Page 18 of June: Jess' Story

All the alarms are going off in my mind now. Bells are ringing. Flags are waving. Tell mewhat? And “T”? I know they’re friends, but something about the nickname irks me. Tommy is his nickname. He doesn’t needanothernickname.

I’m ready for you. I held up my part of the bargain, T. Now it’s your turn. We can finally do this. If you’re having second thoughts, you just need to let me know.

I’m breathing rapidly now, short bursts of air, in and out. My legs are trembling. My hands are shaking. There’s way too much hot saliva in my mouth.

I’m ready for us, too. Tonight. I promise. I love you.

Oh my god.I love you.Three little words, each one like a dagger, stealing my breath, halting my heart, and souring everything that Tommy and I are.Everything we were.

I’m calling it, July 12, 2023 at 10:49 A.M. That’s the moment I knew — my marriage was ending. Standing soaking wet, naked, in my bathroom while the sounds of Bluey and Bingo devolving into fits of laughter echoed around the small space, that’s when I knew.

Placing both hands against the bathroom sink, I hunch forward and let the counter hold me up. I give myself a couple minutes, but that’s all. Just a few minutes to feel the absolute misery and shittiness of it all. Because Jess Butera won’t let this be the thing that breaks her. Not a fucking chance.

I’m not trying to toot my own horn or anything, but,damnnnnn. I don’t think I’ve ever looked better.

As soon as I threw Tommy’s iPad out our second story window, I took my everything shower. And it’s like Eden knew I needed it because she calmed down and watched her Bluey religiously for the next hour. I was able to shave (everything), lather up my body with the fancy body oil I got from France, and give myself a killer “fuck me” blowout. I did my makeup like I was on my way to an awards gala, then piled Eden and myself in the car for a little shopping trip…on Tommy’s credit card.

We hit up all my faves: Saks, Gucci, and Prada, then were back home in time for me to change for my “date” with my “husband.”

I tighten the strap on my new YSL Opyum sandals, then stand and admire myself in the mirror. If I had red hair I’d look like Jessica-fucking-Rabbit in my red, strapless Bronx and Banco lace dress that pops against my extra tan-for-the-summer, olive skin.

Iama fucking beautiful, amazing woman. Fuck Tommy DiAngelo. Fuck Jamie. I hope they both choke on a dick.

“Wow,” Tommy says from our bedroom doorway.

He smiles at me and I smile back, but I don’t mean it. All I’m thinking is:fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.Maybe the mature thing to do would have been to call him. Let him know that Iknew. Call off the date. Let our marriage fade away peacefully.

But then I thought about it and decided: Nope. Won’t be doing that, will we?

I’ve given up a lot for this man. So much. And now he’s going to dump me?For Jamie???No, I think I’ll go out with a bang, looking like a million dollars, and ending the night by throwing a drink in Tommy’s face. That’s more my speed.

“Ready?” I ask sweetly, and he nods. It’s disturbing how there’s nothing off about his behavior. No hint that he’s about to end our marriageand tell me he’s in love with his best friend. It makes me wonder how long it’s been going on because he’s acting completely normal. Absolutely normal.Fucking sociopath.

I walk out of our bedroom and as I pass him, he places a hand at the small of my back and gives me a kiss on the cheek.Judas.

Our neighbor Glenn is babysitting tonight and she’s already settled into the sofa in our living room with Eden in the crook of her arm while they readThe Velveteen Rabbit. The scene makes me sad. Glenn looks a bit like Julia did.

Eden. Her little family is collapsing and she has no idea.I had no idea either, babe.

I give her a quick kiss on her forehead and thank Glenn before walking outside to wait in Tommy’s car for him.

He’s right at my back, though, slipping a hand around my waist and as we get to the car, he pulls my back against him. My stomach rolls and I have to fight off the urge to turn around and punch him. I do fight the urge because I’m curious: How’s he planning to go about this? Wait until after dinner? Or just the first drink? What’s the end game here? Serve me divorce papers with dessert?

“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” he whispers against my ear, and all I can think is:Yeah, I bet. Big day for you, bud.He can’t see my face, so I just nod against his shoulder while feeling like I could crack any minute. But I won’t. He doesn’t deserve to break me.

He opens my car door, rests his hand on my leg while we drive, then drops me off while he goes to find parking. While he does, I slip into the bar that’s at the alley entrance to our restaurant and take a quick shot of Don Julio for some liquid courage.

I walk back out just in time to see him walking up 9th Street towards me. A genuine looking smile on his face.Ick.

I used to think he was so handsome. (Okay fine, I still think he’s handsome as fuck). He’s svelte. (Picture Harry Styles if Harry ran marathons and shrunk an inch or two). And he dresses to the nines in Armani most days. But on top of looking fuckable, he’s also intelligent and funny and…I hate that I’m losing him. I should say, I hate that I lost him. Because he’s already gone to me.

I put on a mask of confidence and vow I’ll make it through tonight without shedding one tear. (At least not in front of him.)Not one goddamn tear, Jessica.

He slips next to me, and leads me down the alley to our hidden restaurant with a hand at the small of my back the whole time. The touch burns my skin and I can feel the heat creeping up my neck to my cheeks. It’s not desire, though, it’s something more like rage.

But before we step into the restaurant, Tommy takes my hand, effectively pulling me to a stop. He stands practically eye to eye with me in my almost 5-inch heels.

“I don’t want to ruin that lipstick, but can I kiss you?”Considerate prick.He glances down at my lips and I can see the longing isn’t missing from his eyes. It’s just like it always is.