Finally, almost in desperation, Becky started reading Bryan’s books in earnest. It was stomach-churning. She was appalled at the unflattering picture that was painted of women’s behaviour and sexuality. One male author claimed that most women find it perfectly acceptable for a married woman to get pregnant by her Alpha lover and pass it off as her beta husband’s kid. Becky slammed the book shut and went online, looking for articles written by women to refute this monstrous claim.
To her horror, everything she read only confirmed it. Okay, the feminist writers hotly denied that any woman would behave in such a fashion … and yet they were fervently against mandatory DNA testing. They had no problem with child support laws which forced men to pay for children not biologically theirs. They condemned men who insisted on paternity as ‘insecure in their masculinity’. In fact, as far as Becky could tell, the official feminist position was that a woman’s right to privacy superseded the child’s right to know who their true father was.
It was ironic. The more Becky read articles by female writers talking about women’s rights, the more her thoughts went from ‘Why doesn’t Bryan trust me?’ to ‘How does any man trust any woman ever?’
***
Bryan was at work when he received a text from his wife:
‘Are you free tonight? I want to watch Casablanca with you! x’
Bryan was moved. He had always felt that his love of black-and-white movies was something his wife tolerated rather than accepted, so her invitation meant a lot. He texted back yes and after work, on his way home, he picked up a bottle of champagne.
The moment he walked into the kitchen-dining room, he knew something had changed. Becky looked at him with gleaming eyes, she couldn’t stop touching him, and he had the sense that she had to remind herself to share his attention with Tara. When he pulled out the bottle of champagne, Becky laughed and opened the fridge door. There, next to the milk, was an identical bottle.
‘Snap!’ said Tara, from her chair.
‘Snap indeed…’ said Becky.
She stepped up to Bryan, her gaze on his, and lifted her chin for a kiss. He made it quick, but Becky still managed a naughty flick of the tongue before she took the bottle from his hand and went to the fridge. Bryan looked at the ass in her jeans as she walked. Something was cooking in addition to dinner and he couldn’t wait to find out what it was.
Bryan put Tara to bed that evening, forcing himself not to rush despite half his mind already being downstairs. Eventually, the little girl drifted off towards sleep and Bryan went to join his wife. Becky had the DVD in the machine, the champagne was being poured as he came in and the two settled themselves down onto the wraparound couch to watch Casablanca on their giant flatscreen monitor.
Bryan had seen the film so many times that he knew great chunks of it by heart, yet this viewing was special. The first time he had watched it with Becky some years ago, she had been polite and attentive, but this time she was utterly caught up in the story. She laughed at the humour, clutched at Bryan at the drama, and during the love scenes … it was hard to describe. She was enraptured. As the final scene played out and Humphrey Bogart put Ingrid Bergman onto a plane, Becky had tears streaming down her face.
‘My god,’ she said. ‘What a film…’
When it was over, Bryan turned on a lamp, put the DVD away, and rejoined his wife on the couch. He wanted to make love to her, yet he sensed that she had some ulterior purpose, so he just held her and waited. Becky inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly. Then she detached herself from Bryan, turned on the couch and faced him.
‘I love you, Bryan,’ she said. ‘I absolutely love you.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I can feel it.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Becky. ‘And listen, if you need to qualify it, I won’t get angry.’
‘This is because of what I said last time, isn’t it?’
‘Well, of course! When I called you “the man I love”, you basically said, “Becky, I know you mean well, but you don’t really know what you’re talking about”!’
Bryan smiled sadly. He looked down.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what I was thinking.’
He looked up.
‘But something’s changed. You’ve reached some kind of decision and now when you say “I love you”, it has substance. You’re not just saying it because you want me to say it back.’
‘I am so glad to hear you say that.’
Becky wiped a tear from her eye and gave a great sigh of relief. Bryan moved to give her a hug, but she raised a hand.
‘Not yet, my darling,’ she said. ‘There’s something I want to talk about first.’
Bryan nodded. He patiently waited as Becky marshalled her thoughts.
‘There is a reason,’ she said, ‘that I wanted us to watch Casablanca this evening.’
‘I hoped there might be.’
‘Yes.’ Pause. ‘I want to revisit the topic of retaking our vows.’
Bryan nodded thoughtfully.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Now, I completely agree that the vows have to be more than just … “wishes”. As you pointed out, my desire to be a good mother goes right down to the depths of my soul. Whereas my desire to be a good wife … well, I want it, but not with the same depth. And the first step is to be honest about that.’
Bryan nodded his understanding but kept quiet. Becky continued.
‘So then the question comes up: What do I want that might go as deep? And my first thought was to look at you.’
‘At me?’
‘Yes. You see, when I look at you, Bryan, I see a man of integrity. You are the kind of man who will keep a promise even when it’s not in your best interests to do so. That said, I also see you choose your words very carefully. I used to think that was pedantic, but I’ve changed my mind on that. I now reckon that there is a deep, deep desire on your part to be a Man of His Word, maybe as deep as my desire to be a good mother. In fact, if you ever broke your word, I think it might break you.’
Bryan swallowed and looked down. He was so used to women looking at him while mentally comparing him to the man they thought he should be, that it was quite something to have a woman take the trouble to see him.
‘So, anyway,’ went on Becky. ‘I saw this about you and thought: Well, why not be the female equivalent? Why not be a woman of my word, a woman of integrity, a woman of honour? And then I remembered what happened with Marcus DeVere.’
Becky clasped her hands and looked down.
‘I have played that night over a thousand times in my head,’ she said. ‘And I honestly believe that if he had wanted me to leave the club with him, I would have said no. But this is not due to any strength of character on my part. It’s because you were there and I knew that if I were to abandon you for a night with Marcus DeVere, you’d divorce me the next day. There’s not a shred of doubt in my mind.
‘But saying no because you don’t want to suffer the consequences is not the same as a genuine desire to be a moral person. And although I do want to be a moral person, I have to be honest with myself about the fact that the desire doesn’t go very deep. I wish it did, but it doesn’t. When I look deep, deep, deep into my soul, what I see is that my desire to be trustworthy is not a fraction as deep as my desire to be loved.’