Chapter 22 - Jackson
Now
Miscarriage.
The word has continued to ring in my ears since I got the hell out of my house, leaving Taevin alone like an inconsiderate, selfish prick to go to the nearest bar.
And even now, after too many whiskeys to count, that one word has me spiraling.
Fuck!
Taevin miscarried a baby—our baby—and I wasn’t there for her.
Why didn’t she tell me? How the fuck can we get a real second chance when the odds have been stacked so incredibly against us all along?
Not only does she have cancer, is grieving the loss of her ability to carry her own children, and all along she was holding this secret loss of ours hostage.
Yet, here I am sitting at a bar drowning my sorrows while she sits alone at my house.
I’m such a fuckup. Even knowing that, it doesn’t stop me from ordering another whiskey.
My drink is set in front of me on top of a coaster before the bartender turns to the customer that just sat down beside me.
I’m bleary eyed at this point, but as I turn my head, I take in the figure and squint. Huh, that’s weird because the woman looks a hell of a lot like my best friend’s wife.
“Hi, can I get a club soda, please and thank you?” When the bartender nods, I don’t miss the way his eyes make a slow perusal down her chest.
Eyes up, motherfucker, I think to myself.
“Kenna? Is that you?” I question, squeezing my eyes shut, not entirely sure I’m seeing things correctly right now.
Because there’s no way my best friend’s wife is sitting at a bar in a dress that looks like she’s trying to get picked up, and very obviously not wearing her wedding ring on her left hand.
Yeah, that’s right. I’m not too inebriated to miss out on that glaringly obvious detail.
“Jackson. Oh, hey,” she says, apprehensive as she looks over her shoulder like she’s trying to see if others have caught her out on the prowl like I just have.
What the fuck is going on right now?
Instead of asking her that, I try a more composed version. “What are you doing here?”
“Just, uh . . . you know, grabbing a drink.”
“With who?”
“M-myself,” she stammers, and even in my drunken state I can tell something is up.
“M&M, you’re going to have to answer slowly so I can understand because I’m fucking turned up at this point, but, respectfully, what the fuck are you doing here by yourself without your wedding ring on?”
McKenna’s eyes widen before she glances down at her left ring finger, almost as if she’s just now noticing her ring is missing. Good, I hope all she did was lose it.
She runs her fingers over her left hand almost as if she needs to feel it to believe it’s not there. “Oh, I must’ve left it in my jewelry box at home.”
“Uh huh, and I’m just sitting here having celebratory drinks by myself for shits and giggles,” I deadpan, narrowing my eyes.
When she just stares at me, I ask, “Shouldn’t you be at home with your husband and kids?”
The words have barely left my mouth before a strong hand comes down on my shoulder and grips it a little too firmly for my liking.
“I’m going to need you to apologize to my wife, Jax.
Best friend or not, you shouldn’t talk to her that way.
If she wants to have a night away from me and the kids, she has every right to do so. In fact, I encourage it.”
I turn sluggishly in my barstool until I’m facing Griffin. “G? Oh, hey man, I didn’t realize you were here. I thought I was being a good friend by confronting your wife before she went home with another guy.”
Griff pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “Liquid courage really makes you say stupid shit, J.”
Realizing I haven’t apologized to Kenna yet, I swivel back to face her. Too quickly, apparently, because I have to grip onto the bar to steady myself. “Sorry, Kenna. I know you’d never cheat on our guy. I mean, just fucking look at him. He’s like the ultimate DILF and you’re like—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Griff growls, cutting me off.
Throwing my hands up in surrender, I ping pong my eyes back and forth between them. “I won’t. Anyways, I’ll let you two love birds get back to your date night. I’m sure you don’t want a sorry motherfucker like me to bring down the vibe.”
“What’s wrong, Jax?”
“What isn’t?” I’m quick to retort.
Griff smacks my arm. “Do you need a ride home?”
“I’m not really sure I want to go home right now.”
“You wanna sleep it off at our place and I can swing you back home later?” Griff asks.
“Yeah, that might not be a bad idea. But wait, I don’t want to ruin your date night. Kenna was just ordering a drink.”
“I’m not really feeling the best anyways.” Kenna shoulders her purse just as Griff shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over his wife’s shoulders. That’s when I notice Griffin isn’t wearing his wedding ring either.
Only after we’re all securely in the confines of Griffin’s Jeep do I insert myself in their business. “Why were you two acting so weird at the bar? And why are you both not wearing your wedding rings? You guys aren’t like, having marriage troubles or anything are you?”
