Page 39 of June: Jess' Story

“Okay, raid the pantry. Get your sister, meet me in the living room in five minutes.” I instruct her.

“Okay?” Is all she says before shuffling down the hall for Elodie. I blow a couple raspberries on Eden’s cheeks and listen to her giggle before sliding her on my hip and walking towards the living room. I text Damian on my way.

Jess

Where are you? Brit ended up in the hospital again.

Damian

Liam is with her, right?

Yes, and?

Jess, I can’t be there. With all of you. It’s killing me.

Oh, Damian.He left a couple days ago for a meeting in Silicon Valley. I think it might have been a farce, though. Watching Brit do this dance with Matt and Liam, itiskilling him. I saw it firsthand. If I know him, he’ll have flown Summer out in an attempt to bury his hurt in someone else. I guess I’ll leave him to it.

“What are we doing?” Elodie dumps a pile of candy onto the coffee table.

“You girls ever seen Goodfellas?” I ask. They both reply, ‘No.’ “Well, you heard it here first, mob wife aesthetic is gonna be big. Your education starts today.” I may as well be speaking Greek, but they shrug and settle into the couch. Caroline takes Eden from me and cuddles her into her Boppy while Elodie sprawls out beside me.

Mob wife aesthetic might notactuallygo big, but at a minimum, I know I’ll smile when I hear Spider say, “Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Tommy.” (See, already smiling.)

The first time I came to Spearhead Lake, I’ll admit, I was underwhelmed. There’s not a lot to it. Three businesses housed in log cabins on one side of the road, the same thing on the other side, and just dense forest all around. We never even saw the lake that day. Just these sort of drab-looking, side-of-the-road, mountain-town businesses.

But the second time, when we crested the top of the mountain road where Liam’s house is, I caught a glimpse of the water, and it started clicking. Why Brit loves this place, why she feels at peace here, why she couldn’t wait to get back to it all.

Then seeing Liam’s house (think Arch Digest-level mountain house that could’ve been designed by Amber Lewis), meeting Carly (their chef) in real life, and walking around the back deck and lake front, it was even more obvious why she loved this place. (And Liam.) I’d convinced myself if Liam andBrit don’t work out, I’ll take a crack at it. Becausethisis the fucking dream.

It’s beena dream, being here. Really. The girls take Eden all the time. Carly cooks. There’s a staff of cleaning crew that comes every few days, and aside from hearing Brit and Liam have sex occasionally, I’m sleeping well.

I could be really happy, enjoying this break from reality. But I’m scared for when the time comes and I have to go back. To DC. To Tommy’s house. To deal with…that. And it’s coming, I know it.

As I sit with Eden on a blanket on the little beach area beside the dock, I think I probably look happy, pouring sand into buckets and watching Eden’s eyes go wide with delight. I laugh when she squeals, and we do it over and over again. A snapshot of us would be titled,“Mother and Daughter Enjoying Vacation.”But you know how that goes, it’d hardly be the truth.

When we head up the dock steps to reapply sunscreen and refill water bottles, I could die when I walk into the kitchen in just a bikini and see Alex sitting at the island reading a newspaper. (Who even gets newspapers anymore, you ask? Liam. Liam does, because he’s old.)

I freeze (my M.O. when it comes to this guy), but he barely acknowledges me. He lifts his head, sees it’s me, and then it’s back to reading.Cool.Fucking amazing even. (I’m obviously being sarcastic.) I know my body isn’t “bangin’” like it used to be. I’ve had a kid, and I’m in my 30s. But, like, not even a small glance? It’s always like this, though. Whateverthisis. It’s one-sided.

No, it’s two-sided. It’s just that I like him, and he hates me, so now I have to hate him, too.

I thought for a while he didn’t hate me, maybe even liked me, but turned out I was just a distraction while he was trying to get over his real love, Amy. (Also my M.O. now, being the placeholder.) Hate that that’s who I am. I’ve never been a “poor me” type person, but fuck it. I just want to feel sorry about myself for a little bit.

One question, though: When do I get to start being the one that got away?

“Hi, Alex. Great to see you, too.” I deadpan without looking at him. I put Eden in her highchair, throwing some cheerios on her tray while I refill our water bottles. All while Alex says…nothing back. I don’t think he even sees me and the back of my throat burns painfully at that barb of truth.

I grab Brit’s tote bag out of the mudroom, throwing the sunscreen, a couple pouches, and some snacks in it. Looking at Eden, who’s still busy fingering her cheerios, then at Alex, I make the decision to leave her and run upstairs for the Pack ‘n Play. If Alex is here, I won’t be. We’ll be on the deck or the dock all day.

I set everything by the back door and start cleaning up the mess Eden just made.

“You need help?”

I slowly turn from where I’m squatting on the floor picking up cereal to look at the man who just spoke to me for the first time in…years. (Aside from when he said my name at Brit’s house. Which I don’t think counts, because I’m almost positive I imagined it.)

My mouth is almost certainly hanging open, staring at this stupid man who still makes me swoon. This attraction, it doesn’t even make sense. He’s got light hair (sandy colored) and blue eyes, and has a body only capable of being formed by hours in a gymper day. (He’s bulky, in the best way.) He’s justsonot my type. Tommy is my type. Dark hair, dark eyes, slim, dresses like a city boy, might run, but that’s the extent of his exercise plan.

This Chris Hemsworth knockoff is not supposed to do it for me, for so many reasons. And I hate him for that. I hate that he ignores me, avoids me, and treats me like shit. Hate him for those reasons, too.