Chapter 26 Broken Vows #2
IN ONE OF OUR CONVERSATIONS, J and I agreed to do a three-month separation before announcing anything, but most importantly, before telling Bailee. That’s all that really mattered to me. She had already been through so much with us in such a short time.
I didn’t tell J I was moving back to Vegas. I knew he was cheating—I just couldn’t prove it. It was hard to just pack up and leave, but at that point, I felt so unwanted and disrespected, all I could think to do was run.
As I drove down the highway toward Vegas, my cell started blowing up with messages.
I’m sorry sis
Are you ok
Bunnie I’m praying for you
What the fuck was happening? Why are people texting me this all at once? And then it hit me like a punch to the gut. I logged into Instagram and saw a post where J announced our breakup.
Are you fucking kidding me? We had an agreement. After all the confusion, all the arguments, all the heartbreak—that was the last straw for me with J. I vowed never to speak to him again.
I didn’t know why we’d broken up. I knew I was a nightmare to deal with because of all the shit I brought into the relationship, but I knew in my heart I didn’t deserve any of this.
At least a heads-up would have been nice.
I posted the Joker clapping in my story to say You’re a fucking clown. And I left it at that.
I was fucking mad. And when I get mad, I get motivated.
* * *
THE NEON LIGHTS OF VEGAS never looked prettier than after driving for days with two dogs and living in and out of motels and on gas-station food. I was genuinely sick. Lovesick. Heartbroken. It was so bad, I would probably have snorted an eight ball of lidocaine to just numb the pain.
I wanted to forget it all and put it behind me. Folks started DMing on social media telling me that J was with his ex-fling. The pieces started fitting together, and it made it much easier to disconnect from him.
I started looking for houses in Vegas to create my new bachelorette pad, all while making sure to make any twinge of heartache I’d feel turn into hatred.
I had gone completely silent on everything and didn’t attempt to reach out to J or answer any calls.
Word got back to him that I left town. Deep down inside, he didn’t think I’d really go.
So at night when he would drink, he would text me—finally using his real number. I didn’t reply. What was the point? I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t want to cry. So I just ignored him.
He recorded and dropped his album Waylon & Willie 2—have you ever listened to those songs?
Go give it a listen, and you’ll clearly hear a man smack-dab in the middle of an affair, pouring his guilt into lyrics.
Try having to sit side stage while listening to the man you love sing these songs night after night.
To this day, I still hate most of the songs on that album, and I can’t listen all the way through. We’ll get there, though.
But after a few days of me not responding to his drunken nighttime messages, he finally texted something that got my attention.
I’ll tell you everything. I just want my wife and my family back
My ears perked up. I texted him back immediately.
When and where. I wanted to puke.
I’ll come to you, whatever I have to do
We agreed to meet in Vail. It was a place we loved, and it was full of beautiful memories for us.
My nerves were a mess as I stepped off the plane. The drive from the airport was a blur. And when I saw him—I was just so happy. I still loved this man with all my heart, and I just knew no matter what, we would get through it.
We reconnected over the next few days. We laughed, we cried, we talked like the best friends we were.
I asked questions, and he was vague. He actually made up a story about a drug dealer’s daughter he met at a bar, never admitting it was his ex-fling.
So still lying. And I believed him. But he said he was sorry, and that was a start.
* * *
AFTER OUR RECONNECTION IN VAIL, J wanted me back in Nashville, and I wanted to be back there too, with my little family. I immediately started looking for a new house for us—because no way in hell was I going back to the old one.
By the time we were back in Nashville, it was Father’s Day. We headed out to his father, Buddy’s, house.
I absolutely love J’s father. He was so accepting of me the minute he met me—even when others weren’t.
I will cherish that man for as long as I live.
Buddy might have had his flaws raising J, but the man I met left such an impact on me.
Sadly, this was the last Father’s Day that we would spend with Buddy alive, and it tears me up anytime I think about it.
As we walked into Buddy’s house, we said hello and hugged everyone.
J set his phone down on a table and went to the bathroom.
Almost immediately, his phone started blowing up with a random California number.
Who is blowing my husband up? I took a picture of the phone number, walked outside, and called it.
Ring ring ring.
“Bitch. Why the fuck are you calling my phone?” the girl said. I was shocked.
“Who is this? You’re calling my husband.”
Click. The girl hung up.
It all hit me. I was filled with rage and hurt—and every other feeling.
I’d thought we’d reconnected. I thought he’d been honest. You got me back to Nashville and you’re still talking to this girl?
I don’t even know who it is. Trying to contain my pain, I walked into Buddy’s house, trying to hold back tears.
I ran right into J coming out of the bathroom.
“I just talked to the girl who’s been calling your phone,” I said.
He turned white and told me not to do this in front of his family. But how could I not? I tried to pull myself together and stay quiet.
“Who is—” And then it hit me. It was her. The ex-fling was still in the damn picture, even if he’d sworn up and down that they were done.
Everything I’d gone through with him over the past ten months now made sense. It flashed in front of my eyes: the months of arguing, her posts, him denying anything was happening, her hanging out with his best friend’s family—all of the lies.
J was buckling. He told me to hold it together until he could tell his dad goodbye and get Bailee to another family member so we could face it head-on. I was totally dazed, but I finally had proof. I had answers.
From that day on, I didn’t want information from him anymore. He had his chance and he squandered it. So I talked to her.
She sent me videos, screenshots, timelines, and told me everything about their ten-month affair. She told me about how he got a house for them to live in and he wanted her to stay at home and take care of Bailee.
And out of everything, that’s what made me sick. It wasn’t about him fucking this broad—it was about emotionally cheating and then wanting her to play mommy to a little girl I’d fallen in love with. She was my baby.
As mad as I was at the girl, I’m thankful she at least had the balls to tell me her truth—even if J says she embellished.
But honestly, how could I even really trust that when he told me she was a drug dealer’s daughter?
How could I trust his best friends? They were all in on it.
They covered it up. They had me in their wedding—knowing my husband was fucking this girl on their daughter’s bedroom floor the night before.
She actually reached out last year, scared that I’d reveal her identity.
In that moment, I truly felt for her and promised I’d never let that happen.
Promising to protect someone who shattered me?
The lessons are never-ending from this shock-wave fiasco.
There were so many times the salt was rubbed deeper into the wound.
I had to see those people all the time and be constantly reminded of the shit humans they were then—and even now.
I had to watch songs performed onstage that were written about another woman.
I had to smile and hug people who lied through their teeth to me and stabbed me in the back.
I had to watch these people literally use my husband for years and be told to fuck off anytime I tried to defend him or stand up to them.
It was fucking brutal. The betrayal I felt in a new city, new relationship—that’s something I don’t wish on anyone.
Going through this sober was brutal. I truly don’t know how I stayed off pills. It’s almost like I wanted to feel every ounce of pain so that he could never hurt me that badly again. I wanted to remember how shattered I felt so that it would force me to level up.
When a man puts you through something like that, you never stop loving them, you just love them differently. Your heart is more guarded. Less trusting. Cracked.
The next few years would prove to be the hardest for me. They say in order to appreciate the light you have to explore the darkness. I never understood that term until I came face-to-face with my own darkness.
You ever shook the hand of a smiling devil?
I was about to.