by J. M. Paul
No, this can’t be.
After Jacob and I made love in four different rooms—without needing the assistance of his little blue pill—he fell asleep on the couch with a promise of four more rooms and some pizza when he woke up. I was still riding the sex high and couldn’t nap, despite being exhausted, so I decided to go through a few of my mom’s folders before Jacob woke up again.
I really wish I hadn’t. By now, I should know to leave well enough alone.
“Hey,” Jacob says, voice hoarse from sleep.
I whirl around and see him leaning against the doorframe. Jacob’s eyes zero in on the picture still clutched in my sweaty hand. It causes panic to swell up inside me, threatening to swallow me. I quickly turn, trying to hide the evidence, but I’m not fast enough.
“What are you looking at?” he asks.
Is it me, or does his tone sound accusing?
“Uh, nothing.” My voice wobbles. Stupid traitorous voice.
“Joslyn, show me what’s in your hand.” Jacob enters the room and crouches next to where I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, papers spread around me. “Have you been snooping through my things?”
“What? No,” I rasp.
“Then, why are you holding a picture of me and Juliana from college?” He plucks the photo from my hand and studies it.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
A realization starts to tingle at the back of my skull.
When his eyes find mine, I’m not sure what he sees, but whatever it is has his brows pinching together and his lips pressing into a hard line.
“Jacob—”
“Why do you have this?” He waves the photograph in his hand, his tone reproachful.
I don’t want to say anything because I know, once I speak the words, everything will change between us. But I can’t lie, not to him.
“It was with my mom’s things.” I point at the open cardboard box with my mom’s handwriting on the side.
“Why was it in there?” His mouth slackens.
It’s quiet for a while, too long, before Jacob’s eyes move from the picture to the papers and folders scattered around the room to the box and back to the picture before finally landing on me. We stare at each other for the longest minute until I see horror enter his eyes.
“It’s true,” he whispers so quietly, I almost can’t hear him.
“What do you mean, it’s true?” I ask in a croaky voice.
“The handwriting in the other letter.” He frantically searches the surrounding folders. “Where did you find this? Was there anything else with it?”
No words will form, and my chest heaves, trying to suck in air.
“Was there anything else with this picture?” he snaps.
I jerk back, my hand going to my throat. I’ve never seen him so distraught, and I’m not sure how to handle this version of Jacob.
“Joslyn,” he barks.
“Y-yes.” I reach under my knee and pull out a folded note. “This letter. I haven’t read it yet.”
He grabs it from my hands, his eyes making quick work of reading. “Fuck. Fuck!” He throws the paper and stands to pace the room, grumbling to himself.
Without hesitation, I pick up the discarded document and carefully read every word.
Dear James and Judith,
I contacted you once before about coming to my college graduation but received no response. I understand hearing from me is strange and unexpected, but I’m not seeking anything from you—other than to meet the people who gave birth to me. This has become abundantly more important since I recently found out I’m pregnant. I’m questioning if I should keep the baby. The father and I are still together. He’s asked me to marry him, and I’ve agreed.
It would mean a great deal to me if you came to the wedding. Jacob is a good man and has a bright future. He’ll be able to take care of me and the baby, if I decide to keep it. There are no expectations, no judgments from me. I’m just a girl wanting to meet the two people who gave her life.
Please find a picture of me and Jacob enclosed. I hope to see you.
Sincerely,
Juliana Shawnee
I find it weird that the only thing I can think about is the fact that all of our names begin with a J—Joslyn, James, Judith, Juliana, Jacob, Jagger, Jenna. It’s all a little strange, especially since Juliana was adopted.
The second thing I notice is Juliana was pregnant when Jacob asked her to marry him. I wonder if it forced the decision or if it would have come about naturally.
When I turn toward Jacob, he’s still muttering and pacing the room.
It’s true, I think.
Jacob’s deceased wife is my sister, biologically speaking.
Oh my God, Jacob’s wife is my sister! I’ve just spent the last twenty-four hours making love to my dead sister’s husband all over their house.
Springing to my feet, I’m not sure what to do with myself. Usually, when I need time alone, I run into this room, but it’s not technically my room anymore. And the person I’m trying to escape is gripping his hair so tightly, I think he might rip it out, while wearing a path in the carpet in here.
I need a drink.
Exiting the bedroom, I head straight for Jacob’s office. The only alcohol we keep in the house is wine, except for the scotch that’s in Jacob’s office—and a lot of it. I’m not a huge fan of the stuff, but I know it’ll get the job done.
I grab the door handle and thank the gods of I Need Alcohol Now that Jacob forgot to lock it after we had sex on his desk earlier. I enter and quietly close it behind me. Without hesitation, I walk over to the bar to grab a glass and the full bottle of amber liquid. I sit in a chair facing the window overlooking the backyard.
It’s almost seven o’clock at night, and it’s still bright outside. This is the treasured time of year for Michiganders—when the weather finally breaks, and it stays lighter later. But I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is how much scotch I can ingest before it works its sweet magic and makes me pass out, so I can forget what I just learned.
I’m in love with my sister’s husband. A sister I had no idea existed until a couple of months ago but a sister nonetheless.
