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Fuck, why does it hurt to imagine him with yet another woman?
No.
You’re Jaclyn Fucking Taylor. You deserve better than this bullshit.
How is it fair that he gets to fuck anything that moves, and if it ever got out that I slept with Alex, I’d be crucifiedby the media? I take a deep breath and collect myself as Chris has a meltdown of epic proportions.
“Is everything okay?”
“No,” he sighs, shoving Alex’s clothes into his suitcase.
I should probably donate those when we get home.
I rush over to help him, but as I try, he tugs too hard, and his elbow hits me square in the eye. I push back, both hands flying to my face. “Fuck! Jackie, are you okay?” He pulls them away, no matter how hard I try to hold my hands in place. “Shit, let me call a doctor.”
Chris moves for his phone, but I stop him. “No! I’m fine. The last thing we need is rumors that I’m a battered wife.” While I mean it as a joke, I’m also serious. This clusterfuck of a situation doesn’t need someone saying I’ve been abused on my honeymoon added to the mix.
I rush off to the bathroom to assess the damage in the mirror, and Chris comes up behind me, genuine worry etched in his eyes in the reflection. “Please, let me take a look.”
“It’ll be okay. I just need some ice.” Everything is too heavy; I can’t do this anymore, pretending to love a man that I don’t. Tears track my cheeks as I brace myself on the counter and stifle my sobs.
“If you need ice, I’ll call for someone to bring us a fucking gallon of it. But you’renotokay.”
“I’m… not okay,” I concede, though it has little to do with my eye swelling.
“Please let me take a look?” he repeats, moving my hands away, and I reluctantly turn, keeping my eyes shut tight. He kisses my tears away, pulling me to him; it only makes me sob harder. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jaclyn. For everything.” Wrapping me tighter in his embrace, he sighs deeply. “I love you more than I ever thought I could. I hope you know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
The confession is lost on me—he didn’t once think about me as he fucked other women. While he’s promising oaths I never asked for, I’m stuck in a world of fiction. None of this means anything.
No longer fighting him, he wipes away my tears with the pads of his thumbs and whispers, “I’m going to find some ice and over-the-counter pain medication. I’ll be back in ten minutes. If I’m a minute later, you can castrate me, but I doubt that will serve either of us.”
I let out a soft chuckle as he rushes out the door, and I’m back to wondering if I can make this work with him.
Not likely, but I may as well let him attempt to grovel.
As promised, Chris returns seconds after what would be ten minutes, panting, “Acetaminophen, ibuprofen, and naproxen. Pick your poison.” He dumps a small bag of medication onto the counter and holds up a bag of ice.
Maybe his pain from the accident will spike and he’ll take both ibuprofen and naproxen.
What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be wishing an ulcer on someone!
“Thank you.” I take the bag from him and pull out a couple of ice cubes, placing them in a washcloth to press against my eye. With a deep sigh, I throw him a bone. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“I did this to you, the least I could do is get ice.” He places his hand over mine, pressing the cool washcloth against my eye. “I’m so sorry. Truly, for everything. I love you, Jaclyn... We’re going to be okay.”
My head is screaming, “You’re so full of shit,” while my heart promises, “We can make this work.” Luckily, my heart and head agree to keep him at arm’s length.
“Thank you for bringing me ice and a plethora of pain medication. I think I’ve got it from here.”
“Oh. Right. I understand,” Chris pulls his hand back, slinking away in defeat. I shouldn’t care what he thinks after years of infidelity and our wedding day, but if we stand a chance of salvaging this, I need to try.
“No, stop,” I whisper, the cold, wet cloth still pressed to my eye. “Thank you. It was just an accident.” He perks up at my admission. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”
This time.
I pull the ice away and he kisses my eyelid. “I promise I’ll never hurt you again. You have my word.”
While his promises are empty, I can almost get behind the idea that I might get the happily ever after Alex promised me. Granted, it’s not how I imagined it, but maybe Alex is right that things aren’t as black and white as I thought before I became involved with him—or even Chris. If I can make my husband fall in love with me, he’s more likely to support my dreams.
