His Other Life

Chapter 31

THIRTY-ONE

GEMMA

September, two and a half years ago

Gemma had always considered herself a patient person. Growing up, she and her mom had lived hand to mouth for many years after leaving her dad, with her mom often working multiple jobs, so Gemma had grown used to waiting. Waiting for her mom to come home. Waiting for money saved up so she could get that pair of jeans she wanted. Waiting to be picked up from soccer and theater rehearsals. Waiting for bureaucracy to work itself out so they could get subsidized housing. Waiting to be old enough to make her own decisions.

To her credit, her mom had kept the cogs of their lives moving steadily until she passed, which did result in a predictable, forward motion. But with rusted gears, progress was often slow, and for a long time, that was all Gemma had known. Consequently, she’d honed the trait of patience, and many times in her life, it had served her well.

But with Jonah she’d come undone.

This stupid pandemic , she thought as she moved laundry from the washer to the drier, flinging wet socks around her in her haste to be done. Not that she had more pressing things to do. It was Saturday and she had no plans. Again.

His stupid company.

She’d known when she’d left his bed in July that it might be a while before he could come back, but two months?

At first, she’d been fine. They’d texted and spoken on the phone when they could, and in late July, his wife had left to go on vacation to Eastern Washington with friends for a week, so they’d been able to do video calls too. Gemma had toyed with the idea of driving up there, but in the end, she hadn’t even brought it up for fear of seeming clingy. This was hard for him. She could tell. And she hadn’t wanted to make it worse.

It was a small consolation that Jonah expressed similar frustration about being stuck at home.

“We barely talk,” he’d said last night, referring to his wife. “We coexist and each day is the same. Like Groundhog Day. It’s no one’s fault, but it doesn’t feel like living. I’m losing my mind.”

His confession hadn’t landed as softly inside Gemma as she might have expected—almost like she’d been told a secret she had no business knowing about an old friend she’d once cared about. She’d opened the window and let the evening soothe the odd sensation, reminding herself relationships were messy and no one was perfect. Then she’d told him what she’d do to mix things up when she saw him again, and when they’d hung up, she’d had to take an extra-long, cold shower.

Not that it had helped. She was still pent up and distracted as she punched the buttons to turn on the drier. She swore under her breath when she closed the folding door to the closet that held the laundry machines in their bathroom.

“Got any plans tonight?” Cheryl asked from the couch in the living room.

“Does anyone have plans anymore?” Gemma snapped.

“Well, I’m meeting up with Cindy and Barb from work. We’re doing driveway happy hour at Barb’s house since it’s nice out. Bring your own lawn chair—that sort of thing.”

“Good for you,” Gemma muttered.

Cheryl stared at her from across the room. “Did something crawl up your behind today?”

“No.” Gemma opened the fridge and considered her options. Still water or sparkling water. When she closed the door again, her aunt was right there on the other side. “Ah!” Gemma jumped.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Cheryl leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “What about the apps?” she asked.

Gemma opened her seltzer. “Apps?”

“For dating.”

“Cher, come on.” Gemma rounded the peninsula and continued into the living room.

Her aunt followed. “No, I will not ‘come on.’ You’re twenty-seven, you have a good job, you’re beautiful, and kind, and smart. You’re a catch.”

Despite her mood, there was a slight thawing inside Gemma at her aunt’s praise.

“So why the hell are you wasting yourself on a married man? Nothing good can come of this.”

The thaw froze again, and Gemma suppressed a growl as she spun around in front of the balcony door. “You don’t know that. And you don’t know Jonah.”

“Once a cheater, always a cheater.” Cheryl sat back down in her spot.

“No.” It wasn’t like that. The feelings were real. But how could she get her aunt to understand?

Gemma scanned the room, landing on a studio portrait of her and her mother from when she was about five that she’d snuck in between Cheryl’s wedding portrait and a picture of Cheryl, Herb, and the dog they’d had when Gemma was little. “So no matter if it’s the wrong match, you think people should stay with their partner then? Seems hypocritical when you’ve said you think my mom should have left my dad sooner.”

Cheryl sighed. “Of course not. But there’s a right way to go about it and a wrong way. And this isn’t right.” She paused briefly. “Which you know.”

Gemma did. But she was pretty good at not thinking about it most of the time, and it helped that she wasn’t the one committing the transgression. Whatever Jonah’s reasons were, who was she to judge? She wanted him to be happy, and he’d been happy when they were together.

“He’s not going to leave her,” Cheryl mumbled.

Gemma cocked her chin up. “He might.”

“And you’ll get hurt.” Her aunt’s eyes softened with all the affection of a surrogate parent. “You deserve better. But if you can’t see that, I can’t help you.”

That wave of frustration that barely allowed itself to be contained these days washed over Gemma again. “I don’t need your help. I need your support.”

“Of course I support you. But we have different ways of defining what that means right now.”

Gemma threw her hands in the air and stomped off. “I’m going for a walk,” she said.

Cheryl’s voice trailed her out the door. “Enjoy the fresh air.”

Ugh, it was so annoying, this pragmatic, healthy, sociable version of her aunt. Where was the discontented, night-dwelling commiserator when she needed her?

As soon as the thought had crossed her mind, Gemma’s cheeks heated. She wasn’t being fair, and she was happy Cheryl had turned things around in this way. She pulled out her phone and sent her a quick, Sorry .

I know, Gem, was her aunt’s response, which lodged a thick knot in Gemma’s throat.

She walked to the park two blocks away and found a bench to sit on as the afternoon wore on. Jonah had to come soon, she told herself, that unfamiliar impatience bubbling hot through her veins. There would be no other remedy to her state of mind.

I miss you , she texted him.

I miss you more , he texted her the next day.