I’m not sure how my relationship with Jacob will handle this development. It’s so new, so fragile. Jacob doesn’t seem to be taking the information well, if his mumbling and wandering tells me anything. And me? I ran to a dark office that promised alcohol and oblivion. I’d say our coping mechanisms are not excellent at this point.
I unscrew the bottle’s lid, pour a few fingers full into the glass, and gulp it down. After I recover from the burn, I decant another couple of fingers’ worth into the tumbler and drink it slower this time.
While I sip, I let my eyes wander around the room. They say an office can tell you a lot about a person, but this office doesn’t give away much. Other than the owner who uses it is all business. The only personal item in here—at least from what I can tell—is the framed picture I gave him of the kids at Christmas. Seeing it makes my hand snake up to the silver necklace with the J and gold smiley face that Jacob gave to me the same day. I haven’t taken it off since he put it on me all those months ago. Things between us have changed so drastically since then.
Sitting back in the chair, I watch the sun fade outside the window, and I welcome the darkness that starts to slowly wrap around me. The absence of color combined with the scotch starting to waltz through my system bring a sliver of peace—until the office door creaks open behind me. The hallway light filters in through the entry, causing me to squint. Jacob’s large frame casts a shadow over the room, and I hear him release a deep exhale.
“I thought you left.” He hesitates before stepping inside, and he leaves the door cracked, so only a thin line of illumination touches the space.
“Where would I go?” My words are slightly slurred.
“Have you been drinking?” He skirts behind his desk to sit in his I-own-the-world office chair.
“
Why do you think I’m in here? This is where you hide the good stuff.” Lifting my glass, I jiggle it before I down the rest of the liquor.
“I think I’ll join you.” He grabs a tumbler, and from the sound of the glugging, he pours a hefty amount into it.
“Hit me up again.” I push my empty glass across the surface.
“Haven’t you had enough?” he asks.
I give him my best bitch face, but he can’t see it in the darkness.
What a shame.
“No,” I say sternly. “And I’ll decide when I have.”
There’s no reluctance between my words and him lifting the bottle to fill my glass.
Joslyn, one. Jacob, zero.
Although I note by the length of the sound that he poured significantly less scotch for me compared to himself.
Jacob quickly drinks his liquor and pours more while I gingerly sip on mine. I’m becoming quite buzzed, maybe slightly drunk.
Growing tired of the silence and the big fat circus elephant sitting on the desk, staring at us, I blurt, “So, your wife was my sister. You just screwed the hell out of your sister-in-law.” A crazed giggle releases from my chest at those words.
“Jesus, Joslyn.” Jacob slams the glass on the desktop. I hear liquid slosh over the rim.
“I thought I’d get it out there.” I wave my hand through the air. “How do you feel about this new development?”
He remains mute for so long, I’m not sure he heard me or understood the new language I created. It’s called Slur English.
Slurnglish. I hear it’s already trending on Twitter.
Setting my drink down, I shake my head to clear the drunky-girl digression. “Jac—”
“I don’t know, Joslyn. This is all rather new, and I’m still digesting.” His tone sounds angry, and it does something to my scotched-up girlie parts.
Down, girl. Now is not the time.
A humorless chuckle makes its way up my throat and ends in a miserable groan. “We said I love you not even twenty-four hours ago, and we’ve already failed our first test.” I raise my arms and then let them smack against the top of my thighs.
“It’s a pretty big fucking test.” He sits as tranquil as he can be in his office chair. The ever cool, calm, and collected Mr. Jacob Ancroft, trying to rule the world from behind his desk.
His demeanor pisses me off.
A growling scream vibrates in my throat.
“We haven’t failed, Joslyn,” he says slowly. “I’m just…I’m trying to figure out how to deal with this…situation.”
“Well then, get your shit together, Ancroft. Because, if you can’t handle this—”
“Then, what?” Jacob’s chair squeaks as he leans forward, setting his glass of scotch on the desk and then propping his elbows on the surface.
“Then, whatever this is between us can’t go any further.” I stand. “You have to decide if you can get over the fact that your deceased wife was my sister. I have to determine if that freaks me out or not, but I already know I’m willing to try with you because I want this. I want us. The question sitting between us is, do you?”
Silence is a line between us, weighted and heavy, only fractured by our breathing and the tick of a clock from somewhere in this lonely room. I blink several times, cursing the darkness that once made me happy. I need to see the expression on his face because it will tell me everything I need to know. But his muteness speaks volumes for him.
“I’ll take your lack of response as my answer.” I turn to leave but pause before I exit. “I’m going to grab some of my things and head out. I’ll pick up the kids for school and daycare on Monday morning.”
I remain motionless for a few beats, hoping he’ll stop me, but he doesn’t.
On my way down the hall to Jacob’s room, I send a request for an Uber driver since I’ve had too much to drink. I also shoot off a text to Maya.
Me: Can I stay the night at your place? I’ll explain why later.
She instantly responds.
Maya: Of course!
While I wait for the driver, I pack a bag with clothes and bathroom items. I grab my backpack and stuff it full of schoolbooks, my laptop, and the last folder I haven’t gone through from my mom’s things.
