CHAPTER 51

“Hey… you doing okay?” Alma asks me as she pops her head into my room.

I look up from my computer and give her a forced smile, but there’s some truth in it because I’m happy to see her. She always brightens my day.

“Yeah… sure,” I tell her as I nod down to my computer. “Checking out some more places to apply.”

“Where?” she asks sadly, because she knows I’m talking about far away.

“Bigger cities… New York, Boston, Pittsburgh… maybe Miami, but not sure I can handle that humid heat,” I tell her as my throat threatens to close at the thought of moving so far away.

But I think it’s the best thing.

Ironically, I was offered the position I’d applied for here in Nevada the day after Noel found out about me and Alexander. I was too distraught to even reply to them, and after a few days, I’m sure they got the hint I wasn’t interested.

And I wasn’t.

I was only interested in leaving Nevada.

“Those are all East Coast,” Alma states the obvious.

“I know,” I say glumly. “I thought about Europe, but figured that was a little too far away from you.”

She smiles and comes to sit on the edge of my bed. I’m propped up against the headboard and move my computer to the mattress beside me.

“Do you think,” I start off hesitantly, and I can see she knows what’s coming by the empathetic look on her face, “that if he knew I was leaving, that would spur him to do something?”

Alma’s expression turns even more sad, and she reaches out to take my hand. “I went to see him.”

“When?” I ask in shocked surprise, my hand clutching hers harder.

“A few days ago,” she says and just stares at me.

I stare right back at her.

Finally, with a tiny wince, she says, “You need to move on, Jasmine. It’s not going to happen.”

God, my chest feels like it’s going to cave in the pain hits me so hard. I thought after over a week without Alex, it would get easier to handle, but this is just as devastating to hear than when he walked away from me.

Immensely more heartbreaking than every text or call he ignored. Because after every one of them, I still had hope. I still had belief he’d come around.

But Alma’s seen him. She’s talked to him.

She’s telling me the truth. Alex is never coming for me.

“God,” I whisper as I press the palm of my hand into my chest and tears fill my eyes. “Why does this hurt so much?”

“Because you love him,” she says softly. I note she doesn’t tell me that he loves me. Clearly, she didn’t get that from her meeting with him.

I nod in understanding and when I blink, the tears fall.

“Oh, Jasmine,” she says in shared misery and opens her arms up. I lean forward and fall into them, putting my head on her shoulder. Staring at my bedroom wall made blurry by the tears falling heavy, I let her hold me.

Finally, I dry up and lift my head. She jumps up from the bed, runs to the bathroom, and returns with a roll of toilet paper. I take off several sheets and dry my face.

The doorbell rings to the apartment and just ten minutes ago, I would have been exhilarated at the thought it was Alex coming to beg for me back. But I trust Alma and if she told me I need to move on, then that’s not him.

I sit back against the headboard and pull my computer back onto my lap.

“I’ll go get that,” she says and then asks, “want to go out tonight for dinner? Tacos and tequila?”

I give her a watery smile. “Sure.”

Alma leaves, pulling my bedroom door shut behind me. I look back to the website for The Miami Herald, trying to navigate to a section that contains contact information for job applications.

A soft knock on my door causes my head to snap up, and then I’m utterly floored when I see Peter standing there with just his head pushing through. “Can I come in?”

“Um… yeah,” I say in bewilderment. “But what are you doing here?”

Peter walks in and shuts the door. He looks at me silently a moment, keenly taking in my red eyes and blotchy skin before he says, “I was worried about you. You haven’t been responding to me this past week. Not even a ‘go to hell, Peter’.”

I give him a small smile and move over so he can come sit on the edge of the bed. He takes a seat with casual ease, and I take a second to appreciate how handsome my husband is. Sandy-blond hair worn in a business cut, face always cleanly shaven. He’s wearing my favorite cologne and dressed casually in shorts and a polo shirt.

“You didn’t have to come here,” I tell him.

“You’re clearly having a tough time,” he returns softly. “And you’re my wife. I love you. Of course I had to come and check on you, even if I’m part of that hard time.”

“Peter—”

“Is your heart broken, Jasmine?” he asks me simply.

I nod, unable to voice the words because my throat is clogged. The tears in my eyes speak volumes and Peter’s face turns sad and empathetic all at once.

“It’s not me who broke your heart though?” he asks.

I blink hard, wipe my face with more toilet paper, and give a little cough. “You did break my heart. But I fell for someone, and it got broken again.”

I can tell he’s being careful with his words and he’s genuinely curious, if not a little hurt when he asks, “Not to doubt your feelings, but how did you fall for someone that fast? In just a matter of weeks.”

“It’s Alex.” It takes him a moment to understand who I mean.

“Noel’s friend?” he asks. They’ve never met, but he’s heard Noel talk about him plenty and I’ve talked about him a little bit over our years of marriage.

I nod again. “I didn’t expect it to happen. Wasn’t looking for it, but…”

“But why wouldn’t you?” he asks with some self-recrimination. “I gave you every reason to.”

“It’s okay,” I say candidly. “I’ve been doing a lot of reflection, and I don’t think I was the wife you needed me to be.”

“Not true,” he says immediately. “I was a selfish asshole who got stuck on myself. I saw I wasn’t the husband you needed. I boiled it down to sex, and honestly, I’m selfish in bed, too. I think I took and didn’t give enough.”

