Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
Alex
Jess is a cancer.
I love you, Alex.
She’s not a parasite like I thought she used to be. No, she’s a disease. That infects you. She ruins you. She consumes you from the inside out. You have to cut out the disease so that you have a chance at living. You sacrifice the limb to save the body.
Well, I’m the one diseased.
And that’s what I’ve done. For me and for her.
I love you, Alex.
She said stay away, but I can’t.
So I gave myself a reason to. It came in the form of a gold band now circling my ring finger. I broke our contract so Jess can finally be free. She can take her trust, and her and Eden can live comfortably.
And Emma is nice. I can learn to care for her. I can make her happy. Money make s most people happy. And I’ll stay away from Jess because I’m married.
And if the wedding band wasn’t a deterrent, how badly this hurts her is going to be.
I love you, Alex.
She’ll hate me now. Good .
I need her to. I need her to know that we are dead in the water, and now she can be happy with someone else because she was right. I’m never gonna get over it. So I need her to get over me.
She’s not going to be happy like we could be, no one could. But happy enough. Happier than me.
Men like me only get the amount of happiness they think they deserve. And I’d imagine I don't deserve shit.
“So, that was your sister?” The woman sitting in the passenger seat asks me quietly.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“The one you were talking to? Or the one with short brown hair?” She saw Jess, so Jess must have seen her. Mission complete.
“The one I was talking to. The one with short brown hair is just some random friend that works for my sister.” Random person, one I no longer know. Believe that.
I love you, Alex.
It’s hard to believe when all I hear on repeat is those four little words exiting her mouth.
“Oh, cool,” Emma says politely. “Where are we headed now?”
“Home.” The home I built for the only person I’ve ever loved.
Jess
“Hey stranger!” Tommy shouts from across the small airport. Lord, girl, give me strength. I give a brief smile and head towards the two men pulling bags off the carousel.
“Hi there.” I clear my throat for fortification when my voice cracks.
Tommy lets Jamie finish loading the luggage cart and scoops me up into a hug I’m not entirely sure I would otherwise consent to.
“I’ve missed you,” he says against the side of my head. I just nod. I haven’t missed him. I’ve missed the idea of him, but I won’t be saying that to his face, so I just stay quiet.
“Where’s my girl?” Tommy asks as he sets my feet back on the ground.
“Napping. She’s with Brit and the girls right now.” He nods, looking me over. No doubt noticing that things are… off for me.
“You look…different.” (That’s code for: you look like shit.) I smooth down my shortened locks, and realize he’s probably looking more at my hideous attempt at holiday cheer that’s come in the form of an overpriced, thrifted sweater. I want so badly to say, “Thanks! This is what being poor looks like!” But that would just be the bitter bitch in me talking and not the moderate bitch who's still interested in retaining custody.
“Ahh, yeah,” I laugh insincerely, “this old thing.” I dust invisible lint off Rudolph’s pom-pom nose.
“I wasn’t talking about what you’re wearing,” Tommy’s voice is a bit subdued . He pauses, then whispers, “Are you okay?” Swallow lump. Will not cry now.
Fake smile on. “Sure. Let’s, um, talk in the car, though. Solid hour drive ahead of us.” I even pat Tommy on the shoulder, like he’s my chum. Fake fake fake. I give a perfunctory head nod to Jamie that he returns and we walk to the car in utter silence.
Thank god for the California sun giving me a reason to wear dark sunglasses three days before Christmas. They’re like my armor, hiding all the weak, under-protected bits about me right now. So with my Karen Walker sunnies firmly in place, and both men buckled up, I rip off the bandaid.
“Alex and I aren’t together anymore.” I can practically feel the smugness rolling off of Jamie. I look in the rearview expecting to see his shit-eating smile, but instead I get a look of genuine sadness in return. No. No. Not the pity. Fuck. That’s worse, so much worse than a shit-eating grin.
Neither of them say anything in response, so if we’re going to play it like that, I keep going. “I’m staying with Brit and, umm, you guys can have the garage apartment while you’re in town. Promise it’s nice. And, umm, why don’t you guys tell me about Taiwan? Enough about me!”