“You really don’t have a filter when you drink, do you?” McKenna mumbles under her breath as an obvious blush heats her cheeks.
“Nope,” I say, popping the “p” just for the hell of it.
“Well, if you must know, we were doing a little marriage experiment,” she says, as if that clarifies anything.
“The fuck? Are you guys like swingers or some shit?”
“What? Jesus, Jax. No! I don’t share my wife.”
“And I most definitely do not share my husband,” Kenna adds for good measure.
“Okay, okay, I just had to make sure you two weren’t in some kinky sex club or something.”
“So what if we were?” Kenna questions, her tone haughty.
God, I’m such an ass.
“Sorry, I’m not shaming anyone. I just figured you two weren’t the sharing type.”
“And you’d be right,” they say in unison.
Freaky.
“Anyway, we read this article that says you should always date your spouse. And while we’re pretty religious about date nights, we wanted to uh—” He pauses to clear his throat. “We wanted to try something new.”
McKenna turns in her seat to face me. “We were there to pick each other up. That’s why we both weren’t wearing our rings and that’s why I told you I was there by myself. The plan was to go to a random bar and hit on each other like we were strangers.”
“Yeah, you know, to see if I can still woo my wife.” Griff waggles his eyebrows at me in the rearview mirror.
“And does he still got it?” I ask McKenna.
“Jury’s still out. He didn’t quite get the chance to use his pick up lines on me.”
I wince, scrunching my face up. “Ah, shit. Is that because of me? It’s because of me, isn’t it? Sorry for being such a cock block, Griff. I’ll make it up to you, buddy.”
“And how are you gonna do that?”
“I’ll be the most upstanding house guest you’ve ever had. I’ll go right to my room in the basement and I’ll be so silent, it’ll be like I’m not even there.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, shaking his head.
I chuckle. “My point exactly.”
After McKenna gets me settled in their guest room with a big glass of water, I thank her before throwing myself onto the bed. It’s comfortable and I nearly pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow. Only as I’m drifting off to sleep do I curse myself for not checking in on Taevin.
The next morning my head feels like I’ve driven it through a brick wall. Repeatedly. The pounding only intensifies as I make my way up the basement steps to find music blaring from McKenna and Griffin’s kitchen.
I watch in utter bewilderment as Griff stands next to their stove, shirtless, with a red, white and blue apron tied around his waist that says MY WIFE IS AN OLYMPIC GOLD MEDALIST, WHAT’S YOUR SUPER POWER?
as he scream-sings into the end of his spatula along to Phil Vassar’s “Just Another Day In Paradise.”
Griff turns, flipping a pancake high in the air as Kenna drapes an arm around his shoulder, laughing at his antics.
It’s as I sit there, a spectator to their happiness, that I realize wholeheartedly I want this with Taevin.
If there were ever a couple to look up to when times are rough, it’s them.
Griffin and McKenna have been through hell and back with their heartache and loss, but when they found their way back to each other, they continued to grow and grieve together after working on themselves apart.
When Griff faces Kenna again, he places his palm on her lower stomach and brings her in for a kiss.
My heart sinks in my chest momentarily, the ache only intensifying when I hear Griff, even over the music, assure Kenna when he says, “I’m so happy, Sunshine.
We’re going to be outnumbered, no more man-to-man coverage for the Turner household. ”
Kenna looks at him with stars in her eyes, so overjoyed in their moment together. I feel like an interloper to their moment of shared excitement. I try to make myself scarce, but as I quietly start down the steps to the basement, Griff calls out, “Morning, J. How’d you sleep?”
Not wanting to be rude, and also wanting to claim a stack of Griff’s homemade pancakes all for myself, I greet them both. “Morning, G. Morning, Kenna. I slept great, thanks for letting me crash here.”
“No problem, man. Anytime,” Griff assures me.
“Coffee?” Kenna asks. Bless this woman’s heart, she’s one of my favorites. And I’m not just saying that because she’s pouring me a cup of my tried-and-true hangover cure at the same time her husband sets a massive stack of pancakes in front of me all without me having to ask.
“You guys are the best, you know that?” I tell them.
“Oh, we know,” Griff muses just as Kenna swats at his chest.
“Don’t make his head any bigger than it already is this morning, Jaxy,” Kenna jests.
“What’s got your ego inflated?” I ask as if I don’t already know the answer, not wanting them to know I accidentally saw their exchange earlier.
“You’ll hear all in good time, buddy,” Griff answers, shooting a wink at Kenna.