Tasha paced her room debating her decision. She’d finally decided that the day to confront Tom about the past had arrived. She just wished she had the courage to do so during the day and not—she looked at her bedside clock—at ten in the night. She’d been pacing for almost an hour since her decision and her stomach was still in knots. There was nothing calming about pacing.
“Oh God!” she moaned chewing on her nails. She wouldn’t have been so nervous if not for his outburst that afternoon when he called her a whore. And dinner, she was ready to use a butcher knife to carve the tension up to pieces because it had been suffocating!
But if she insisted on this path, what if she’d done worse than cheat? She would be going into the confrontation blind. She huffed, but what could be worse than bringing a child of adultery into her marriage home?
The knots in her stomach tightened. Her hand to her belly she bent over and groaned. She was going to hurl!
“No!” she straightened. “Buck up and get things out in the open once and for all.”