“I’m sorry, Jess.” It comes from Jamie and not Tommy. Again a surprise, but it pisses me off.
“Don’t pity me, Jamie. Today’s not the day.” I don’t say it as rudely as I really want to. I try to just say it honestly.
“It’s not pity, it’s empathy, Jess.” His voice is soft and quiet. Yeah, alright.
“Okay.” I stare straight ahead at the road.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jamie persists. I look at Tommy who’s looking ashen all of a sudden .
“Not particularly, but I’ll give you the details so you don’t have to ask. He married someone else. Went to Vegas, got wasted, did the deed because he really wanted to prove a point that we were done. And so we are. The end.”
“When?” Again, it’s Jamie.
“Well, I found out this morning.” Fake smile? On . No tears? Check . Cruising down freeway with the weight of the world on my shoulders? Yup .
“Pull over.” Tommy looks like he might be sick. So I do, quickly sending gravel flying out behind us.
He lurches out of the car, emptying his stomach. This is shaping up to be the best day of my life. Lucky me.
I pull out some napkins from the center console and give him my bottle of water.
“The rest of the drive isn’t any less winding. Do you need to drive?” I ask Tommy.
“I’m not car sick.” Okay…
“Listen, I, uhh. You’re, umm…” What the fuck? Tommy is stammering and rubbing his palms across his thighs. “You’re going to get served divorce papers today.” Lovely .
I don’t say anything. I just wait for him to get buckled and continue the drive to Spearhead. It takes a half hour before he says something else.
“I didn’t know about Alex…and everything.” Like some sort of excuse. Like he wasn’t trying to embarrass me in front of everyone here. Like this isn’t three days before Christmas.
“It’s fine,” is all I say back, and Tommy squirms.
When the doorbell rings at 4:45 P.M., I know what it is. So I answer the door to a middle-aged man holding a manilla envelope. Right .
Brit is right behind me, though, so when I turn around, she just takes the envelope from my hands and throws her arms around me. I’m not sad about divorcing Tommy, I’m just sad at the state of my life. The hits just keep coming. What more can I take, really?
“I’m okay,” I pat Brit on the back and say.
“You don’t have to be.”
“Sure, but I am. And I’m tired. There’s no fight left in me.” It’s the truth.
“Okay.” She releases me and entwines her hand with mine, leading me into their great room where her family is assembled like some odd Brady Bunch. She’s happy. I want to be happy for her, but right now, if I let myself feel anything, it’ll likely be rage. And nobody needs that today.
I settle into a singular club chair by the roaring fire and pretend to read a book on my phone while the dads dote on Eden and the rest of Britain’s family organizes into teams for Catchphrase while Carly cooks dinner. A margarita finds itself into my hand via my best friend and I give her a warm smile.
If I can just get through Christmas, things will be fine. Things will be better.
As it turns out, all you need for things to feel better is six shots of tequila.
“I’m fine!” I shout over the loud music. “Never been better!!” Warm hands e ncircle my waist and pull me off the tabletop.
“Alright, peaches, you’re coming home with me,” Sandy says, then turns to give instructions to the hunk who pulled me off the table. Her twangy southern accent could cure homesickness and insomnia both.
“I love sleepovers! Do you want to have a sleepover, too?” I ask the rock hard chest attached to the warm hands carrying me through the door of Colton’s.
“Not tonight, buttercup,” he says. Ha. Buttercup.
“You’re so strong.” I rub his warm, hard pecs feeling like he could fling me around like a rag doll if he wanted and in response he tightens his grip around my legs.
I hiccup. “Okay, well let’s do a sleepover some other time, mmkay?” I give him a “Boop” on the nose and shut my eyes while I travel weightlessly into a pre-warmed vehicle.
Oh no. Oh no no no.
I rush into the kitchen to find Jim rolling up cinnamon rolls and Sandy fussing with the dishwasher. “Why did you let me get on the table?!” I screech.
Sandy starts laughing hysterically. “God himself couldn’t keep you off them.” My brain bounces off my skull painfully.
“Rick should really be worried about losing his liquor license. I was overserved.” I massage my temples, trying to ease the vice-like pain.
