Page 19 of June: Jess' Story

Well, I can play this game, too.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I say seductively, then lean forward to kiss him.

He’s warm and tastes slightly minty. He pushes his tongue in, and I let him. The kiss is like it always is. Like we can’t waitto get home and rip each other’s clothes off. My stomach sinks at the image and I end the kiss with a sharp nip at his bottom lip. (Might have drawn blood.)

He pulls away a few inches and puts his fingers to his lip, staring at me slightly in shock. I play it off innocently with a devilish wink and he smiles, but it’s slow. It’s the first sign of the night to come. The canaries in the mine start to pass out, starved of oxygen. Somewhere, a bell tolls. A flag waves. A siren wails. Maybe he’s wondering if I already know. Or maybe he’s wondering if that nip was on purpose…

I starve him the opportunity to ask me as I turn and give him my back to enter the restaurant.

“I just love this restaurant,” I chat with the host while they seat us. My voice is unusually sunny for this run-of-the-mill dinner. “Nope, no anniversary tonight. No special occasion. Just a night I’m sure I’llneverforget,” is my response when they ask if we’re here celebrating anything.

Crickets from Tommy. He’s not an idiot. He’s perceptive. Between the kiss (where he probably tasted tequila on me) and that comment, he’s probably understanding that I’m not as clueless as he anticipated.

Once we’re seated, I notice we’ve been sat at a table for four. When the host only clears away one additional place setting, I glance at Tommy and raise an eyebrow. It’s a question, and as much as I wanted to let this play out organically, my roiling stomach can’t sit through seven courses waiting.

“Tommy? Would you like to explain?” I ask, fake sweetness coating my voice. He reaches across the table for my hand, but I don’t give it. Instead, I lean back in my chair, adding additional space between us.

“Jess. I love you so much. You know that, right?”No. I don’t reply. I just sit there waiting, absorbing this moment. There’s people all around us, enjoying their pre-dinner cocktails. There’s servers bustling in between tables. The kitchen is open-air to the dining room, and the clatter of pans and people yelling out “fire!” bounces against walls and rattles around inside my brain.

But everything gets fuzzy in the lead up tothis. Whatever comes out of his mouth next is likely to change my world, effective immediately. I should have just let this play out. I’m not ready. I don’t want it. I’d take it back. But I can’t.

The train has left the station.

“I want us to explore opening up our marriage.”

The clatter ceases. The clinking glasses halt. The shuffle of feet stops. The kitchen turns down to a simmer. And all I see, all I hear, is my husband asking me for an open marriage.

I just keep staring at him.Remember, Jess, no tears. Not a fucking one.

He’s looking at me expectantly. His hair is slightly moppy today, a loose piece of wavy brown hair falling forward and he pushes it back while still waiting on me.

“Why?” I think, Ihope, I’ll catch him in a lie because I’m a sick bitch that wants — noneeds— this to hurt.

I can tell he’s grappling with something internally before he finally letsitout. “I’m in love with Jamie.” If I thought him asking for an open marriage was bad, this is the sucker punch. The kick in the stomach.Jamie, who’s been in his life since before I was.Jamie, who is our child’s godparent.Jamie, who he stays with when he works in Taiwan.

“How long?” I ask, needing to know how long I’ve been played a fool. Needing the pain.

He doesn’t look down, or ashamed, or any of the things he should, and a part of me thinks:Alright, good for fucking you.

“Since always,” he says apologetically, yet also sincerely.

Okay.(Read: Not okay. Nothing is okay.) I’m laying on the ground, breathless. Sucker punched. Bruised ribs from where his boot is repeatedly hitting me, and now he drives the dagger through my chest.Direct hit.

“Then what the fuck do you need me for?” I ask coldly. My voice is ice. My gaze is murderous. Back stiff, and ramrod straight.

He looks sad, like he’s wondering,‘How could she even ask that?’My gaze doesn’t waver, though. My spine is locked, I’m poised, and not one fucking tear will be shed. He does not get to break me. Period. The end.

“I still loveyou,Jess. I love our family. I want all of us…to be a family.” At that, I laugh disingenuously and shake my head.

“I cannot believe you would even ask that of me.” I stand up. I’m done here. He doesn’t even know me.

My only regret is I didn’t wait long enough to order a drink to throw in his face.

A hand at my back sends a chill down my spine. I turn to face the gentle touch and am met with gorgeous green eyes, golden hair, tawny skin, and a million-dollar smile. (Think Theo James. I know, is it any wonder my husband is in love with him?)

“Jamie.” I nod at him curtly, still standing out of my seat.

“Jess.” He looks at me, then at Tommy, then back to me. “So he told you.” I will not let them have this over me.