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Dear Bridget, I Want You(72)



“Did he say that exactly?”

“Well, he’d tell me that he didn’t feel comfortable exploring…certain things sexually with her. He didn’t feel right because she was the mother of his child.”

If that wasn’t the sorriest excuse I’d ever heard.

Gritting my teeth to hide my anger, I said, “Right. He’d make love to her and he’d fuck you.”

“If you want to put it that way…yes.”

“Did he ever talk about leaving Bridget?”

“No. I knew he would never consider that because of his son, and I would have never asked him to. But honestly, we didn’t talk a lot about his home life when we’d spend time together. That wasn’t the point of our affair. We enjoyed the carefree nature of our relationship. The few times he opened up, he did mention that even though he loved his wife, that things between him and Bridget were strained at times. He didn’t think Bridget was happy anymore. Ben was with me for an escape, and I was escaping a bad relationship at the time myself. We really didn’t set out to hurt anyone. We never wanted anyone to find out about us, certainly never intended it to come out this way.”

He wanted to escape his home life.

I looked up at the ceiling and silently continued my conversation with him from earlier.

Bridget wasn’t happy? Go fuck yourself, Ben. Maybe if you’d given your wife the same energy you’d given your whore…things would have been different.

I continued, “So, your philosophy is…what people don’t know won’t hurt them?”

“Basically, yes. I mean, we weren’t really thinking about anyone else. It was selfish, but we couldn’t help our connection. Once you cross the line the first time, that’s it. You can’t really go back, nor do you really want to.”

I needed to get to the crux of the matter before I lost it on her and flipped this table.

“You have a daughter…”

“Yes.”

“I think you probably can guess what I’m going to ask next.”

“Olivia is not Ben’s,” she insisted.

Squinting my eyes skeptically, I asked, “How old is she again?”

“Three.”

“Technically, it’s possible, then. How can you be sure she’s not Ben’s?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure.”

My eyes stretched open. “Ninety-nine. Not a hundred…”

“Like I said, it’s nearly impossible.”

I leaned in. “How is that the case if you were having regular sex with him?”

“Ben was religious about using condoms. He didn’t want to take even the smallest risk of getting me pregnant.”

“And this other man you were with…you had unprotected sex with him?”

“Yes. He was my long-term boyfriend. We’d been together almost ten years when I met Ben. Brian and I aren’t together anymore.”

I checked my phone and realized it was time for me to head to work.

“Look, Gina, I’m not going to push this issue or do anything to influence Bridget one way or the other, but if she ends up wanting a DNA test, would you be willing to have Olivia tested to match for a sibling against Brendan?”

“Yeah. I mean, if it will put this to rest. My ex, Brian, knows about my affair with Ben. I ended up telling him after we broke up. But he’s taken responsibility for Olivia. He believes he’s her father.”

“Alright…well, I appreciate your willingness to cooperate if it comes to that.” I stood up. “I have to be going now.”

She stopped me. “Before you go…for what it’s worth, please tell Bridget I’m really sorry. I don’t think she’s gonna want to hear that. But it’s the truth. It was so hard not being able to go to Ben’s wake and funeral. Aside from my own injuries that prevented me from it, I couldn’t face her. Ben may not have been in love with me like he loved his wife, but I knew he cared about me. It wasn’t just sex, you know? We were friends, too. I’ll never get over what happened to him. But I certainly wish that this whole thing hadn’t come out. Nothing good can come from this now.”

“I wish I’d never found out about it, to be honest. Now, I’m faced with having to ruin her memory of him. But I can’t not tell her.”

“I understand. You’re in a difficult position.”

“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”

“No problem.” She smiled, her eyes landing on my torso before returning upward. “Bridget’s a lucky woman.”

I walked away, refusing to acknowledge her last comment, which didn’t sit right with me at all. It made me feel like she’d do it all over again if given the opportunity. Once a cheater, always a cheater. It was amazing how easy it was for her to justify her actions. They had a connection, my arse. Fuck that. He was married to someone who believed in him and who thought their marriage was sacred.