When I’m standing at the front door and the headlights of the Uber pull into the driveway, I turn to see if Jacob has come to say good-bye. The hallway’s dark and empty.
With a shake of my head and a tear sliding down my cheek, I close the door behind me.
“Hey,” I say to the female driver as I climb in the backseat.
“Hi there. All set?” she asks as she puts the car in reverse.
I look toward the house one more time, and I swear, I see a silhouette of Jacob in the front window, but it’s probably my imagination.
“Yeah,” I whisper even though I want to scream, No!, so I can give Jacob just a few more seconds to prevent me from leaving.
As the driver backs out of the driveway, I slouch in my seat, rest my head against the headrest, and say good-bye to the house and family I started to call home.
CHAPTER 30
* * *
HOUSE OF MEMORIES
“How ya doing, girl?” Maya asks when she finds me standing outside her apartment.
Words escape me as I drown in the tears tracking down my cheeks and choke on the sounds leaving my mouth.
“Oh, Jos.” She drapes her arm around me and leads me into her place. Taking my bags from me, she drops them on the floor and lowers me onto the couch. “Do you want something to drink? Um, something nonalcoholic because you smell like a distillery.”
She waves her hand in front of her nose, giving me a sassy smile. I love her for it.
“Hot tea?” I’m not much of a tea drinker, but it always seems like it makes everyone feel better in the books I read or movies I watch.
“Sure thing.” She grabs a box of tissues off a side table, tosses them at me, and then goes into the kitchen. “When you’re ready, tell me what jerkface did.”
I blot my wet cheeks and blow my nose a couple of times. When Maya hands me a mug of hot tea and sits down next to me with her own, I decide it’s time to start talking, so I can figure things out.
“The kids are with their grandparents for the weekend, so Jacob and I had a sexfest in his house last night and most of today.”
She scrunches her face. “And that’s a problem why?”
“That’s not the problem. I’m giving you the lead-in.” I blow on the steaming liquid in my hands.
“Ah.” She mimics zipping her lips closed.
“He asked me to move into his room with him, and I agreed. Right after, we said I love you to each other.” I sniffle but fight back the threatening tears at the memory.
“Aw.” Maya reaches over and squeezes my knee.
“It was perfect, My. The whole night and day, but my curiosity had to ruin everything. Why couldn’t I just bask in the post-coital glow with that lovely man?”
I shake my head and dive into the story of everything that happened thereafter.
“Holy shit.” Her dark brown eyes are as big as saucers when I finish. “Jacob’s wife is your sister? What are the chances?”
“I’d say slim to none, but you know me when it comes to luck and love.” I shrug.
“Crap.” She falls back against the couch cushions.
“A whole pile of it.” I nod.
We sip our hot tea, watching each other and having a complete conversation without words.
“Well,” she says after a while, “at least he screwed you with his dick before he became a dick.”
I bark out a laugh. It doesn’t matter how sad or upset I am; Maya can always find a way to make me chuckle. I’m thankful she’s my best friend because not only is Maya beautiful on the outside—gorgeous chocolaty skin, silky dark hair, brown eyes, and a killer body—she’s also lovely on the inside—fierce personality, caring demeanor, and humorous like no other. She gives me everything I can possibly need
in a girlfriend, and by some freak luck, Maya feels the same about me.
“Any advice for me?” I ask.
“Oh no, girl. Not even the Maya-Awesome can offer you anything. I’m going to have to sit and stew on this one before I dive in.” Maya stands, taking both our mugs into the kitchen. “Do you want something to eat? I’ll have to run to the store tomorrow for some break-up Ben and Jerry’s, but I probably have a frozen pizza.”
The thought of pizza—what Jacob promised to order us when he woke up after our fourth round of sexy time—has tears spilling from my eyes again.
“Oh, balls. What did I say?” Maya hurries over when she sees me struggling.
I shake my head. “Nothing. I think I need to get some sleep. We didn’t get much last night.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.” She rubs my back. “You take my bed.”
I shake my head. “No, I can’t do that.”
“Then, sleep with me. I’ll even let you cuddle if you want.” She winks.
“Thanks, but I’ll take the couch. No offense, but I need some alone time.” I give her a sheepish expression.
“I understand.” She gets up to retrieve a couple of blankets and pillows. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“I’m good, My. Thank you for taking me in.” I give her a sad smile.
“Anytime, Jos. You took me in when I needed it.” She leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “Come get me if you need someone to talk to or if you get lonely.”
“I will.”
“Love you,” she says.
“Love you, too.”
When my makeshift bed is ready, I wash my face, change into a cozy pair of pajamas, and crawl in to let my mind wander over the happenings of the day.
I know finding out I’m related to his wife must be strange, but I thought Jacob would handle a shocking situation better than he did. He’s an official grown-up, he’s been through hardships, he’s a businessman who makes huge deals and decisions every day, but he couldn’t try to work things out with me. He closed himself off, and that was it.
Whatever comes of this situation, I know one thing to be true. I can’t be involved with someone who is unwilling to communicate.
