It had been the longest day in the history of long days, and she felt as if she was losing everything. Somehow she had found herself head deep in the closet, sorting through all of Preston’s clothing. She couldn’t believe how dull and uninspired her reaction was, or how completely callous and uncaring he seemed. He wasn’t even present for the traditional throwing-out-of-the-cheating-scumbag’s-clothes ritual that every betrayed wife seemed to embark upon. They still hadn’t spoken since she had told him to ask Haley what she meant by the word “cheater” over an hour ago. Marissa assumed he was trying to cover his tracks and gain information on what she had really said to her – in its entirety – so that he could be more condescending by trying to manipulate her further. She wanted to laugh. He was all too predictable. It was that predictability though, and the reality that he still had not come to a defense of an explanation – any explanation – that honestly made her want to just fight with him.
