Page 58 of June: Jess' Story

Then, without even looking at Tom (officially his new nickname), I say, “Alex hurt me, and then we hurt each other, but I think, after some time, we can both look back and say neither of us meant it. I know I didn’t.” I look into his eyes, sincerely telling him I didn’t mean it. I even run my hand down his chest in a warm gesture. “But when you love someone as much as I loved him, love him still, it was too painful and raw toexplain. So I didn’t.” I wish Alex knew that everything I just said was the truth.

“How did you two even meet?” Jamie finally asks, the lawyer looking for holes in our story.

“Well, believe it or not, it was at a cemetery,” Alex says with not an ounce of defense to his tone, just pure nonchalance.

“What the fuck?” Tommy asks, his face showing the confusion.

“You can’t make this stuff up,” Alex says in response.

“Which cemetery?” Jamie, again.

“Fairfax Memorial,” Alex and I say at the same exact time, sealing our story with gentle knowing smiles at one another.

This sends Tommy out of his seat and pacing in the living room.Good. He should be worried.

“Why don’t you live here then?” Jamie’s question is directed at Alex. I immediately go to pipe up that he does, but Alex beats me to it.

Rubbing a hand up and down my forearm, he says, “I’ve been supervising the build of our dream house, in California. It’ll be ready by Christmas. You two should join us,” he poses back to the two men. I can’t tell fiction from fact anymore, but I assume there’s an actual house in California, otherwise he wouldn’t have invited them, right? Either that or he is the best bluffer I’ve ever met.

“We’d love to,” Jamie says sort of smugly.

“Great!” Alex replies, “Pack your snow boots!”

“Wait, were you talking about Jess when you emailed me about doing your prenup?” Tom’s mouth is hanging slightly open, a hand in his hair. He’s definitely shitting bricks now.

“I was,” Alex says, no bullshit.

“That was in July! Before Jess even asked me for a divorce!” I look at Alex, astounded.

“I didn’t know you did that,” I say quietly, genuinely surprised.

“When you know, you know,” Alex says then shrugs, but I don’t miss his pink cheeks when he leans forward and gives me a soft kiss.

Tommy and Jamie finally leave around 8:00 and I immediately move into bedtime routine for Eden. I bathe her, lather her up, brush her hair, and read two books. I’m singing her our nightly lullaby when I sense him at the doorway.

“Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby.” Suddenly, I’m feeling very self-conscious about my singing voice.

I close the door to May’s room, where Eden’s been sleeping, and he moves slightly out of the way to make room for me in the hall. I whisper to him, “Let’s talk,” then motion for him to follow me into my bedroom.

Why? Why do I do this?(Well, that’s where the monitor is. Duh.)

After I get the monitor off my bedside table, I find Alex has shut the door behind us and is perusing my space. The books on my shelves, the photos on the pinboard. I’m embarrassed to admit I never got around to updating the space too much. (Yes, I took down the Eminem poster. No, I didn’t take down my prom pics.)

I’m kicking myself for that when I catch him stuck on one photo in particular, the photo of Amy and me. She was probably 16 and I was 13. I feel a flush of heat and my throat goes bone dry. It’s still Amy for him, isn’t it?It’ll always be Amy.My chest aches. A snapshot of him staring at that photo would be titled,“Nostalgic Man Longs for Something He’ll Never Have Again.”

It’s a good reminder. My instinct was to wrap my arms around him and then push him down on my bed, but that would be misguided. The words, the touches, the feelings I felt today, those were all Amy’s.

“She was the only friend I ever had when I went to my Dad’s house during the summers.” He simply nods and starts looking at the other items on the pinboard like I didn’t just catch him in the act of staring for too long at his late wife’s photo.

“She was really great, Alex. You were incredibly lucky.”Shewas incredibly lucky. That’s what I really want to say.

“Let’s talk about next steps,” he says, still not looking at me. Now he’s standing, looking too intently at my collection of snow globes that are completely unremarkable.

“Okay.”

“Would you consider moving to California?” He turns around. The top button of his henley has finally popped under the strain of his muscles and I can’t help but stare at the definition of his pecs now on display. “I think it makes sense and it makes us look good. We have a community there, family. New house is pretty amazing, though I’ll leave that to you to judge…”

“Umm,” I try to think of all the reasons to stay in NYC, but aside from May and my pride, I don’t know that I have one. “I’m worried…last time I put my trust in someone, depended on someone,I was left with absolutely nothing. I know at the end of the day all I need is custody of Eden, but I need a job.Ineed a life, too.”