Chapter Three
It might have been immature to play Miranda Lambert over the speakers at home, but I also might have gotten into my tequila at the bar before work. I think leaving your husband in hopes he appreciates you more calls for shots.
Now I’m preparing for him to walk through that door any second. If I know him, he wallowed for a minute, took a shower and now he’s flying down the road to squeal into the parking lot on two tires.
“Jules! Two beers?” one of my regulars calls out.
“You got it!” Popping the tops off his favorites, I slide them down the bar as I hear the squeal of a man coming into the parking lot on his two tires as predicted.
I peer out the front door of the bar to see Calvin’s black Sanders Hollow Ranch truck flying in.
I groan and point to my bartender, Dakota. “You’re up girl. I’m going to my office.”
At least I don’t need to have a public audience for this confrontation.
Voices grow louder down the hall.
“Dakota, it’s fine. You don’t have to lie for her, I know she’s here.”
“I didn’t say she wasn’t here. I said she’s mad at you and you should go home.” The sass in my bartender’s voice makes me chuckle a little. Her ferocity is why I hired her.
“She’s my wife, I’m going to fix it.”
“Oh really? Because you’re acting like her husband right now instead of a grown child throwing a fit?”
“She left me! I’m not going to sit by while she moves out!”
His boots stomp down the hallway. Fucking boots. My heart used to flutter when he’d call me his wife, when he would tell me how much he loves me and that he’s going to do everything he can to fix things, but that was too many apologies ago.
The door to my office flies open and a frantic Calvin is on the other side.
“Hello, Calvin,” I say flatly.
“Hello, Calvin? That’s what we’re opening with?”
“It’s a standard greeting, I don’t know what you were expecting.”
I swivel in my office chair to face him. I watch as he takes in the space full of suitcases and bags, a bed set up on the couch behind me. His eyes flit between me and all of my things.
“Is this what you want?”
“What I want?” I spit at him. “What I want is for you to be a grown man. My husband. I want a partner in life, not a child to take care of. I want a husband that will listen to me when I tell him I feel unloved and unappreciated. I want him to do the things I’m telling him I need to feel loved. So, no, I don’t want this.”
His mouth falls open, staring at me, speechless. He has nothing to say, because this is the same conversation we’ve had countless times. At least he knows his usual platitudes won’t work this time.
“Are we done here? I have work to do.”
“No, we aren’t done. We are never done.” He pushes past me and starts rolling my suitcases toward the door.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m moving your ass back home. You aren’t leaving. We aren’t done. We’re going to fight about it and then things will be okay like they always are.”
I stand in front of him. Blocking him from leaving. “That’s the fucking problem! Things are going to go back to how they always are. I can’t do that anymore, Cal. I’m not happy.”
My admission makes him drop the handles he’s holding. “You’re not happy?” He questions in a small voice I’ve never heard from my husband before.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “No. I’m not, Cal. And I’m so tired of trying to fix us.”
He steps toward me, reaching out, but dropping his hands instead. “I didn’t know we needed fixin’.”
“I know you didn’t. But I’ve been telling you for years. And that’s the part that needs fixing.” I whisper.
He opens and closes his mouth, but doesn’t say anything before he walks past me and out of my office, closing the door.
My chest is heaving as I look at that closed door. I can feel the panic rising in my body and the tears filling my eyes. I’m frozen to my spot, staring.
I stuck to my boundary. I told him I wasn’t happy. And he left. So why don’t I feel better?
Collapsing down the door, holding my head in my hands, I let the tears fall until I’m ugly sobbing by myself in my office.
A soft knock comes from the other side. “Jules. It’s just me. I just want to check on you.”
“I’m fine.” I sniffle. “I’ll be back out in a minute.”
“Are you sure?”
“Promise. I just… need a few.” I try to make my voice sound steadier than it is, steadier than I feel.
“You get five before I bust open this door.” I listen as her footsteps grow further away.
Standing, I walk into the bathroom off my office. Staring at myself in the mirror, I see the puffy red-rimmed eyes looking back at me.
I can’t stop asking myself how we got here.
How it got this bad. But the truth is, I don’t actually want to leave Calvin.
I love him. He’s been mine since middle school.
We’ve grown up together. And it fucking kills me to be here without him in my corner, because he’s always the one who soothes my hurt.
