“She comes from money,” I say with a shrug, letting her believe whatever her mind spins up. “Tell me about you. What have you been up to since I walked out on you?”
Her eyes jump to mine but quickly turn away. I own what I did. I had no right leaving her like that, not after everything she had done for me. I think in my head, I planned to go back, but after seeing the ugly side of the industry, I knew I didn’t want her to experience what I was experiencing.
“I work a lot.”
“Boyfriend?” As much as I don’t want to know, I have to ask.
“Yes, sort of.”
“Is it one of those ‘we’re in a relationship’ type of things where you both pretend you don’t know what you want?”
“When did you become an expert on relationships?”
I shrug. “Since I joined the band and have to listen to mushy love songs. Answer the question, Whiskey.”
“No,” she says, rolling her eyes. “He’s a Marine and is busy. It’s not serious in the sense that we’re moving in with each other or planning a life. We have fun. We see each other on the weekends if he’s free.”
“Whiskey girl, are you afraid of commitment?”
She mocks me. “Clearly after the number you did on me.”
“Touché.”
“Way to dodge my question about the wedding.”
I shrug. “Talking about you is more fun. I missed this,” I point back and forth between us. “We always had good banter but amazing—”
“Don’t you dare say it, Ajay.” She gives me a stern look. She’s right. Some things should stay in the past and this is the last place where I should recount our many sexual encounters and experiences, although going through them with her would be a nice trip down memory lane.
“So, when’s the wedding?”
“Don’t know.”
Whiskey throws her hands up in the air. “You’re a lot of things, Ajay, but I never took you for the guy who leaves all the planning up to someone else.”
I love this game of back and forth we’re playing and so I decide to up the stakes. I stand and go over to the cot she’s sitting on and take the spot next to her. Our arms and thighs are touching, and it feels like I’m being electrocuted from the energy moving between us. Fuck, how I missed how she used to make me feel so alive. She’s my muse and there will never be anyone else like her.
“I don’t know because we’re not getting married. The woman who you are jealous of,” I purposely leave out the part about Elle’s boobs because one, she’s my boss, and two, I much prefer Whiskey’s over anyone else’s, “is the manager of my band, Sinful Distraction. The couple you saw with her are her parents. Her father is my mentor and drummer of the band Dhara likes. Her mother,” I pause again to gain some composure. “She’s been like a mom to me this past year.”
“She has?” Whiskey’s voice breaks.
“For the first time ever, I had a Christmas with a stocking and presents under the tree.”
“And that brunette is your boss?”
I nod. “Your dad thought the same thing and I didn’t correct him because it was better that you thought I had moved on. The notion backfired, however, when you dropped the bomb that we’re still married.”
Because I’m not sure I’m willing to give that up.
14
Jamie
Why do I feel so much relief from what he’s telling me? He had his first real Christmas, something I was never able to give to him and part of me wants to be petty and jealous. I want to tell him that if he had stuck around, he would’ve had many first holidays with me because I was his wife and we were a family. Yet, I’m so incredibly happy that he found someone to love him like a son because that’s all he’s ever wanted in life, to be loved. My mom tried, but he never felt at home with her. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, to hear he’s not getting married, that the beautiful woman is nothing more than his boss, relieves me. I’m happy and I shouldn’t be because what he does or who he’s with is none of my business. It stopped being my business when I asked him for a divorce even though it seems I wanted to keep his life tied to mine because I never signed or filed the damn papers.
Before I know it, his thumb is rubbing along my cheek bone and my head is leaning against his hand. “Don’t cry, Whiskey,” his voice is husky and makes me long to get lost in the sound of it, to hear him call out my name and tell me that he loves me… that he needs me and that I’ll always be his one and only. But I can’t. That ship, the one that rocked us back and forth until it capsized, has sailed and is not one that either of us should be wanting to board right now. I stand and move away from him, wiping angrily at my tears.
“Pate,” I yell to avoid the ever growing elephant in our cell. “Turn down your damn soap opera!” From behind me, Ajay chuckles.