From the heated look in Sarah’s eyes, it was clear she was looking for a debate, one that said she belonged and I didn’t. Her expression held a challenge. Battle lines were being drawn in the sand. Instead of giving her what she wanted, I hid in the bathroom with Cassie while Jaxon and his wife faced off.
Tears fall and I fight the weight on my shoulders as I hike my backpack up and let myself into my sorority house—my real world. The girls call out to me from the kitchen, but I ignore them as I rush through the house. With dejection punching me in the chest, I’m in no state of mind to deal with their questions. I need to get to my room, get myself together. My eyes blur with tears as I take the stairs two at a time.
Jaxon is still married.
Fresh grief rides through my veins, flooding my body with turbulence and my legs threaten to give out. My damn heart pounds against my ribcage as I fish my bedroom key from my bag, but when I see a box sitting outside my door, I go still. Sylvie comes up the stairs, her footsteps slow and steady, and I wipe my face with the back of my hand. I don’t want her to see me crying. I don’t want to answer questions, or admit that I’d been a fool. Jaxon and I had been playing house. Nothing else.
“Hey Rachel, you okay?”
I unlock my door, and pick up the box. Trying my best to act casual, and pretend that my heart hasn’t been shred to pieces—with a cheese grader. “How long has this been here?”
“A week I think.”
I keep my back to Sylvie and check the big box for a return address. “Who is it from?”
“I don’t know. Some old dude dressed in a suit delivered it here.”
What the hell? “It didn’t come from a courier?”
“No, he was driving a Buick or something. Why, what’s is it?”
“Did he say who this was from?”
“Didn’t ask.” I turn to her, and she takes a step toward me. “Jesus, Rachel, what’s going on? Are you okay, you look like you’ve been crying?”
“I’m fine,” I lie and hurry inside my room, shutting the door tightly behind me.
I drop the box on my bed and go to my window. I look across to Jaxon’s house but his bedroom is dark. Sarah’s car is still sitting in the driveway.
Jaxon is still married.
Nausea wells up inside me to think all this time Jaxon has been married. But I should have known, right? He said she took off without looking back. How could I ever have thought they’d gotten a divorce? God, I am so much like those women my father used to whore around with. Cassie is going to hate me as much as I hated them.
I swallow, my throat so tight, it’s almost impossible to breathe.
An anxious ball lodges in my gut as another thought hits. Is this what Jaxon wanted to talk to me about? That once Sarah returned home, they’d be getting back together—because they were still married? He kept talking about timing. He might not have known she’d show up at his door, but did he know she was home, and that they would be getting the tree tomorrow? Was that why he wanted to celebrate my birthday early? So I could be gone before Sarah moved back in, and they could go tree hunting as a family. A real one. Not the one I was pretending was mine.
He was never yours.
As anxiety threatens to overwhelm me, I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. That’s when my thoughts take a resounding halt, and slowly begins to back up, change paths—a train reversing the engine with a screech roar and hopping on to another rail.
As I consider everything we’ve been through, from our first meeting to the knitting, baking my favorite cookies, making my favorite meal, my convictions waver. I think back to the man Jaxon is. A great father, lover, friend. A man with more integrity in his pinky than my father…my ex.
Jaxon is a good man.
As I reflect on that, I glance around the room, my eyes refocusing, losing the blurry haze. Up until tonight, things had been so good between us. Has it really changed, or is it just past experiences coloring my view? My heart leaps, and tendrils of hope seep through my veins, pushing back all negative thoughts, refusing to let me think the worst of him.
The truth is, would a man pining for his ‘wife’, a man I’m in love with, touch me with such tender care, drive me to school every day to ensure I’m warm and safe? His actions speak volumes of his character—show the real man behind the tough exterior. I think about that for a fleeting second, which stretches, expands, fills my thoughts with positive things, like how he took me to meet his friends. Would he do that if this was sex only, if he weren’t falling for me the same way I was falling for him?
My heart beats harder, racing into my throat. Maybe tonight’s talk wasn’t about letting me down easily, and more about celebrating my birthday early, and opening up about how we felt, so we could all go pick out a tree as a family. A rush of optimism slams through me.
I think back to what he once said about Sarah. She has a way of saying things to get what she wants. Was that why she flashed her ring?
