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She finally shook her head.

“I don’t even know what to say to that. Are you leaving or should I?”

“Indi, you are being ridiculous!” I protested, barely holding back my temper.

“You cheated,” she said dismissively. “You can barely even apologize and you don’t think you’ve made any mistakes? It’s over, Ambrose.”

And with my offended hauteur, I had stalked away and moved in with Astrid.

My stupid pride and conceit had stopped me from instantly falling to my knees before my wife and begging for her forgiveness.

Why the fuck had I been so full of pride? There was no guarantee Indi would have forgiven me, but I should have pulled out all the stops and begged on my hands and knees.

Because I knew now that I was only fooling myself.

I had buried my feelings, but I hadn’t stopped loving her.

Now she had moved on. And not just with anybody. But a goddamn international rock star.

Why in the world had I been so conceited that I hadn’t gotten down on my hands and knees, hadn’t begged for another chance? Hadn’t done everything to prove I deserved another chance?

Indi had mentioned other mistakes, other things, had factored into her decision.

I wondered if my arrogance had somehow given me a disproportionate view of how I treated her. In my own head, she had always appreciated the guidance and wisdom of an older man. Perhaps I had been. . .somewhat overbearing at times? Full of my own opinion?

I was not used to critical self-reflection and now these pork medallions tasted like sawdust in my mouth.

My attempts at conversation with Astrid went nowhere.

She was flicking her eyes back and forth all around Indi’s yard, tracking their every motion. Her eyes looked bloodshot.

“Are you in love with Finn?” I asked, forcing another bite of pork medallion in my mouth.

Because I was damn sure I was in love with Indigo still.

But she ignored me, suddenly leaping from her chair and throwing open the window.

“Finn! Finn! Come over here! I’ve cooked your favorite for supper, blackberry tart!”

“Fucking hell!” I heard Finn bark, and I couldn’t entirely blame him.

I had to go pull Astrid from the window before she collapsed sobbing into a chair.

Astrid was clearly delusional. And I was probably just as delusional, too, to think Indi could ever look at me again.

Hell and damnation.

That night, I looked at the couch with loathing. I couldn’t stand another night on it, so I went outside to the back porch and settled myself on one of our new lawn chairs. It was padded, right? It had to be better than Astrid’s stiff leather sofa.

But I woke up a few hours later to noises.

It appeared Indi’s bedroom window was open and she and Finn were engaging in some nocturnal activities.

Shit

And I couldn’t even move, because the ridiculous nonsensical chair would squeak and she’d know for sure that I was there. After falling out of the curtains I couldn’t bear to let her think I was just sitting around all day waiting to spy on her having sex with her new man.

So I just lay there, poker-stiff and still.

“Baby, you’ve got to move out of this neighborhood,” Finn said. “It’s filled with psychotic lunatics and creepers.”

Indi's voice was so soft I couldn’t hear what she said, but my skin crawled with shame.

“Come on, angel,” he said, and I could hear a rustling, the sound of his lips meeting hers.

“I'll get you a way better house. Any place you want. Any town you want, any country you want. Somewhere with a high gate and guard dogs so Ambrose and Astrid won’t always be crawling in the windows.”

She laughed then, and I burned with shame.

How had I, an unusually intelligent man, managed to fuck up my life to this extent?

There was no way to avoid my feelings. I had to lay there with tears gathering in my eyes, blurring my vision until they slowly fell down my face as Indi got thoroughly pleasured by another man.

The night was so quiet I was able to hear everything.

“Come on top so I can see you. . .”

“Hell no, you aren’t too big, mama. . .”

Low groans

“That’s it, this is the best shit, this is the best pussy, oh Indi, girl, you have to marry me. . .”

Then the breathy sweet groans of Indi and I had never been so jealous of anyone in my entire life, because I knew exactly what Indi looked like grinding down on my dick.

And now she was pregnant, oh god, she’d look even more beautiful. . .

When they were finally done, I wiped my wet face on my shirt and went inside. Then I stayed up the rest of the night, pouring my heart out passionately in a letter to Indigo. She was worthy of every height of poetry, every beautiful turn of phrase.

I couldn’t believe I had been such a fool.

“She walks in beauty/like the night,” I began with the most romantic sonnet in my arsenal.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day/

Indi, thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

Perhaps it would be a little awkward, to co-parent with Astrid, but living next door would mean our child would have easy access to both parents.

“Your hair falls like auburn-shadowed gold,” I began. “Your teeth are like a flock of sheep.”

OK, maybe that was plagiarizing Song of Solomon. “You can sink those pretty little teeth into my cock any day.” Damn, now that was going way too far to the other extreme.

But still I poured my heart out, telling Indi like I never had before all my regrets about how I had behaved, how stupidly I had acted. How it had been nothing but a mistake with Astrid and it was only my foolish pride that had made me move in with her afterward.

After I was approximately twenty-two pages in, I re-read the whole thing, hoping it was as convincing as I thought, and that I wasn’t too maddened by sleep deprivation.

Feeling a bit melodramatic, I kissed the envelope, then sealed the entire thing with my fancy wax seal, and put it in my ex-wife’s mailbox.

Then I lay down to grab a few hours’ sleep on the horrible couch.

I overslept, but the first thing I did was hurry to the yard to see if Indi had received my letter yet.

To my horror, the first thing I saw was Finn at the mailbox.

“That’s for Indi!” I called to him, but, before I could leap over the hedge and wrest the envelope from his fingers, he had ripped it open and my passionate declarations of love were in my rival’s big meaty hands.