My Husband Wants An Open Marriage (Julie and Ryan) novel Chapter 2

It’s true what they say about marriage: one partner is always happier than the other.

In my case, I’m the unhappy one. 

I’m the one who can’t sleep. I’m the one who watches her husband’s sleeping face at night, looking for a sign—anything to prove what I’ve suspected all along, that he’s cheating on me. Just say a word, goddammit, a name, something, dear God. That’s all I want. Say Emily, Ryan. Say Emily. 

But Ryan never does. He’s too controlled for that. 

I’m the one checking his phone, seeing notifications from the same person, the same tiny image. But I can’t see the name of the sender, can’t recognize the face due to the image size—though it looks like Emily. I can’t even read the messages because Ryan has privatized his pop-up notifications. 

I’m in the kitchen right now, already on my fifth cup of coffee. And it’s just 6 AM. 

“Morning,” Ryan says, walking in, rubbing his temple. “Feels like someone took a chainsaw to my head. Last night was fun.” 

“I’m glad you had fun,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady, but the bitterness slips through. He notices it, of course. He always does. 

“Something wrong?” Ryan asks, eyeing me cautiously. 

“Wrong?” 

“You seem… I don’t know, off.” 

I’m counting down from ten in my head. Calm down, Julie. Calm the hell down. But how can I? Ryan disgraced me last night, and he doesn’t even remember? 

“I’m fine,” I say. 

Ryan fetches himself a cup of coffee and joins me at the table. He’s watching me with that innocent look of his. 

Sometimes I forget how handsome he is. With his lovely, sharp jawline and his bright green eyes. The eyes were the first thing I fell in love with. We were freshmen in college, and Ryan mistook me for some girl he brought to the frat party, a girl he swore was his girlfriend. And well, I played along. I enjoyed playing the part, letting him call me Vivian. And in the morning, when he was sober again and didn’t recognize me, I told him Vivian no longer wanted him and I did. 

Funny how things turn out. 

“You say you’re fine,” Ryan says, breaking the silence, “but you keep looking at me like you want to murder me.” 

I grip the edge of the table, my nails digging into the wood. “You humiliated me last night, Ryan. How is anyone supposed to respect me when my own husband doesn’t?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about your stupid karaoke performance yesterday with that bitch, Emily.” 

Ryan slaps his forehead dramatically. “Oh, not this again. I’ve told you a hundred times, Julie, there’s nothing to worry about. You always bring her up, like you’re obsessed or something.” 

“Obsessed?” 

I want to throw my coffee cup at something, and it definitely isn’t the wall. 

“You have a life most women would kill for,” he continues. “A great job, a husband who comes home every night. Do you know how many women throw themselves at me? And yet, I come home to you. I pay your family’s bills. I’ve set up trust funds for your nieces and nephews. But it’s never enough, is it? You’re always whining about the same thing—Emily this, Emily that. It’s exhausting.” 

I’m shaking now, my heart pounding so hard I can barely breathe. But if I say anything more, he’ll call my mother again, and she’ll tell me I’m being ungrateful. “Stop trying to push Ryan into divorcing you, Julie,” she’ll say. “No one wants hand-me-downs. Do you want to be alone forever? Go on your knees and tell Ryan you’re sorry for being a bitch.” 

“How would you like me to show my gratitude, my lord?” I say, glaring at Ryan. “Should I commission a carven image of you and worship it?” 

“I’m not in the mood for your sarcasm, Julie. My head is already pounding enough.” Then something crosses his eyes, a strange look. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. I feel like now’s the right time.” 

Oh, God. My stomach tightens. He’s going to ask for a divorce. I can feel it. Mom’s going to kill me. She already planned a vacation in Rio in December. 

“What is it?” I ask, bracing myself. 

“I want an open marriage.”