“You were already like that when you showed up with the Scala boys, honey.” Ugh . The spins. I have to sit down on a stool .
I vaguely recall driving with three very attractive men to the bar under the guise of wanting to dance. What I actually wanted was to get fucked into oblivion. What I wanted was to forget.
What I got was embarrassing memories and a hangover.
“Ughhh.” I groan and lay my face against the cool marble counter. “I shouldn’t have done that.” I moan and Jim chuckles, just continuing to roll up pastries with my head laid right beside his workspace.
“Honey,” Sandy rubs my back. “When's the last time you took a break?” A break? What’s that?
“No clue.” I finally open my eyes when the sound of glasses scraping against the counter wakes me up.
“Drink all three, eat the potatoes,” Jim sets down a plate of eggs and home fries in front of me, “and then you and I are gonna have a chat,” Sandy says firmly. I look at the cup of coffee, glass of water, and the bloody mary and my stomach rolls.
I don’t protest, though. I just say, “Yes, ma’am.” It’s the only appropriate response to the queen. When I start lagging during the eating process, Sandy urges me.
“Damian is gonna be here to pick you up in an hour, so unless you start talking now…”
“Damian?” I ask, confused.
She laughs. “Oh honey, you really don’t remember?” Oh god.
“No?”
“You don’t remember him showing up and pulling you off the tables?”
“Oh gawd, that was Damian?”
“The devil himself.” Great .
Thanks to a quick shower, and the generosity of Sandy, I no longer smell like the booze sweats. I toss Rudolph into the trash can in the guest bathroom, but on second thought…I pick the sweater back up. This thing deserves to be burned.
After a torturous debriefing of the previous night's events, I couldn’t function without cleansing away some of my sins. Which included yelling at Rick for giving me shots of water, dancing on the bar, dancing on the table s (plural), dancing on the barstools, and losing my wallet and phone somewhere in the process. Oh, and I most likely made a pass at my friend.
The perfect end to the perfect day.
“Hey,” Damian knocks on the doorway to the guest suite.
“Hey,” I say back, then walk out of the bathroom and take a seat on the bed. He comes and sits next to me and my cheeks bloom with heat because I owe him one embarrassing apology.
“I’m sorry about last night.” I drop my head to his shoulder to hide my shame.
“What do you have to be sorry about?” he asks.
“Well, for making a drunken pass at you.” He chuckles.
“Was the highlight of my year,” he says softly, then takes my hand in his.
“Why am I at Sandy’s anyways?” I sort of sit up, asking the question that obviously should have happened sooner.
“Thought you could use a break from the circus.” Ahh yes, the dads were on Eden duty last night.
“We’re messes again, aren’t we?” I ask him and he nods.
“Yup.”
“I think I’m finally messier than you… ”
“Well, not so fast here. I’m the one who got dumped by their fiancé a month before the wedding.”
“Oh yeah, well my fiancé married someone else.”
“He what?” Damian pulls away from me, shocked.
“Brit didn’t tell you?”
“No, I haven’t even seen her yet…I’m really sorry, Jess.”
I shrug. “It’s not like it was real. He was just doing it to help me win custody of Eden.” Damian looks like he just found out Santa isn’t real. “But listen,” I put my head back on his shoulder because the full weight of my head on my body hurts. “I don’t want to argue over whose dick is bigger here.” It’s his. Damian has a big dick. Eww, stop. Should not be thinking about his dick.
I stand up hurriedly at the intrusive thought, but Damian grabs my hand and pulls me back to sitting.
“It wasn’t real?” he asks, disbelief still written all over him.
“Nope. I mean maybe it was at some point, but it’s certainly not now.”
“Huh,” he says, staring at me intently. My face flames and I’m not sure if it’s from the hangover or the discomfort growing in the bottom of my stomach. (Which could also be the hangover.)
“I’m too hungover to chat. Can you take me home?” Home . Hate that word.
“Yeah, let’s go,” he says, but he doesn’t release my hand or make any move to stand.
“Do you ever wonder…” I see him visibly swallow. The answer is yes, but I can’t do this right now.
“Wonder what?” I ask, playing dumb .
