Chapter 23
Lydia
ONE SECOND COLE is calling me Lyddie, and I’m wondering if I can convince him to play hooky from work so he can come home and spend the afternoon kissing me, and the next Ashley Allen is walking in, her presence hitting me like a cold bucket of water dumped over the head. Except instead of making me feel awake, I feel very, very tired. And I don’t think this is just because I’m pretty sure I got the chicken salad with the Unisom in it. No, it’s because seeing her here is a blatant reminder that these intimate moments Cole and I have been having lately are just a mirage. I’m fighting against her for his affections, just like I was all those years ago during that game of spin the bottle.
With alarming force, I realize that all of the juvenile pranks I’ve been playing on Cole have been in an effort to keep my heart from becoming his, but it’s too late. It’s already his. Has always been his, really.
Goodness. I’m in so much trouble.
“Oh.” Ashley spots me, and I’m slightly gratified to see a flicker of annoyance crease her features. At the wedding–sweaty and pale from having just thrown up–I wasn’t a threat, but here, all put together, apparently I am. It’s a little laughable really, considering that she’s gorgeous, and I’m about to be the size of a baby elephant. “I didn’t realize that you had a client here. I’ll come back later.” She makes no move to go though, clearly fishing for answers about who I am.
“Lydia isn’t a client.” Cole smiles at her. “Remember, she’s Josh’s sister? You met her at the wedding.”
“Oh.” All the tension eases out of Ashley’s shoulders. She must remember what I looked like post-vomiting. The death warmed over look is not one of my better ones. “Of course. Lydia.” Ashley offers her hand to me and I take it. I expected the hand of a seductress to be cold, but her grip is warm and soft as velvet. She clearly knows her way around a lotion bottle.
“Hi, it’s Amber, right?” I paste on a phony smile, that turns genuine when I see another flicker of irritation cross her face.
“Actually, it’s Ashley,” she corrects, her smile frozen in place. “So,” she presses on, “are you up here for a visit?”
“No,” I start to answer, but Cole interrupts.
“Lydia lives in Holland too, Ashley.” I wait for him to add, with me actually, because she’s my wife, but he doesn’t.
“Oh,” the word escapes her an octave higher than normal. “And you two are...friends?”
I would burst out the truth and maybe kiss him on the lips like he did in front of Elliot, but the fact that he’s not ready to claim me as his wife in front of her hurts. Causing both of them a moment of discomfort wouldn’t change that. Plus, the Unisom is really settling in now, and I just want to lay my head down and go to sleep. I blink hard, willing my body to stay alert.
“Lydia,” Cole doesn’t answer her question, his attention on me now, “you okay? Maybe you should go home and rest.” I swivel my head to look at him, which is hard work considering how very heavy my head has become. I’m awake enough to see the look of victory on his face though, and I scowl at him. Well, I try to, anyway. A yawn interrupts my attempt.
“Yes,” I say in defeat, “I think you’re probably right.” I stand on shaky legs, suddenly desperate to get out of there. “Enjoy the rest of the food.” I glance at Ashley. “Nice to see you again,” I lie.
“Lydia,” Cole stops me, “you can’t drive yourself home right now. I’ll take you.”
“Cole,” Ashley speaks up, “we have a meeting with Saul in fifteen minutes.” A meeting? Wait, does Ashley work with Cole? That’s not fair! I want to wail. He spends all his time here. That gives you the advantage, even though I’m the one married to him. The one having his babies. Thankfully, even in my tired state I refrain from saying any of this.
“Right.” Cole pauses. “Well, you’ll have to give him my apologies. I’ll get back as fast as I can.”
“Cole,” Ashley frowns, “why can’t she drive herself; what is she drunk?” She peers at me in disgust.
“I am not dr–” I begin, but another yawn cuts me off.
“She’s not drunk,” Cole finishes for me, “just tired. It wouldn’t be safe for her to drive like this.” I’m grateful he leaves out the part where I’m tired because I accidentally gave myself the sleeping pill that I’d intended to trick him into taking. Good Lord, I can’t believe I did that. What was I thinking? I need a filter to run my battle plans through from now on. Like how a general has a lieutenant.
“Can’t you get her an Uber or something?” Ashley suggests.
Oh no, not an Uber. Panic rises inside me. I start to speak, but Cole gets there first.
“Ashley, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to put a tired woman in an Uber all by herself. It’s not safe. I’m driving her, and that’s final. I’m sure you can handle Saul until I get back.”
Without another word he takes me by the arm and guides me out. There’s a big part of me that is touched by his words, that wonders if he remembers my story about the Uber driver taking me to a cornfield. But there’s another, even bigger part of me, that notices how he still never told her that I’m his wife.
***
I wake up hours later to darkness. As my eyes adjust, I realize I’m tucked into my bed. Embarrassment floods me as the memory of what happened at lunch returns. I don’t remember much of what happened after Cole took me to his car. I think I fell asleep on the drive home, which means...did he carry me in? The thought both thrills and mortifies me.
Then my mind settles over the more unpleasant details of that lunch. Finding out that Ashley works with Cole. Worse, Cole hasn’t told her we’re married. What kind of game is he playing? She’s going to have to find out sooner or later, so why the delay?
Groggily I get out of bed and make my way to the kitchen. It’s dark outside, but there’s no sign of Cole. He must still be at work. With her. I shudder involuntarily. Oh well. What do I care? Maybe I should just be happy with the fact that he’s not angry at me for attempting to drug him. I cringe.
Hungry I poke around in the fridge, retrieving some leftover pasta. I only take a few bites before my stomach roils, and I have to rush to the bathroom.
When I finish being sick, I stand shakily and study my reflection. I look young and weak. Even if Cole were a devoted husband, I wouldn’t be sure I could handle birthing then mothering two babies. Closing my eyes, I search for some words to say to break down the barrier I’ve been constructing between myself and God ever since that fateful night, but none come, and the ensuing silence highlights how very alone I have become.