Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Someone get me a fucking resuscitator because I was pretty sure I was on the verge of death. The word “wife” played in my head on repeat the entire hour that I stood in front of Luke’s house.
His wife— oh wait, let me rephrase that—his pregnant wife left as soon as she dropped that world-class bomb on me. I continued to stand in the same exact spot on his sidewalk, even after JoJo’s car pulled up. I didn’t move. She walked over to me slowly, calling my name, but I stayed put.
“Seriously, Cammie. What’s going on?” JoJo’s voice was filled with concern, her eyes searching my body and face several times before she snapped her fingers in front of my eyes.
I finally looked up at her and choked “He’s married.”
Her dark eyebrows folded inward. “What?”
“Luke. He’s married.” My words came out short and blunt. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.
She said nothing, and neither did I. I very well could have been in shock.
JoJo pulled me back into my house and sat me on the couch.
I heard her walk to the kitchen and then the bottle of wine being opened and poured into a glass.
As soon as she slid it in front of me, I grabbed the glass stem in a vice grip and downed the entire thing.
I didn’t even get to taste the fruity flavor before it landed in my stomach.
I waited a second before putting the glass on my coffee table, filling the room with a shaky clank. I stood up abruptly and walked into the kitchen, swiping the entire bottle off my counter. When I sat back down on the couch, I turned toward JoJo and finally dropped everything on her.
I didn’t cry, but I wanted to. I wanted to cry so badly.
“So, wait. How far along do you think she was?” JoJo sat on the floor below me. Her back was straight, and her legs were crossed beneath her.
I looked away, glancing out the window again to the dreary, gray skies, unable to control the image of Ash flooding my brain.
“At least eight months, but I’m thinking nine months.
Unless it’s twins. Oh my God.” I felt sick to my stomach.
I wanted to throw up or throw something. Maybe do both at the same time.
“There’s no way it could be his, even if it was twins.”
I stood up, pacing the room. “How could it not be his?! She’s his wife!”
“She could be lying, too. Calm down.”
I yelled, “I can’t! This is why this was an awful idea. I barely know him!”
And to think that I love him…
“Listen, sit down.” JoJo stood up and put her arms on my shoulders, edging me back to the couch.
I was pacing so fast that I was literally out of breath.
Or it could have just been the fact that I was totally out of shape.
I’d stopped running once it had gotten cold out.
I know, I was a wuss who hated cold weather.
Why do you think I lived in a state that barely got cold?
“It’s not his baby. He was deployed for eight months before coming here.” I bounced my head up and down in agreement. “Then, he was here for…what? Two months?” I nodded again, trying to do the math.
I piped up, “That would mean…if he slept with her when he got back, she would only be five-ish months. Even with twins, she couldn’t be that big.”
JoJo bobbed her head up and down. “Right. So, stop thinking the worst.”
My chest started to rise and fall faster as I shouted, “What if it’s triplets?!”
“Cammie! Stop.” JoJo’s loudness made my attention whip to her warm gaze.
Tears started to threaten my eyes. “He’s married, Jo.”
My heart felt sad. I felt sad. Everything felt sad. Was this how Eeyore felt all the time? God, that poor, depressed donkey.
My voice broke, “I know, rationally, it’s probably not his baby. But that doesn’t change the severity of this situation… He’s married .”
JoJo grabbed my hand and pulled me into a hug. She didn’t let go, and that was when I finally let the tears fall.
I knew I’d been playing with fire. I just hadn’t realized I was playing with a whole goddamn wildfire.
Luke didn’t email that night or the following day.
I bounced ideas back and forth over what I should do.
He was there. I was here. Several thousand miles were in between us.
Do I confront him in an email? The military daughter and sister in me knew that would be a low blow.
It would have been like sending a Dear John letter to someone.
It was ruthless and downright dirty, but…
He lied.
He was married.
He’d kind of brought it on himself.
I did something I knew I shouldn’t have, but I did it anyway. I tiptoed into my kitchen and grabbed another bottle of wine, courtesy of JoJo wiping out the entire stock this afternoon at our small grocery store, and flipped the lid of my laptop up.
Once I pulled up my inbox, my heart cracked a little more in my chest. I clenched my molars together, opening the picture of Luke smiling at me in front of that same cave my brother had stood in front of. How could he be so sweet and then this happens?
I shook my head, preparing myself for a long, tiring night. Isn’t that what we did, as humans, when we were heartbroken? We just dug ourselves into a deeper hole of hurt in the midst of reminiscing about every little thing that made us happy before the supposed “love of our lives” fucked us over?
Yep.
And that was exactly what I was going to do. I was going to make sure to spend extra long on my favorite emails from him, mourning our short little love story that apparently did not get to have a very happy ending.