And then, as if the words had been an incantation, on Monday they finally received the news they’d been waiting for.

She’d got him for three weeks this time.

Jonah’s company had put off training new sales reps for the past six months, but now they had several openings to fill since many people had quit or moved during quarantine. Jonah had volunteered to lead six small in-person training sessions on sales techniques at the regional offices to complement the virtual modules that covered product knowledge.

The first evening he was back, Gemma stood outside the door to his corporate condo, the hallway stretching empty in both directions and the air trembling with suspended anticipation. She smoothed down her hair, adjusted the neckline of her top, closed her eyes for a beat, then knocked.

He opened wearing a navy Henley, gray sweats, and a smile that reflected the same relief coursing through Gemma. She flung herself around his neck, and he held on, kicking the door closed with his foot before he carried her inside.

Because it was a work night, she didn’t stay over, and she went home to sleep the two following nights too, but on the fourth night, when the credits for the movie they’d been watching rolled, he hugged her close on the couch, her back to his chest, and nuzzled into her neck.

“I want you to stay tonight,” he said. “Will you? We can have breakfast together.”

His lips teased the skin beneath her ear, sending fiery tendrils down her arm and back, and making her giggle. She twisted in his arms to look at him. He was wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses that he claimed to only need for movies and the like, but now she lifted them off his nose and raised her chin for a kiss.

He was quick to oblige, his hand finding the sensitive skin in the gap between her jeans and top as he worked her lips.

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” she murmured against him. “But I don’t think we’ll be getting much sleep.”

“Is that so?” He scooted down and helped her turn with a steady grip on her hips so that she came to lie on top of him.

She lifted her head and looked down at him, her arms supporting her on his broad chest. Right then, in that moment, it was just the two of them. No one else between them. How did she get so lucky?

She rolled her hips against his and nodded. “Does that scare you?” she asked.

“Scare me?” He laughed, eyes flashing hot. “I can sleep when I’m old. Bring it on.”

She only went home to get the mail and a change of clothes for the next two weeks. During the days, they both worked of course, but once she was out of her scrubs, she drove through changing autumn foliage not to a quiet room in her aunt’s apartment but to dinners, movies, walks, and delicious nights with a man she was rapidly falling for. Their time was limited, she knew that, but it also didn’t seem to be ending, and that gave her hope. Yes, he’d have to go back to Bellingham this time, but maybe, possibly, some day in the future…

One of Jonah’s last nights there, they lay wrapped in his sheets, her bare leg slung over his, her hand drawing lazy circles across his chest.

“You always smell so good,” he said, bringing a lock of her hair to his nose. “Like apples and vanilla cupcakes.”

She tilted her head up and smiled at him. “I would have thought I’d smell like you right now. In your bed, wrapped in you.” She pulled her arm tighter around him.

“No, I mean it. It’s mouthwatering.” He rolled over onto his side, so they were facing each other.

“You must be hungry,” she said, reaching for his cheek and letting one finger trace the stubble along his jaw.

He closed his eyes, which made her bolder, painting patterns all across his features. He was so beautiful like this. Open, vulnerable, hers.

“Jonah,” she said, her heart thrumming.

“Mm-hmm.” His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t open them.

She bit her lip. “What happens next?”

“Oh, you’ll have to give me a little longer,” he said, a devilish smile tugging at his lips. “I’m still spent.”

Her hand stilled. “No, I mean after you leave.”

His eyes opened, dark wells in the pale moonlight falling through the window. He reached up and covered her hand with his, then brought her fingers to his lips. “Then we’ll talk on the phone again. And I’ll be back at some point.”

She gave a little nod and swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” she whispered. “I think I’m falling?—”

He kissed her, a soft, warm brushing that ended with a gentle tug on her bottom lip. “Don’t say it.”

“Even if it’s true?”

He kissed her again—only a peck this time. A brush of his nose against hers. His breath smelled faintly of the chocolate cheesecake they’d shared earlier. “You know it’s not that simple. No one plans for this kind of thing to happen. And you know I have more than myself to worry about.” He rushed through the last sentence.

Gemma knew she should stop. Take a hint. But Pandora’s box had already been opened. “Do you not have feelings for me?”

“Gemma…” He rolled onto his back and brought one hand to his forehead. Then he tipped his head to face her again. “Of course I do. You’re amazing. More than amazing. I can’t remember the last time I felt this… content.” He found her hand and squeezed it. “And I don’t want talking about it to break the magic. Don’t you see? There’s a lot of stuff I need to… figure out. You know.”

She didn’t know. He hadn’t told her, so how could she? But when he looked at her like this, she knew he was telling the truth. He wanted to be with her. So maybe if she gave him space, he’d come to the right conclusion and leave Isla. Gemma would be able to tell Cheryl “I told you so,” and she and Jonah would live happily ever after.

And Isla? her conscience asked silently. Gemma’s chest tightened, but she forced in a breath. Isla would be better off free, she thought. Their marriage was clearly not good, so maybe Isla was moving on at this very moment, too. Wasn’t that likely even? That Jonah and Isla had “stuff to figure out”? Who knew—if they were on the same page, that probably wouldn’t take very long.

“Yeah, I get it,” Gemma said, snuggling closer.

“Yeah?” He swept the hair off her forehead and brushed his lips across it. “Don’t worry. I’m sure regular travel will start up again soon and you’ll be sick of me, you’ll see me so much.”

“Not possible.” She tugged at his side to pull him on top of her. Maybe he was right and there were better things they could spend their limited time on than talking. “Now”—she scooted her hips to get comfortable beneath his weight—“how’s that stamina of yours? Still spent?”

He dove down to press a string of kisses across her collarbone. “Something tells me you’re about to find out.”