He gives me that one-dimpled half smile and says, “Never mind, buttercup.” And I laugh then wince.
“Oh no, none of that.” My hand holds my forehead. “No laughing or I might puke.”
“Well, if you do, aim for the sweater.” He picks Rudolph up off the bed.
“I’m gonna burn that thing.”
“Really? I was thinking about framing it.”
“So you can memorialize the worst day of my life?”
“Your worst, my best.” Huh?
“What?” I ask because I didn’t hear him.
“Nothing,” a single dimple pops. “Are we heading straight home or do you need a little more time?”
I hesitate because the way he says home makes me feel funny. Hate that word. “Back to Brit’s,” is what I settle on, but that feels weird, too. Huh .
“How do you do it?” I ask Damian who’s sitting on the couch beside me.
“How do I do what?” he asks.
“How do you be around someone you love? How do you watch that person move on and be happy and be fine with it?” I’m not even around Alex, and I can barely stomach the thought. Christmas at Britain’s house has been challenging. And even though Alex didn’t show for family dinner, thank god, Caleb did. And somehow that was worse. If Caleb’s here, Alex is probably still there, too. Just a half mile away sitting in his dream house with his wife.
“Well…” he stares at the ceiling, “The truth is I haven’t really been happy or fine with it. But I’ve gotten good at pretending.”
“Not there yet.”
“You’ll get there,” he says and I take another sip. The ice cubes clink against the glass and I listen to the squeals of Eden as Jamie blows raspberries on her belly. I listen to Carly scolding Luna for eating food off the table. I listen to the chatter of the family that surrounds my best friend. There’s grandparents and kids, big kids and little, and there’s laughing, and Christmas music is playing softly in the background.
“I just always wanted this.” It comes out without my consent.
Damian silently wipes a tear off my face. “And you’ll have it, someday.” He places a soft kiss on my cheek and as he leans away, he says, “Merry Christmas, Jess.” And then he leaves, and I’m once again all alone. But now it’s also Christmas. Perfect .
I don’t leave my spot for the rest of the night, not until it’s time for Eden to go to bed and Tommy and I take her to the apartment for the nighttime routine.
“It’s nice having you guys around…” Tommy practically beams under my praise. “To help with Eden. She needs you guys.” I’m not sure that’s how he anticipated that going.
“I’m back in two months, and…”
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “And…?”
“And I don’t know how to say this without offending you, but I wish you’d move back to the house.”
“I can’t.”
“No, I know you can’t…like that. But you know, for Eden to have both parents around all the time? Listen, I want to be present, and I want you to be present. I don’t want either of us missing out on anything . I mean, fuck! She can say three words and I had no idea.”
“Fuck,” Eden mimics and we both start laughing.
“Four words, actually,” I laugh out.
“Right, but would you consider it?” As much as I detest the idea, Eden deserves what I never had. I know that. She deserves the big family, the happy household. She deserves to have a dog racing around under foot and to not worry about if she left her favorite sweatshirt at mom’s or dad’s this week. And maybe I want that for her, too…
“Okay, yeah…I think for Eden, it’s the right thing to do,” I say softly, but with a certain resolve.
“Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?”
I splash him with the bath water. “No…but I never fully hated you to be honest. I just hate not being number one. That’s all. Fuck, I don’t even hate Jamie.” And that’s the truth. He’s been a fucking saint since that day in the car. Or maybe he’s been like this all along, but I wanted him to be the bad guy in my story, so all his actions and intentions had that filter imposed on it.
“Fuck,” Eden mimics me again, splashing her hands down into the soapy water. Fuck , need to stop saying it. This time Tommy and I both crack up under our breath so as not to encourage the little gremlin.
“You two are a bad influence,” Jamie says from where he’s now standing in the hallway.
“Alright, I’m done. You wrangle her to bed.” I stand up and dry off my hands, but lean forward to give Eden a kiss goodnight.
As I leave to head back to Brit’s where I’ve been sleeping in the basement, Jamie stops me .
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I say back.
“Thank you.”
I just nod. I’m doing this for Eden. “Merry Christmas, Jamie.”
He gives me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek and I set off to go tell my best friend I’m moving, for real this time.