Just when I think things are starting to look up, life has a funny way of tearing me back down. Or at least it likes to throw perfect curveballs that strike me out everytime. When I was younger, it was the sudden imposition of my baby sister. Though I was quite childish and spoiled then, but now our relationship is all fine and dandy. As a teenager, it was the blazing acne that I had to slather on every product under the sun to fix. Now, at my adult age, it was finding out that my wife was cheating on me. And of course, as I'm on the road to getting over her, she just has to pop up while I'm on a date.

They do say life is short and I think I might have a heart attack right now.

Slowly, I lift my eyes to meet the green ones of Lacey Whitley. Her red hair has gotten longer, but the color has faded now to more of an orangish hue and her dark roots are peeking out. With a bare face and only gloss on her lips, she looks angry as she crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes. Her gaze moves between Freya and I with deliberate speed.

Before starting, I clear my throat. "Uh" is the first thing to come out of my mouth, so I clear my throat once again. This awkwardness was not on the list of events for today. Nor was losing my appetite in the middle of finally trying new foods on the list either.

"What are you doing here?" Lacey repeats, rolling her eyes.

Unlike before, Lacey rolling her eyes makes me feel irritated. If this was several months ago, I would have hugged her from behind and comforted her to dispel whatever anger or annoyance she was feeling. But now, I find the fact that she's displeased is very much misplaced.

"We're on a date," Freya answers. I gape at her, surprised that she spoke up at this moment. "What are you doing here... other than interrupting?"

Lacey sputters, at a loss for words at not charming the woman before her. Freya raises an eyebrow, her elbow on the table and her cheek in her palm as she waits. Something in my gut twists up, making me feel sick. This is a situation I don't know how to handle. So far, nothing in my life has been this hard other than finding my cheating spouse and leaving her.

"Who even are you?" Lacey asks, scoffing. Her arms are still crossed, but she's squeezing them now and looking more uncomfortable than mad.

"His date."

Before Lacey can retort, a man comes up behind her. His hands slide against her waist before wrapping around her midsection and pulling her to him until her back is touching his chest. He doesn't have the same stubble I remember from before. His hair is also different, longer and blonde rather than short and black. His build is also larger and it's obvious that he works out with the way his biceps bulge even in his jacket.

This is not the same man I caught Lacey cheating with.

"Baby, our table is ready. You went to the bathroom and never came back," he says, leaning down so that his chin rests on her shoulder. "Are these some of your acquaintances?"

Lacey grows a smile on her face, but it's one that doesn't reflect true happiness. Her lips quirk up slightly, but her eyes are still narrowed. She grabs the man's arm and relaxes against him then shakes her head.

"No, it's just someone I thought I knew. Let's go."

The man nods to us before letting Lacey tear him away and over to their ready table. They aren't too far from us, so they're still within eyesight, but I do my best to not look over at them. I'm reluctant to look at Freya, but I have to. I have to gauge her reaction to this and see if our date is ruined or if she doesn't care.

When I turn my gaze to her, she's already looking at me and she does not look amused. Despite the fear building up in me, I can't take my eyes away from hers even though I would prefer to look down at my half eaten kabob. We have a staredown for a solid minute before she sighs.

"Let's finish our food and call it a day," Freya says. She breaks our eye contact and begins eating again.

The rest of our lunch is spent in silence and Freya doesn't look at me again. When we get our check, Freya stands, grabs her bag, and exits first. Naturally, I have to wait a bit before I follow suit. The sun is bright despite the brisk chill in the air. It feels colder now, but I have a feeling that's just my mind playing tricks on me.

Freya leans against my car, reminding me of when I waited for her at the vineyard. It was all on the same day, but I wish we could go back to that happy time. I wish we could go back to before my wife showed up and ruined our date, our first proper date.

"Freya-"

"Chance, listen," she cuts me off. "I know you're still married, and honestly, no matter what you told me, I shouldn't have done this. I shouldn't have become the other woman, no matter the circumstances. I mean, you're not even in the process of divorcing her yet."

She's right, I've barely even thought of calling up a lawyer, but I feel so upset at her words. "Freya, you know that our relationship is done."

"Do I know, Chance?" she asks, meeting my gaze with hers. A fire blazes in her eyes as she stares me down hard.

There's a tension between us, which I have never felt with Freya before. Somehow... This feels worse than the betrayal of my long term partner. I can't put my finger on why. Maybe it's because my previous alone time has made me realize that Lacey wasn't the best person. Maybe it's because being with Freya has made me feel more myself than ever with Lacey before.

I don't know, but I don't want it to end.

Freya groans before rubbing her forehead. "Listen, Chance, I'm not trying to push you on what to do, or how to go about things. I don't want to overstep and I won't. But I should have never agreed to this fling... I should've never brought it up to be quite frank. Seeing your wife here just feels like a slap on the face and it makes me feel as if I don't respect myself."

"Freya, I didn't expect to see Lacey here either. But I don't think seeing her one time should put a wrench in what we have going on."

