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“How were things when you saw my mom today?”
“Fine.” He walks to the oven, opens it up, and pulls out a sheet pan with two baked potatoes. “She asked how yesterday went, complained about us having the signs reprinted, but was over it by the time I left.”
“That’s good.”
“Broccoli or asparagus?”
“Fresh or frozen?”
“Fresh.”
“Then asparagus.” I lean back against the counter and watch him as he moves around the kitchen. The only time I ever saw Johnathan cook was when he was making breakfast, and he wasn’t even good at that. Then again, he was a total mama’s boy. His mom cooked for him and did his laundry until he moved out of his parents’ house to move in with me. And when we lived together, I meal prepped on the weekends so that we could just pop something into the microwave when we got home from work late. Something I despised, because I in no way enjoy cooking—baking, sure, if it’s at Christmastime or if it involves cutting up a roll of premade cookie dough and placing it on a pan, or mixing up a box of cake mix, but cooking, no thanks. Not that it mattered to him. He expected me to cook. And I wanted to prove that I would be a good wife, so I did it.
God, I was an idiot.
“What are you thinking about?” Wyatt asks as I watch him drizzle olive oil on the asparagus he spread out on another sheet pan.
“Just reflecting on how stupid I was.”
“Not sure that I love you thinking about your ex when you’re looking at me.”
“Who said I was thinking about my ex?”
“Because the only time I ever think about how stupid I’ve been is when my ex crosses my mind.”
“How long were you two together?”
“Since we were in high school.” My eyes widen. “We started dating when we were freshmen and got married the day after we graduated, and two weeks later I left for boot camp. I was gone a lot the first few years we were married.”
“That had to have been hard.” I pause. “Being away from each other so much.”
“Honestly, I didn’t notice.” He must read my expression, because he continues. “We hadn’t lived together before we were married since we were both kids, and she didn’t move in with me after we were married. She still lived with her parents until I reenlisted after four years and got more permanent orders.”
“You were married four years before you lived together?”
“She was in school back in Florida, or I thought that’s what it was, but she really just liked living in her parents’ big house and driving the cars her dad would trade out for her every couple of years. When I finally talked her into moving to California, where I was stationed, she didn’t like living on base, so I got us an apartment. Only it wasn’t something on the beach or even really nice, since I couldn’t afford much on my own at the time, and she fucking hated it. A year later I moved us to a nicer place when she kept at me about not having enough space for her family and friends to come visit. After we moved, things were okay for a little while, but before long she started talking about wanting a new car because her dad stopped trading hers in after she moved in with me. I got her the new car, but a few months after that, one of her friends was out to visit and made a comment about our place, and soon Amelia started back up with wanting something bigger, nicer.”
“Didn’t she work? Could she afford the new car and help get you guys in a new place if she wanted it so bad?”
“She worked, but her money was her money and my money was our money.” My nose scrunches. “I didn’t mind, babe. I wanted to take care of her. I never had a problem with that, but I was just starting out in my career and didn’t have much to my name at the time.”
“Still, Wyatt, it’s messed up that she expected you to give her everything she wanted and wasn’t willing to help you out.”
“Remember I told you I thought I was happy.”
“I remember,” I whisper, then continue. “I know that feeling all too well. It took me a while after I found out about Johnathan cheating to realize that there were hundreds of red flags that I was ignoring when it came to our relationship, things that I pretended were okay when they most definitely were not.” I shake my head. “The crazy thing is it was all stuff that would have led to our demise, even if he never cheated. But as you know, hindsight is always twenty-twenty, and you never really have clarity until you’re on the outside looking in.”
“Again, he’s an idiot, babe.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “The thing is I think that he was happy with me, and we might have been happy for years if I didn’t know he was cheating and he was able to do that without me finding out, but like you, I wouldn’t have been really happy, I would have just been okay because the situation was one I knew.”
“I guess in the end it doesn’t matter. We both learned a lesson, figured shit out, and are better off for it.”
“We are,” I say softly, and he looks over at me, holding my gaze for a long moment before he orders, “Come here, Genevieve.”
I don’t hesitate. I walk over to him, and when I’m close enough, he leans down and presses his mouth to mine in a soft kiss. It’s so weird kissing him after that conversation—actually, it’s weird how we have even gotten to the point where he feels like he can kiss me when he wants and I don’t feel the urge to tell him to back off.
We hardly know each other. Okay, that’s not exactly true. He knows more about my past and how I feel about it than anyone I’m close to because I hate talking about the Johnathan situation with my family and friends. Don’t get me wrong, I love them—I just don’t always want their opinion or a pep talk about how none of what happened is my fault. Sometimes I just want to vent, to complain about how shitty the situation was and how it hurt but didn’t kill me. He probably gets that more than anyone. Actually, after listening to him I know that he understands that more than most. His wife might not have cheated, but their relationship was crumbling without him even knowing it was happening, and in the end he’s better off that it’s over.
