He hadn't slept. The bags, the darkness circling his eyes gave it away the moment I opened the door. A part of me wanted to hug my husband, take him straight to bed and lay with him the rest of the day in hopes of erasing the damage of the previous night. Then, he opened his mouth.

"How long is this going to take."

"Are you coming in or not?"

"Am I welcome in my own house?"

"About as much as I've been disrespected in it which means you're pretty damn welcome."

I left him standing there. The way my patience worked, he was lucky I loved him too much to slam the door in his face. After tossing broken glass onto the coffee table, then flopping onto the couch, I noticed him creeping into the family room as though he hadn't lived there for twelve years. Who was taking things too far now?

"Do you want to talk or be dramatic Zy because I'm not in the mood for any more theatrics."

"We said we would never kick one another out of our home, remember that?"

"We also said we'd never fuck other people, but you've clearly forgotten that."

"I'm only looking out for you."

"By pimping me out?"

"It's not like that, and you know it."

"Zy, I honestly don't even know what it is."

When he finally took a seat, he propped his forearms atop his thighs as he leaned towards me from across the room and announced with conviction, "It  is me trying to make you happy."

"But I already am, so I'm even more confused."

The angst on my husband's face forced my disgruntled spirit to settle down and silently pray for the ability to listen in hopes of understanding where the sudden change in him came from.

"Look, Candi, I know you love me and for the most part, I do believe you're happy. But being happy for the most part  isn't being a hundred percent content within our relationship."

"And what gives you the right to speak for me?"

"I'm not. I'm just wise enough to notice the signs."

As I set down my glass of wine, then eased onto the edge of my seat, I couldn't help but to rack my brain searching for these mysterious signs my spouse claimed to have noticed. Pressing my lips, my raised brows were certainly a huge sign that he needed to keep talking.

"This isn't easy to say, but I have realized that...." His voice trailed, nearly yanking me onto the floor as I angled closer hoping to hear something that would make all of this make sense. He couldn't even look me in the eyes as he continued to speak. "I think you need more than I have to offer."

Scrunching my face, I asked, "Where did you get that ridiculous notion?"

Zy failed to respond.

"Seriously, though. What's happening? Are you searching for reasons to destroy our marriage because nothing else adds up. We have lives that most people envy great careers, optimum health, financial stability and above all, love. I treasure my role as your wife, and you're all of a sudden living in some imaginary drama where you're not good enough for me. Make it make sense Zy, because I'm lost."

His tone seemed somber. "Okay, when was the last time we made love."

I had no idea where that question was taking us, but it was only a moment until I found out. "It should have been last night at the latest."

"Before that."

"I don't know, Zy, we've both been busy. What's with the questions?"

"You don't know because you've been avoiding consistent lovemaking so long that the gaps seem normal to you."

So, he wants another dude to fuck me because he feels I don't fuck him enough?

Defensively, I sat tall, posturing myself to die on the hill of denying Zy's apparant bulllshit. But that battle was short lived. My husband actually garnered receipts of the days and nights we've made love over the last six damn months. Though I felt the accusations surrounding his negative stance of past events were grossly misconstrued, the facts were the facts. And compared to how often we used to have sex, his data was powerful proof that things had indeed changed, but avoiding him?

I had to speak up. "We're adults, not college kids getting it in between classes. You're dealing with a stressful merger and your parents' divorce. I've been working overtime until more people are hired, never mind that I'm still recovering from multiple miscarriages. And why the fuck am I explaining this to you?"

Zy leaned back as he folded his arms across his chest and extended his legs. "It sounds like you're justifying your actions while proving my point."

Was he gloating?

"Whatever, Zy. None of this makes it okay for you to bring another man into our marriage, and you know it."

"I admit, I could have gone about that differently. For that I apologize, but I'm fully aware of your fantasies, see the porn you watch. I've even pretended not to notice you masturbating after we make love, and I just figured we... you needed something more."

"Yeah, Zy, a vacation, a spa day maybe, not another dick. What the hell is that supposed to prove?"

"Nothing, I just believe that I no longer turn you on and guys like Anthony still do."

So, Mufasa wasn't his name.

"You mean guys like my ex."

He quickly raised then lowered his shoulders.

"That's a reach, Zy, especially for you. Still, even if I could understand your reasoning, and I'm struggling with it; where the hell did you even find some random ass man willing to fuck your wife?"

"People talk."

"What people?"

"I don't know, Candi, sex people."

Again, my brows encouraged further explanation.

"I started going to that erotic shop on fifth looking for stuff to spice up our love life, and there were always people in there who knew stuff like that. One thing led to another, I met with Anthony, told him what I wanted, and he agreed."

The same negro who wouldn't purchase a fake vagina online all of sudden has the nerve to pick out a man to take his place in bed. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. I shook my head as I paced in front of him. "And what were you to get out of all this?"

"What I wanted to get was my wife back."

"You have your wife, Zy. And what you should've had was a conversation with me instead of some weird ass sex people."

"What would've changed? You shut down every mention of the two of us getting better sexually, spending more time exploring our vices, committing all we desire to one another."

"You've never tried, not once, to talk to me about any of that."

"For the past five years, I have. You've just chosen not to listen. And honestly, Anthony was my last resort."

My level of annoyance spiked as I asked, "Or what?"

"Or we're going to have to begin having a different kind of conversation."

"What... you planning to leave?"

"In all honesty, it crossed my mind."

"So why not do it. I'm clearly not fulfilling your  needs, so make it easy on both of us and go."

Zy stood, blocked my angry pace, then pulled me into his arms. The kiss that followed shook me. He consumed my core with a passion so overwhelmingly titillating my lustful urges awakened with a vengeance. Damn, I love this man.

I could still taste the bourbon on his tongue as he plunged it deeper towards the back of my throat. My erect nipples and tingling vaginal walls had nothing on the curved thickness, pulsating as I reached down and massaged beneath his sweats. He moaned, I whimpered, then... he pulled back and wiped his lips with the side of his thumb. 

What the actual fuck?

"I love you," he declared while adjusting himself. "But this is bigger than another man being with you. I miss this part of us. And until you figure out what's stopping it from being who we regularly are, there's not many more reasons I have to stay. I need you, all of you. And you know as well as I do, I don't have it."

The lump in my throat competed with the pressure in my chest.

"I'll be at the condo for a while. It'll give us both time to think about how to move forward. I love you."

I don't know how long I stood, statuesque in my living room, or how long I cried after Zy closed the door on what felt like our entire life together. I heard my phone ring, my doorbell chime, but nothing moved me.

As window pane shadows lined the living room, the jingle of keys caused my heart to flutter. I wanted to talk, to cry, to scream at my husband. I wanted to show him the depth of emotions that solidified my love for him. Ready to release my deepest thoughts and fears, I opened my mouth to call out his name. Before I could, I heard.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Danika cocked her head to the side before crossing the living room threshold. And that's when I felt it, the weight of my world crumbling around me. My husband was slipping away, and what I needed to do to keep him was the very thing that could very well completely tear us a part.