shaking stops and I feel very calm. No idea how, because inside I'm a wreck.
I sneak in the back door, and my black Lab is laying there with a sad face like he knows, instead of jumping on me. Man, I love that dog. He stays as I quietly go up the stairs.
When I get upstairs, I can hear what is going on in our bedroom. I get to the door and open it, and see her boss on top of my wife. I stand there for a second and yell out, "Surprise!"
The crap show that followed would be laughable if it didn't hurt so much. He rolls off trying to get out of bed, but he gets tangled up in the sheets. My wife is screaming, "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" and trying to cover up, but can't because he's still tangled up.
He finally gets out and starts looking for his clothes, only they're on the other side of the bed. This just hit me—in about the same spot where mine used to end up. Don't know why, but I beat him to them and grab them.
My wife is crying, "I'm so sorry," over and over.
I back up to the door and stand there, and he's standing next to the bed naked. I grab the big easy chair out of the corner, pull it to the door, and sit down. He asks for his clothes, and I say no, and toss him my wife's robe from the back of the door.
He starts to walk towards me. Now, even though I'm 51, I'm in good shape: 6 foot 3, 240. Years of going to the gym and working in landscaping have seen to that.