The Dance by Alison G. Bailey Page B

want me to do about it?”
    “Give a shit?”
    “Each person has to find their own happiness.” He sounded cold.
    There was no evidence that my words affected him in any way. In fact, he looked annoyed that I was taking up his time.
    I inhaled a couple of deep breaths, needing to keep my emotions in check. If I broke down, the conversation would be over. I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted to deal with whatever was causing this tear.
    “With us. I’m not happy with us, Will.”
    He didn’t react immediately, his gaze drifted down. I was in hopes that my words were sinking in. That he was understanding where I was coming from and realized that we needed to take action before things got worse.
    He finally looked over at me. “I think things are good.”
    My mouth dropped open.
    “I need to get back to work.” Turning toward the desk, he picked up a pen, and started scribbling something on a piece of paper.
    “Is that what you call it?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I know you do more than just work in here,” I said.
    More scribbling. “I have no idea what you’re getting at.”
    “I saw what you were doing with that woman on the screen.” He looked up, his face squished together. He was committed to playing the innocent. “After we had that big argument I felt bad so I came down here to talk with you.”
    Will dropped his pen, leaned back in the chair, and stared out the window. The air between us was suffocating but I was determined to wait him out.
    After what felt like a lifetime, Will said, “I can explain.”
    I leaned back in my chair. “I’m all ears.”
    “Guys do stuff like that as a stress reliever. It’s no big deal.”
    “What guys? . . . and it is to me.”
    “All guys look at porn. It’s natural. It’s a god-given right, really.”
    “Really? You have the right to cheat on your wife.”
    His hands went in the air as he spun the chair around to face me. “Whoa! Hold on a second. I’ve never cheated on you.”
    “What was that the other night?”
    “Jacking off!”
    “You . . . were say . . . ing things to . . . each other,” I stammered.
    Will flailed his arms. “I wasn’t sticking my dick in her!”
    “So . . . as long as . . . that . . . doesn’t happen . . . everything else is on the table.” My voice shook with pain.
    “God, Bryson, don’t make this into something. It’s not a big deal. It’s normal.”
    My lips quivered as a tear rolled down my face. “It didn’t look normal to me.”
    Dropping his chin to his chest, Will slumped forward in the chair.
    A second wave of bravery washed over me. “What’s Virtual Life?”
    Will slowly lifted his head. “What?”
    “You go to that site a lot.”
    “You were on my computer?” he said accusingly.
    “You get on mine.”
    “Because I fucking paid for it and it doesn’t have anything important on it. I have sensitive work-related information on mine.”
    “It’s not like you work for the FBI.”
    “Do you have any idea how bad it would be if you hit one wrong key and deleted a file?”
    “I know my way around a computer, Will. We’re getting off track.”
    “Oh, I think we’re right on track. I work my ass off day and night for a wife who thinks I’m lying and cheating. Jesus Christ, Bryson, when is it going to be enough for you? I give you everything you want.”
    Unable to hold them back any longer sobs trickled out of me.
    “What’s Virtual Life?” I repeated.
    Will’s brown eyes looked darker than usual.
    His voice low and controlled. “It’s a gaming site. I get on there when I need to go brain dead for a while. I play war, Knights of the Round Table, cowboys. That’s it.”
    “Open that folder on your computer.”
    “What folder?”
    “The one that requires a password.”
    He chuckled humorlessly. “No, I’m not going to do that.”
    “What’s the problem if you don’t have anything to hide?”
    “I can’t waste any more time on this. I’ve got work to do.”
    We stared