She shakes her head and huffs. "As it turns out, I don't want to be the other woman. And I don't want to be unsure of whatever we have going on. Even in college, you were so far gone in your relationship. Anyone around somehow knew how much you loved her, so no, I don't want to have even a little possibility that I'll be left in the dust. Now please unlock the car and drive me home."

For the first time, I'm seeing vulnerability that I didn't think was possible with Freya. It reminds me that I don't know much about her and she doesn't know much about me. Our relationship is superficial; it's in the early stages. What started as a casual fling has only gotten complicated because we started making it into something more without solving any ongoing issues.

Freya is right; I am still married. I loved Lacey for a long time and I do still love her. Our relationship lasted over ten years, so there's no way my feelings will just go away. Yet I've started to develop feelings for someone else now. Yes, I loved Lacey to the moon and back. Yes, she was my life for so long. Only now I'm torn after experiencing a different world.

We drive in silence. This time the radio is off and the silence isn't comfortable. There's a lot for us to think about and a lot for us to talk about still.

The freeway is packed bumper to bumper and only seems to move a couple inches every few minutes. The timing couldn't have been any better. I reach for the radio and power it on to fill the tense silence that's filling my small car. Freya has kept her gaze to her window, not looking forward and not looking at me.

"Freya, will you at least look at me?" After another thirty minutes of silence, I can't take it anymore. "I don't want the day to end like this."

"Well, neither do I, but I think we both have some thinking to do."

"What is there to think about?"

Freya scoffs before whipping her head in my direction. Her eyebrows are forward and her lips are tight. "Did you really just ask that? If you're still hesitating on what to do about your wife, you need some more thinking to do, obviously."

I remove one hand from the steering wheel to brush through my hair. "I just don't understand. This was your idea, Freya! You told me to have casual sex and you volunteered."

"And I'm also allowed to change my mind. Why is that hard to understand?"

"Because I don't get why!"

"And how many different ways do you want me to say it?" Our tones are loud now. Not quite yelling, but not calm either. "I don't want to sit here and wait for you to make a decision, dammit. I don't want to always be wondering when you'll be ready to divorce your wife or waiting for the day you'll leave me to go back to her. This situationship will never be fair to me until you make a decision."

Without thinking about it, my right hand snaps out in the form of a fist that lands on the steering wheel. Never in my life have I ever had any violent urges, nor have I ever reacted violently to a conflict. Then again, I didn't think I'd be walking the line of becoming an alcoholic either. And right now, I could really use a drink.

When I find the courage to look at Freya again, she's staring at me with a blank face. Then she scoffs and shakes her head. Just like that, I've lost this argument with my childish fit of rage. Freya closes in on herself, shutting me out in the process. That sick feeling in my stomach gets worse and I have to calm myself back from the urge to pull over in the middle of rush hour traffic and vomit the little bit of food I've just eaten.

***

My first day back at work isn't as pleasant as I'd like, especially after my fight with Freya. I wake up with a headache and nausea. That would be from the bottle of Jameson I nearly finished before finally passing out from exhaustion. I'm not proud of myself now.

Getting ready feels like a fight across the Atlantic Ocean. Every single light I turn on is blinding and only increases my headache. Each move I make is slow as I brush my teeth, wash my face, and get dressed. I'm obviously not at my best and I can imagine that everyone will be able to tell.

When I walk into the Coleman Institute of Art and History, I receive applause. Familiar faces smile over at me as I sheepishly walk the halls to my office. Greetings and back pats stall me from reaching my office. I'm stopped as some ask how my vacation was and question if it was worth using all of my PTO. I find it in me to laugh and make bland jokes.

This is the place I've worked in for around seven years now. After graduating college, it took me a while to figure out what to do with my life. For a while, I moved from job to job, trying to either get my foot in the door or figure out my right path.

When I originally chose art as my career destination, my father almost ripped me a new one. It hadn't been in his plan for me to 'throw my life away' to pursue an education and career in art. I was expected to become a doctor, - more specifically a surgeon - lawyer, or engineer. I was also expected to have the perfect marriage and have at least two kids by now with a third on the way. He even would have been happy if I started my own business just as my cousin did.

Because of this, for a while, I was lost. As I was constantly job hopping, I wondered if maybe this path was the wrong one to choose. At least that's what I thought until I found an online advertisement for the Coleman Institute of Art and History. After acquiring an interview, I learned that the position I applied for had been filled, but they were losing one of their curators to which they asked me if I would be interested in taking that job.

Without that, I never would have found out that I love the behind the scenes of setting up exhibits and filling galleries and museums with both art and the history that makes up the world.

Finally making it to my office, I slouch down in my seat and rest my head in my hands. Sighing, I pull the drawer on my desk open and yank out a bottle of ibuprofen and pop two. I pull out my phone and search for a picture that was sent to me from my cousin.

It doesn't take long for me to find a photo of the black business card with gold lettering. The words read Jason Goldman: Divorce attorney.

Taking a deep breath, I dial the number on the card.