Dana took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she clutched
the garbage can to her chest. Why did she feel guilty? Why did it feel like she
was doing something wrong when he was the one. . .
She opened her eyes and set the can down. It was because
snooping always felt wrong, even for a good reason. Because there was no
positive spin for going through some else's trash. It was his fault, making her
feel like this. So insecure. He'd promised to support her, to be here for her
and help get through all this. "We're in it together," he'd said, and
she'd foolishly believed him.
The first few clues were easy to overlook. To dismiss.
Really though, she already knew what was going on. It was time to admit it to herself.
Then she could move forward, and stop searching the garbage. She felt tears
welling up, and she took another deep breath to hold them back. She was just so
tired and hungry, but she needed to retain her composure if she was going to
confront him.
With one last deep slow breath, Dana stood up, pushed the
garbage can back under his desk with her food and left his den. She was
planning what to say to him that evening when he came home as she turned the
corner into the kitchen and stopped short. He was right there in front of her.
In the act.
A look of horror came over his face when he saw her. "I
thought you were at your mother's today," he said as he attempted to
casually wipe the frosting from his mustache and lay the cinnamon roll on the
counter behind him. Hiding it too late. She'd been right. He was cheating on
their diet.
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