But the words wouldn't come.  Her heart was hurting again, and her mind was consumed with memories of the last two years.

For months, she thought he was coming home later and later due to the increased work load he was shouldering at work.  The restaurant was booming, and the last tables were lingering later and later each night.  Couples sipped champagne well past midnight, gazing into each other's eyes as the piano player's fingers screamed from six straight hours of playing the romantic and gentle ballads on his sheet music.  As the night manager, Andrew had to stay later and later each night, waiting for the last customers to close their tabs and slip out into the night, arm in arm and cheek to cheek.  Rebecca did not worry, she knew he would slip into bed shortly before the morning light and gently rouse her from her slumber with gentle nibbles that would slowly grow to passionate kisses; he missed her so much working these long hours and she now knew that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder. 

But a few months after his new schedule began, Rebecca noticed their night time rendevous growing shorter and shorter; their lovemaking started to turn into a mere stress release for him, and she wondered why he even bothered to wake her rather than taking care of his sexual urges himself.  She was certainly getting pleasure out of it no longer.  But she chalked it up to his exhaustion and weariness of dealing with the ridiculous restaurant business.

Rebecca hatched a plan to retrieve the love they had lost.  Andrew had to work on their anniversary, and she was supposed to eat at the restaurant that evening.  But she had another idea.  She called him at work that night and apologized, sniffling and coughing, that she had to stay home because she had come down with the flu.

"Aw, honey," Andrew cooed. "I hope you feel better.  Tell you what, in the morning I will make you some hot lemonade and some honey and I will wait on you hand and foot until you feel better."

She smiled as she hung up the phone and hopped in the shower.  She shaved... everywhere.  Andrew had been bugging her for months to go completely hairless, but it made Rebecca feel so exposed and self conscious, she hadn't been able to bring the razor to her most delicate skin.  But once she had, she felt... well... sexy.  She put on make up and did her hair, slipped on the dress Andrew had told her could make any man lose himself when he looked at her.  And she waited until the clock struck midnight, and left the home she and Andrew had so painstakingly designed and decorated a mere six months ago.

Half an hour later, she was pulling into the restaurant's parking lot.  She waited until all the other cars left the lot, Twenty minutes after the last coworker's car drove out of the lot, she giddily glided up to the door of her husband's work place and sauntered inside.

She walked back to the kitchen, but Andrew wasn't there.  She figured he was in the office, but when she opened that door, it was deserted as well.  In fact, the restaurant looked completely shut down.  It was only 1:30 am.  Rebecca was ecstatic that he had managed to get everyone out sooner than usual, because he had told her that usually the last dishwasher leaves around 3 a.m.  But where was Andrew?

She was walking back to the front, near the restroom, when she heard a gently laugh.  Rebecca froze.  It was a woman's voice.  But how could it be?  All the employess were gone, Andrew's was the only car left in the lot! 

The laugh again... but this time the voice had deepened and sounded... different...

Then a soft groan.  A man's voice.  A woman's moan.  The sound of kissing.  Her feet were carrying her toward these noises, even though she knew she did not want to see what she knew was going on behind the bar of her husband's restaurant...  But she was gliding again, without the giddiness of before.  A pit was growing inside her stomach and she was sure her heart was going to fall through her chest and into that pit...

She slowly peeked around the bar.  A flash of blonde hair, a pile of clothes, and her husband's eagle tattoo on his right shoulder slammed into her line of vision.  His breathing was so familiar, but she couldn't believe what she was seeing, what she was hearing.  "Oh, Andrew," the blonde woman throated.  "You're amazing."

Rebecca whirled back around, turning her back to the scene she was witnessing.  His breath... only she was supposed to hear him in that state of ecstacy... Not this blonde girl he was mounting. She heard him exhaust himself on the girl as tears rolled down her face.  "Stephanie," he whispered.  "I think I'm falling in love with you."

Rebecca silently left the restaurant.  She collapsed on her steering wheel in a heap of dispair.  Her life, she thought, was over.