“I booked you a flight home. It’s up to you of course, but I think you should come with me,” she says. I look over at Parker but her eyes are glued to her lap. Why would I stay? There’s nothing left for me here.
Not that I have anything back home but it’s better than being here. God, I don’t even have a home. I lived in his wife’s home. I try to push those thoughts away and out of my mind.
I can’t say much about the ride from Parker’s to the airport and back to Melissa’s because it’s all a blur, a daze. I do remember I threw my phone in the garbage before I got on the plane.
* * *
I cried for two days. That’s all I gave myself. I refused to be the same broken woman I was the last time this happened, even though this pain is so much worse. I thought I could be in love with Jackson. With Alex there was no confusion that I was. I am. His betrayal and deceit is almost a million times worse. If Jackson broke my heart in two, Alex shattered it to pieces and stomped on it.
I play the lottery, much to Greg’s encouragement, because I hear him say the odds of that happening is like winning the lottery. I don’t win though. So I shower on the third day, take the few things I brought in my stolen suitcase, and put them away. I head to the phone store to get a new number and phone, then start to look for apartments. After being in New York and Alex refusing to accept my money after we started sleeping together, I managed to save a little under ten grand—more than enough for a security deposit and a few months’ rent and furniture. I text everyone I want to have my new number and as soon as I do Casey’s name comes up on the screen. I’m unsure if I want to talk to her, somehow thinking it could possibly be her calling me for Alex, but I do. I don’t give her every detail about what happened like I did with Parker, but enough so she knows some of what happened.
“I just don’t understand; I saw how he was with you. He loved you. Everyone saw it! Half the staff was dying with jealousy, especially Kristen.”
“Turns out I had absolutely nothing to be jealous of,” I reply bitterly.
“Did you give him a chance to explain?” she asks, and I pretend to have a business call and tell her I’ll call her back. You can’t explain away a wife. When I get back to the apartment there’s a package waiting for me at the door. It’s a small box. I open it up and it’s the new iPhone. It’s in its box but the seal is broken. There’s also a card. I open it.
Please call me whenever you’re ready.
Jackson.
“This can’t be happening,” I laugh. Melissa opens the door and sees what I’m holding.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“It’s from Jackson,” I mutter. She lets out a sigh.
“Another one?” She attempts to take it from me.
“Another one?” I ask her, confused. She doesn’t look the least bit surprised.
“He sends one every month,” she says matter-of-factly.
“What? Seriously?” I ask in awe.
“Yeah they started to come after the flowers stopped,” she admits guiltily. I look at her with a frown.
“Are you thinking of calling him?” she asks, and I fold my arms, but I don’t say no.
“No Madison. You’re hurting because of Alex but picking back up with Jackson would be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”
“I’m not picking up with him, I just want to know what he wants,” I say defensively.
“Does it matter?” she asks sharply. A stretch of silence.
“I don’t know,” I say but I make a point to call the number while she’s standing in front of me. She bawks.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this stupid shit!” she announces loudly before leaving the room. I mainly call out of spite, out of anger, because I’m furious and hurt and want to hurt someone else who deserves it. I want to argue and yell. Until I hear the voice on the other end, and then it all goes away.
“Sweetheart thank you. Thank you for calling me back.” His voice is still smooth and deep how it always was, coaxing me back to a different time. But it’s full of elation wrapped around desperation. I feel like I’m being pulled through a vortex.
“What do you want Jackson?” I’m trying to harden my voice but it sounds soft and weak, like how I’m feeling inside, and I realize this was a terrible idea.
“To talk, just ten minutes of your time. I promise that’s all I need and I’ll never bother you again.”
“Okay.”
We agree to meet for dinner and I tell myself I’m going to get him out of my head once and for all, to make him leave me alone or to take out my anger on him, but as I put on a sexy black bandage dress and do my makeup and hair, and get picked up in his car and taken to an upscale restaurant, I don’t even believe that. He’s been dormant since Alex but maybe because my heart and my soul are so raw, memories and old emotions are returning and, well, I’m not sure what it is I want.
I want something. Maybe it’s just to be numb, to erase Alex. Jackson hurt me but that level of devastation paled in comparison to how I feel right now. If Jackson scalped me, Alex decapitated me. It sounds grim but it’s hard to be optimistic with where I am. When I approach the table I’m surprised my heart still speeds up as he stands. His dark hair is neatly styled and he’s wearing a designer navy suit. He has more hair on his face but it doesn’t make him look older, just sexier, and I scold myself for still being attracted to this man.
I wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him. I was supposed to be over him. To be angry, come and run up his bill to the high heavens and leave him regretting seeing me, wanting me, knowing I’m the biggest mistake of his life. The one that got away, even though he never should have had me to begin with. But I’m questioning that as he pulls my body to his in a hug. He smells delicious as he always has, his body firm and familiar. Conflicting memories and emotions collide against one another. A storm starts to brew in me and I don’t know what it’s going to destroy—him or me.
