Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LAUREN
“I’m heading out a little early today,” I tell Patrick as I gather my laptop, notebook, and phone at the end of our team meeting.
Lots of people came in late today after last night’s event, but not me.
I was up all night, unable to shut my brain off and go to sleep.
Work this morning was exactly the distraction I needed from my never-ending thoughts about this clusterfuck situation with Josh and Sophia.
“I need to head downtown for an appointment.”
“No problem. I’m not sure how you’re not dead on your feet today,” he says. “You did an awesome job last night.”
“Thank you, but we all came together to make it happen.”
“Yeah, but you led the team on this, and after only being here for like a month. Good work.”
I thank him and say goodbye, then head to my office before I go into Boston to meet Sophia.
I only drank the one margarita last night, because I knew I had two messages to send after my friends left, and I wanted a clear head. I texted Sophia late, and she responded immediately, almost like she’d been waiting for my message. We agreed to meet up for a drink after work today.
I wonder if she found it impossible to sleep last night, worrying about this meeting, like me.
Or was I up because I was worried about fixing things with Jameson?
I pull up my texts with him from last night and read through the messages again as I walk down the long, empty hallway to my office.
Lauren
I’m sorry I overreacted earlier tonight. I was furious about Josh, and I took it out on you.
Jameson
I get it. But please know that I was trying to help. I didn’t want to tell you until after the charity game because I knew how hard you were working to make it perfect, and I wanted to have more information before I said anything. I take it you opened the envelope?
Lauren
Yes, and I heard about your conversation with Sophia. Thank you for all that information. I’m actually meeting her for a drink tomorrow after work.
Jameson
Do you want me to come with you?
Lauren
Thanks, but no. This is something I need to do on my own.
Jameson
I’m here if you need me. Can I see you after you meet with her?
I remember reading that message at least twenty times last night, trying to figure out the subtext.
He’s here for me, but he’s not smothering me.
He wants to be supportive, but only as much as I want him to be.
He wants to see me, hopefully because he wants reassurance about where things stand between us.
I don’t think I’ve wrecked things between us. When he told me he’d wait as long as I needed, I think this was what he meant.
Lauren
Yes. Can I come to your place when I’m done? Morgan will be at my house watching my girls after Tammy leaves.
Jameson
I’ll be here.
I wish I’d said more to him last night. I wish I’d reassured him that everything’s still okay between us, or given him a chance to reassure me. I’ll make sure to make up for that tonight.
But first, I have to go meet the woman who was sleeping with my husband, remodeling a house with him, and probably planning to start a life with him.
I’m throwing my scarf around my neck and slipping a light jacket on, thankful that March has brought warmer temperatures and more sunshine, when there’s a knock against the open door to my office. I look up, and AJ’s standing there in a navy-blue suit that makes her look absolutely fierce.
“You okay?” she asks. There’s real concern in her voice, which has me worried that I’ve screwed something up somehow and she’s been sent to fix it.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“Well, I was stopping by to congratulate you on a job well done last night, but you just looked so sad while you were packing your bag up. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Until the last five minutes, I’ve managed to go most of the day without dwelling on Jameson, or Josh, or Sophia—and apparently the minute I think about the situation, it shows all over my face, which is typical.
It’s one of the things Jameson said he loves about me, and that realization has me tearing up as I think about all the things I love about him, but haven’t told him yet.
“It’s totally not work related.” I laugh through the tears. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Will it help you to talk about it, or make it worse?” she asks.
I huff out a humorless laugh. “I don’t think it can make it worse.”
“Okay,” she says, “so what’s going on?”
“I just found out my husband was cheating on me, and bought the house in Brookline where I currently live to be closer to this woman. They were just starting to remodel it together when he died.”
“Well, shit,” she says, and takes a few steps into my office. “If it helps at all, I’ve been through something similar, so I’m always happy to listen.”
“You have been through something similar?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. I mean, you’re Alessandra Freaking Jones. You’re beautiful and strong and successful—like, the perfect trifecta. A man would have to be an absolute idiot to cheat on you.”
