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322 pages, Kindle Edition
Published January 6, 2016

I do have a new message, but it’s the same message I’ve been receiving for months. It’s cryptic and it confuses me. The same sentence every single time – Pete doesn’t love you. He loves me, bitch.
“Don’t you want children, Pete? All of our friends are having babies and we don’t...
“Fuck, no. Not with you,” he spits.
I haven't fucked my own wife since the day we came back from our honeymoon. That being said, she still stood in front of me, begging for a baby like I would ever bring a kid into this fucked up life of ours. I want to be rid of her and I only have three years left.
I walk toward a place I try to never go, but I always cave in. Always. “Hey, baby,” she says. Her long dark hair isn’t silk, like Libby’s. She has broken ends. It isn’t soft, either, but feels like straw. “Hey,” I grunt when she wraps her body around mine. She presses her hard tits against my chest as her big fake lips press against mine. I don’t want her, I want my wife, but I’ll use this girl for now. I move my mouth so her lips miss and landed on my cheek. I can’t kiss her mouth. I never have and I never will.
I go inside of her apartment and I fuck her anyway.
Pete doesn’t want me, but he apparently wants the cheaper version of me. The woman isn’t ugly, but she looked like a whore, with skintight clothes that hugged her body in an almost vulgar manner. Her makeup was too dark and her hair was teased too high.
He told me when we were first married that he wasn’t planning on being faithful. I never thought for a moment that he was, but seeing the evidence with my own two eyes is more than I could handle.
Seven years without getting laid is ridiculous. He obviously isn't abstaining. Even though he told me in the beginning that he would get his somewhere else, my stupid brain wouldn’t accept it. I held out hope that he would realize how much he loved me and he would just be mine. I had been such a girl about it all these years, living on hopes and prayers. Not anymore. I was finally fed-up.
“Jolene, your ever so helpful publicist, sent me a picture of you and your whore; told me to fix my problem with you because she wasn’t going to keep the next one under wraps,”
The man who said he hated me, who was sleeping with a cheap carbon copy of me—he loves me?
“Neglect and infidelity can be just as harmful as fists, Pete,” Jackson says.
“You fuck around on her a lot?” Carlos asks.
“Yeah. Yeah, I did a lot,” I admit.
“She doesn’t deserve to have her husband stick his dick in every whore around town.” I say the words before I realize the implications.
Unlike you, I haven’t fucked half of the country, so excuse me. Not that it matters anymore. In a few months, we’ll be free to do what and whoever we want to,” I announce.
“But she needs a man who fucks around on her? She needs to look like his whore?”