He looks down at me and his gaze is intense and enrapturing, and it flips my stomach because it’s so familiar. I miss it more than I thought. It still makes me dizzy. I pull myself from him and sit down.
“You’re still breathtaking,” he says and pulls my hands in his.
“What do you want?” I say firmly but I don’t pull away. He slides a stack of papers over to me. My eyes scan them and I see it’s a dissolution of marriage. My heart trips over itself. Did he do it? Did he really do it? Is he free? But does it matter? He lied to me, he deceived me. The same thing Alex did, which is equally as bad, but he just did it first.
“I’m giving them to her next month. The day after my daughter’s wedding.”
I let out a huff. Of course he didn’t. He’s still married, trying to sell me the same script, just a sooner release date.
“I’m happy for you,” I tell him dryly. He arches a thick brow at me.
“This is for us,” he reiterates squeezing my hand, desperation in his eyes.
“I love you Madison. I thought it was just this fling, that it was the sex and your youth. But I can’t get you out of my mind. It’s real with us. I want you with me, I want us to be together, to take care of you. For you to be my wife one day.”
I think about what would have happened if I sat down with him before I left to New York and he said those things to me. Where would I be? I wouldn’t have met Alex. I probably wouldn’t have had the resolve to walk away even knowing how wrong it was. It was wrong, it’s still wrong, and those weeks I saw myself contemplating having those things with him have passed.
What am I doing here!
I shouldn’t be here; I can’t think straight. I’m not doing this. I’ve got to go. This was a huge mistake.
But I’m angry, becoming more furious by the second, and I want to hurt someone like they’ve hurt me. I look up and give him a wide smile, squeezing his hand back. He looks at me, his eyes widening with hope, his grin peeking through his plea. I lean in and look him directly in the eyes.
“I’m in
love with someone else. You should work things out with your wife and stop sticking your dick in a twenty-something-year-old.” His face falls, confusion littering it. And then I recognize it…despair. My chest clinches but I refuse to show him any other emotion. I stand up, walk over to him, and kiss his cheek.
“Goodbye Jackson. Don’t ever reach out to me again,” I tell him before I stand and turn to leave.
“Tell me you don’t still have feeling for me!” He says this loudly, desperately. Other patrons are looking at us now. I stop in my tracks.
“I have a lot for you, but sometimes you have to go with the flow, and my life isn’t flowing anywhere in your direction.” I say this without looking at him because I can’t.
When I leave the restaurant I feel better. Not good, but better. I’m thankful that he doesn’t follow me. I pull my phone out and request an Uber. I push away the memory of me meeting Alex.
Before I head inside of Melissa’s apartment I brace myself for an argument with her. She’s going to think I slept with Jackson or am starting something again. I know it took everything in her to not verbally accost me when I called him earlier in front of her.
Except when I enter the apartment, it’s not her and Greg sitting on the couch with disdainful looks for me. Melissa is there on one couch, her eyes in a book, and on the couch across from her sits…Alex. He stands when he sees me, his eyes sweeping over me, noticing I’m dressed in a short black dress, hair styled, makeup on, and probably wondering what I must have been doing. He looks partly angry but doesn’t have the energy to muster the rest. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and I’m surprised Melissa let him in.
“Where were you?” he asks, his voice sounding broken. I fight the urge to go and hug him and ask him if he’s okay.
“Where’s your wife?” I ask instead.
“Did you go on a date?” he counters. Melissa stands and heads towards her room. I fight the guilt I feel.
“Asks the man who’s married,” I spit back. His expression hardens and he bites his lip but then it softens.
“I’m not married Madison.” His voice is raised and pleading.
“Holly was my wife, yes. I was married. I should have told you but you were already so skeptical and hesitant about me I didn’t want to give you a reason to not get to know me, to give me a chance. I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have hid it from you. You saw her in my apartment because she wanted us to work things out and get back together. Apparently she saw me on Instagram and thought it was a sign or something. I told her it wasn’t and never would be.”
“Really? How long have you been divorced?” I ask sarcastically.
“A year and a half; we were separated six months before that,” he continues. I look at him, the man I let in who I trusted, and wonder if it’s true. How do I know if what he’s saying isn’t an exaggerated version? He reads my expression and takes out a paper, showing me a dissolution of marriage. This one isn’t for a future date like Jackson’s was. It’s legit.
It’s just like he said: official. They were done before he ever met me. I swallow hard.
“I-I didn’t used to be a bartender, I wasn’t like this all my life. Once upon a time I was a broker at my father’s firm. She was a journalist. We got married when I was twenty-four. We had it all: the house in the burbs, the six figure incomes, the 401k—everything that includes the American dream.” He lets out a long breath and clasps his hands together. I make my way to sit on the couch across from him. When I do he continues.
“She wanted a baby, and I was scared at first because something about the life I was living didn’t feel right. It was like I was wearing someone else’s life but it didn’t matter. I loved her and I wasn’t miserable so I thought, why not? My parents were ecstatic when I told them we were trying and every day the idea grew on me until I could practically see my little boy or girl.” He smiles at this but it’s sad and I feel tears coming to my eyes.