“I think a woman who is beautiful, strong, and successful—like you are, too—can also very easily be seen as a triple threat. And weak men don’t like to be threatened, so they’ll find any way they can to make you feel small.
They’ll prioritize their own needs over yours, they’ll make you feel like wanting things in your relationship means you’re insecure, or like you should be grateful for any scrap of their attention they’ll give you.
And when you aren’t appropriately grateful, when you want more from them—more support, or compassion, or love—they go looking for validation elsewhere. ”
“That . . . sounds all too familiar,” I mumble.
“That’s not about you, Lauren. That’s about him.
Just like my husband’s affair wasn’t about me.
Things were fine between us when we were on more equal footing.
But as I became more successful at work and had to devote more time to my job, when I was less able to cater to his needs like I always had, he didn’t step up, he stepped back. ”
What she’s describing sounds exactly like Josh once we had kids—he resented that they took my time and attention from him.
“Did I hear a rumor that you’re with Jameson now?”
I nod. There’s no reason she can’t know about us.
“Is he supportive?”
“Unbelievably so. Not only supportive of me and my career, but he’s stepped in to help me on too many occasions to count.
” Yet in my head, I am counting them: the will, the house, the renovation, the blizzard, skating, the wedding, Justin, the situation with Sophia.
He has literally never not supported me.
“I think we have this expectation,” she says, “as a society, that men will work as much as it takes to be successful, but women should only work hard enough and be successful enough that it doesn’t inconvenience their partner or their family.
But if you’ve found a man who encourages you, who wants to see you to succeed and shine in every aspect of life, including your career . . . hold on to him. He’s a keeper.”
“I plan to.” I smile. “But first, I have to go meet the other woman.”
“If you need help burying the body, you can call me,” she says, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder.
“I don’t even have your number,” I say with a laugh as I pick my bag up off my chair.
“I know you need to go. I will look your number up in our system right now and text you, so you have it. Good luck.”
“Thank you so much,” I say, appreciating the kindness I see in her eyes. This woman is tough as nails, but supportive too. “I didn’t know I needed this pep talk until I got it.”
“You didn’t need it, but I’m glad it helped anyway.”
I’m just getting in my car when my phone buzzes.
Unknown Number
It’s AJ. Call me if you need anything. And just in case, I have plenty of shovels.
I see her, sitting at the bar, the minute I walk into the restaurant on Newbury Street. She looks just like she does in her pictures on social media: wholesome and cute, total girl-next-door vibes.
Sophia picked the restaurant, and I wish I’d gotten here before her so I could at least have gotten my bearings and picked our seats—anything to feel a modicum of control in this utterly unpredictable situation.
“Hi,” I say as I approach. I don’t stick out my hand in greeting or smile at her—I’m afraid my hand would be shaking and my smile would falter.
“Hi, Lauren.” Her voice is kind, sympathetic even. I’m sure she does feel bad for me—I’m the idiot who didn’t know my husband was sleeping with anyone else while we were still married.
I hang my bag on the hook under the bar and take a seat next to her as I unwind my scarf.
“I appreciate that you’re open to having this conversation,” I tell her, “but now that I’m here, I really don’t know what to say.”
“Maybe I can start?” she asks.
“Please do,” I say, but then the bartender comes up to take my drink order and chats with us as he fills a glass for me. Once he’s handed over my drink, I gesture for Sophia to go ahead.
“I’m sure Jameson told you that I didn’t know you and Josh were still married, but I just want to say how sorry I am that I believed him and didn’t look into it. I really did break things off the minute I realized the truth—”
“Wait, what?”
“I broke things off with him the minute I figured out you two were still together. Jameson didn’t tell you that?”
How do I admit to her that I didn’t give him a chance? That he sent his sisters over instead, and they either didn’t know she broke things off with Josh, or forgot to mention it?
“We haven’t been able to really debrief his conversation with you yet. I don’t think I have all the details.”
“Okay,” she says, then hesitates. “Is it all right if I tell you?”
“Yeah, please do. But keep it, you know, surface-level, please.”
Her laugh comes out almost like a snort, and it’s adorable. I wish she wasn’t so likable.