What am I supposed to do when he’s the one causing it?
Splashing some cold water on my face, I re-do my mascara and head back out to the bar. Thank God it’s the middle of the week and it won’t be too busy.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket.
Hubs: I don’t know what to do.
Me: I’ve told you. A hundred times. I don’t know what else to do.
Hubs: I don’t want this. I want you.
Me: And I want the man I fell in love with.
I watch the three dots appear, then disappear. This happens a few times before they go away completely. Disappointment courses through me, I don’t know why I expected more.
Dakota eyes me as I make my way around the room, greeting the regulars as they finish from the dinner rush.
She walks down to meet me when I come back behind the bar. “I can handle it on my own tonight. Don’t feel like you have to make a point by staying.”
“I do have a point to make. That this was my choice and I’m fine.
It’s a small town. We’ll be the front page gossip tomorrow and I don’t want anyone saying Oh, poor Juliette, Calvin kicked her out and now she’s living in her bar.
This was my choice. I left. I deserve better,” I whisper closely to her ear.
Just because I know it’ll be news tomorrow doesn’t mean I need to be the reporter.
My phone finally vibrates.
Hubs: > I know I’ve messed up. But I’m going to show you that this time is different, I’ll be different. I love you so much, you’re my entire world.
My heart flutters reading the words, but I’m scared it’s just more platitudes he’ll fail to deliver on.
“Jules! I need a new keg.” I shove my phone back in my pocket and run off to help Dakota with the keg.
For a Wednesday night we are busier than usual and I haven’t had a moment to breathe until now, at half an hour before closing.
It’s been nice to shut my brain off and not dwell on the current situation.
But it’s this time of night that I’m usually calling Calvin to say goodnight.
We are ships passing in the night usually and this phone call is the only time I get him to myself.
But lately, he’s been missing them more than he’s been answering them.
The front doors open, and a very agitated man walks through the door with a very large bouquet of flowers. The greenery spraying out of the vase is wider than the man himself.
He stalks toward the bar. “I’ve got a delivery, Juliette Davies.”
“That’s me.” I push myself off the bar, where I was leaning, so he has room to put the flowers down. “Thank you so much.”
He hands me a card without saying anything else and stalks out of the bar.
Ripping open the card, I see a letter from Calvin.
My Love,
I know I’ve lost you, but I promise it’s only temporary. I’m going to win you back. I’ll do everything I can, I’m going to be the perfect husband and partner.
I’ll prove it to you.
Dinner tomorrow? Seven?
I love you
-Cal
Pulling out my phone I see a text from him as well.
Hubs: > I love you. What do ya say?
I scoff at his text. Like flowers and an invitation to dinner is going to fix everything.
Me: > Not ready for dinner yet. Try again.
Hubs: You didn’t call me.
Me: You don’t usually answer.
Hubs: I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve been distracted lately.
Me: You don’t tell me what’s going on anymore.
Hubs: I want to.
Me: Yeah, now. I need more, Cal.
Hubs: Henry’s cancer is back. It’s terminal. I didn’t want to upset you and we didn’t know until tonight that it’s terminal. He and Gretta just came by.
Shit. That’s bad. Gretta can’t run the ranch by herself, and her grandson, Drew Sanders, is playing for the NHL in Houston.
Me: What is going to happen to the ranch?
Hubs: Don’t know. One would think Sanders, but he just signed that multi-year contract with Houston Havoc. So I don’t know if he’d come back to stay.
Me: I’m sorry. That’s going to be hard.
Hubs: I’d love to tell you about it tomorrow. At dinner.
Me: Cal. I’m sorry about Henry and I’ll stop by to see them tomorrow, but what I said stands. I need more from you.
Hubs: Okay. More.
“Damn. Someone is sorry.” Dakota whistles at the bouquet that’s sitting in front of me.
“Guess so. Too bad it’s too little, too late.” I hoist up the large bouquet carrying it off to the office.
Dropping the bouquet on my desk, I stand back looking at it. Full of mixed emotions. Taking in a deep breath, and letting it out slowly.
Maybe I was a little harsh with Cal.
Me: The flowers are gorgeous. Thank you.
Hubs: You’re welcome. I needed to find a bouquet as beautiful as you.
This was a bad idea. The tears well in my eyes again.
I suck in another breath to keep them at bay. Do not cry again, woman.