“She—We had been trying,” he says, clearing his throat. “But it wasn’t happening as easy as we thought it would.” He shakes his head. “I wanted a child with her but I was okay if it didn’t happen. I said we could adopt if she wanted, get a surrogate, whatever it took to make her happy. But then it happened…after a year and a half of trying, she got pregnant.” His face lights up but the sadness in his eyes doesn’t let go of him.
“We weren’t trying anymore by this time, it just happened. I was ecstatic, we both were, but then she got a call. She had received an offer for this amazing job assignment. It’d be a lot of travel, going to Africa, the Middle East, Europe…and she couldn’t do that with a baby.” He sits down across from me, his hands folded together.
“She turned it down of course, that there would be other opportunities. This was the child we had been praying for, trying for almost two years to have.” His body almost shrinks as he goes on.
“A few weeks later, she miscarried.” He says this quietly.
“We were devastated, our families too. She was twelve weeks and we were one appointment away from finding out what we were having.” A tear comes to his eye.
“She was able to take the job though and I thought it was a sign for me to do something different. We had a ton of money saved. We decided I’d go with her and travel with her and discover my passion, so we sold the house, left, and it was great.” His face lights up but darkens again. “About six months later, she had a falling out with her best friend. I still don’t even really know what it was about but it was bad. They’d been friends for years and I guess they said some crazy stuff to each other she was a mess after their fallout.” He lets out a deep breath.
“I remember holding her and my phone rings. I let it go to voicemail but it kept ringing and vibrating and when I finally checked it there were all these calls from the best friend, and then a text from her.”
He goes quiet and tears slip from his eyes.
“It said that Holly’s a lying bitch. She didn’t miscarry your baby, she got an abortion.”
My heart falls in my stomach.
“I showed it to her. She denied it and she was furious of course, and I was to because who lies about shit like that? I tried to let it go but I couldn’t understand why her best friend would lie about something like that. Out of all the things to make up, why that? This was her matron of honor at our wedding…I couldn’t let it go. I finally asked my sister if she knew anything about it. They had been friends since high school, and she told me it was. That she didn’t want to hurt me…” His voice trails off full of pain, and anger.
“My wife killed our baby for a job. She made me believe that she miscarried. I mourned with her.” He’s in tears and I can’t help but go over to him, take him in my arms, and tell him how sorry I am. I’ve never seen him like this and the sorrow rocking through him breaks my heart.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, it still hurts to think about. I’m so sorry baby,” he says through tears. We hold each other the rest of the night and apologize for our broken pieces, our histories that make things so much harder.
“I love you so much Madison. I will never hide anything from you again,” he tells me in my borrowed bed as I’m wrapped in his arms, his strength back. His eyes finding light again and there’s a little bit of joy in them now, but now I understand that sadness that I recognized in him. Why he had it and understood me.
Two different stories but the same pain and loss. I vow right now I’ll do whatever I need to so that both of us can get our happy ending.
Eighteen
I stare at the information on the paper in my hand. It’s an address, an address to Robert James, my father. He lives only an hour away from Melissa, thirty minutes from where I used to live with Ryan. He’s remarried with two seventeen-year-olds, a boy and a girl. I stare at the pictures of them the PI provided. My sister has the same striking blue eyes I have. My dad is still as recognizable as he was when he was my favorite person in the world, just older with lines across his face. Alex gave m
e the packet a week ago and I just opened it today after staring at it, wondering if I should open Pandora’s box.
Alex is working on building relationships. Specifically the one with his sister Tiffany who was Holly’s best friend, they hadn’t talked in about two years.
Her defense was that she didn’t find out until after it happened and she didn’t want to make him unhappy. I try not to judge that response; I’ve never been in a situation where I was caught between a family member and a friend, and having to decide whether to destroy a person’s present over a past mistake. And until last week I never even had a brother to understand how the dynamics of a relationship like that works. I try to push those thoughts out of my head as we pull up to her house…well, more like an estate. I look over at Alex who looks almost unphased as we pull up to the gated entry. He states his name and we pull in.
“You didn’t say your sister is loaded,” I laugh.
Alex only grins. He doesn’t seem to care about money and status but somehow even with her middle-class parents she still grew up with a thirst for the upscale life. He still isn’t shocked when the gorgeous mansion comes into view but he does seem to be when we see the numerous cars—all luxury vehicles—aligning the house
“Alex, are you sure this is a barbeque. This looks like a party, one that we aren’t dressed for.” I exclaim nervously. I look down at my low cut t-shirt and jean shorts, and Alex’s crew neck and cargo shorts. He frowns, pulls out his phone, and calls her. I get out of the car and laugh. Not only is this a party but one we are severely underdressed for, as I’m looking at women in elegant summer dresses. He shakes his head.
“Do you want to go?” he asks. I give him a half smile.
“There’ll probably be some good top shelf liquor,” I quip with a smile while looking around. He laughs and swings his arm around me. We walk through the house, looking entirely out of place, but at least with each other.
Firsts: Book One’s Page 36
