Claim 2: Volume Two Read Online Free

we’re going to talk and if it’s possible, I’m going to save my marriage, but doing it at her place of business—my job as well—isn’t the right time.
    Thinking I’d meet her at home, I waited in the driveway for what seemed like hours before I used my key to wait inside.  When the sun started to set, I began to worry and considered calling to make sure she was okay.  Needing to distract myself for a little while longer, I walked into Loren’s room—our bedroom—and pulled out the box of pictures she keeps on the shelf in the closet.  It must have been exactly what I needed to keep my mind off her.  One second I’m looking through images of a vacation we took and the next the sound of keys hitting the table jar me from my memories.
    Quietly, I put the box away, keeping a few pictures out to show her, remind Loren exactly how good we can be together when I’m not being a jackass.  When the water starts running in the bathroom, I halt myself from rushing to her, giving her the few moments she needs.  Loren’s a creature of habit, each action having a purpose.  Walking in the house and the first thing she does is draw a bath, it’s most likely due to her being stressed.
    Feeling guilty, assuming that stress is probably because of me invading the one place she can escape everything else, I make a plan to leave as soon as I hear her sloshing around in the water, only that doesn’t happen.  A knock on the door startles me and when I hear the voice of a man my stomach churns.
    Needless to say, I’m unable to leave without giving myself away.  So, against everything I believe in, I sit on the bed and wait.  And wait.  And wait some more. 
    When the man says he’s going to leave, my excitement can barely be contained.  For one, their little rendezvous didn’t end up in the bedroom.  That would be pretty difficult to explain.  And two, I’ll finally be able to leave this damn bedroom.  Playing Clash of Clans is only a good time when you actually have things to do and Facebook is full of slutty selfies and ducklips. 
    The front door opens and after a few minutes closes.  Stepping into the hallway, Loren walks to the couch, rubbing her lips.  I know that move.  She’s done it with me before.  He kissed the hell out of her and her dazed look proves that this guy might have a little more invested that I initially thought. 
    “Looks like my competition is stronger than I thought.”
    “Holy shit, Jordan!” she screams, jumping off the couch, gripping her chest, her face a ghostly white.  The color quickly returns to her cheeks and Loren walks into the kitchen. 
    “Who was that?” I ask, only a few steps behind, desperately fighting the defeated attitude threatening to overtake my mind. 
    “None of your business,” she scoffs, pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge and pouring a glass.  Raising the bottle in my direction, I shake my head and grab a beer instead. 
    Walking back into the living room, I take a seat in the recliner, the chair I purchased when we first bought this house.  Letting the cushions surround my body, the familiar feel comforts me enough to not start freaking out about my wife making out with some random guy.  There’s so much I have to tell her and starting an argument will afford me a first class ticket to Get the Fuck Out. I’ve been there, not really a fan, pretty sure I don’t want to go back.
    Loren takes the spot furthest from me on the sofa, setting her glass on the table after a long swallow and stares at me.  I can see the gears working—her trying to figure out what to say—her mouth opening and snapping closed soon after. 
    “I’m sorry.  I didn’t expect this to happen,” I start. 
    “What did you expect?  You’ve been hiding in my bedroom for how long? Obviously before I got home from work.  What the hell is that about, Jordan?  I never really took you for the creepy stalker guy.”
    “I wanted to talk.  I tried so hard not to