I shrug. “I don’t have it all figured out. But maybe we’re both right.”

There’s a heavy moment of silence, and Peter pushes off the bed. He paces around the small room, looking at nothing really because I have nothing of me in here. This was only ever supposed to be temporary for me.

Finally, he turns around and says, “I’ve been reflecting, too.”

I tilt my head, oddly at ease with my husband for some reason. He’s being so transparent, and I’ve never seen that before.

“I don’t think I had my priorities right in life,” he says hesitantly. “When I asked you to leave, I had put myself at the top of the totem pole. Right below that was my job, and Jasmine… it embarrasses the fuck out of me to admit this, but I’m not even sure you were next. I don’t think there was anything else after that, and I’m just so sorry I failed you in that respect.”

Tears spring into my eyes again. I’m completely blown away by his admission. In our entire marriage, Peter has never taken responsibility for his flaws. He’s refused to believe he’s anything less than perfect.

“Thank you for saying that,” I say quietly.

He nods and comes back to the bed, sitting beside me. When he takes my hand, I let him, because it feels safe and secure. “I know I’m not the cause of your current heartbreak, but if you let me… I’d like to help you fix it.”

My eyebrows draw inward. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, come back home with me,” he says with earnest determination. “Give me another chance. Let me try to fix what I broke. I’ll go to counseling if that will help, but I’m not ready to throw away eight years with you so easily.”

I stare at him with astonishment. I know this man very well, and I’ve never seen him show such genuine vulnerability before. It’s so contrary to the man I know, I’m not sure I can trust it. Still, we have eight years together, and I need to hear him out.

“Peter… you understand I’m broken because I love another man,” I say softly, knowing that’s going to hurt.

He winces but nods. “I get that. But you loved me once, didn’t you?”

“Very much,” I admit.

“Then come home with me and let me see if I can get that back. I’ll take it slow if you want. You set the pace. But come with me and let me take care of you the way you deserve. If nothing else, it will give you a safe place away from bad memories. If you do nothing more than just heal, it will make me feel good to help you do that.”

The timing of Peter’s visit couldn’t be better. The timing couldn’t be worse. He’s caught me at the lowest point of my life, and he offers me a life raft. I did love Peter very much. I love Alex so much more.

But of the two loves of my life, there’s only one standing before me offering to help heal my broken heart.

I give Peter’s hand a squeeze. “It’s a nice offer for a girl like me.”

“But?”

“But even if you and I fix everything that you broke by the way you asked me to leave, there’s still a fundamental difference between us.”

Peter looks genuinely perplexed. “What’s that?”

“Children,” I say simply.

“Children?” he repeats, as if he doesn’t understand the concept.

“You don’t want them,” I remind him.

“Who said I don’t want them?” he returns, and my jaw just drops open.

“Peter,” I say with disbelief. “After I miscarried, you were relieved because you weren’t ready. And you’ve always disliked kids. Whenever we’re around other kids, you’re always complaining about them.”

Understanding dawns like the sunlight of a new day on Peter’s face, but then his look turns a bit reproachful. “Jasmine… you and I haven’t really had a serious discussion about this, but let’s talk about it now. I wasn’t relieved when you miscarried. I was saddened, but I’ll admit I was scared shitless to have kids at that point in my life. I wasn’t ready to be a parent. I wanted to be a husband first, and figured kids would come later. Much, much later. And yes, I’ve complained about other kids because those other kids have been assholes. I would hope we wouldn’t raise an asshole.”

I’m floored again by what he’s telling me. “But I was so sure…”

“We’ve never talked about it, have we?” he asks.

“Well, no.”

“Then don’t assume,” he chides.

“So you want kids?” I ask, because I’m just not believing this.

His words are careful and measured. “I can’t say it’s at the top of my agenda, but I figured I’d have kids someday. It’s the circle of life, right?”

“But do you want kids with me?” I press him. “You can barely stomach having sex with me—”

“That’s not true,” he interrupts harshly and brings a hand up to hold my jaw so I don’t turn my gaze. “I said that to push you away. Things may have gotten a little dull in our bed, but don’t think it was just you. It was me, too. Baby… I thought the grass was greener, and yeah… I pushed you away to try it. And it’s not greener. It was awful without you, and I figure… sex should be a fucking easy problem to fix, right?”

God, the thought of having sex with Peter feels wrong to me in every way. Not because it couldn’t be good, but because my heart is with someone else. Even if I were to give my marriage a shot, I’m not sure I can give him that part of myself.

“Peter… when I tell you I’m in love with another man, it means not just soul, but body.”

Unmitigated pain fills Peter’s eyes, and that hurts me. I don’t like hurting anyone.

But he nods and with the patience of a saint, he says, “I’ll wait for you to give that to me then. Come home with me, and there will be no expectations on my part for anything. All you need to do is let me help you forget about this heartbreak. Let’s give our marriage a shot.”

My eyes slide over and look at my computer where I’ve been desperately trying to escape my pain by moving across the country. It’s not something I really wanted, but I figured running far away and starting fresh would help.

But maybe all I need to do is run to Los Angeles, where I could be back in comfortable surroundings with a man who seems to be willing to let me figure things out at my own pace. I’m so fucking tired and drained, I’m not sure how I can say no to his offer.

I look back to him and take in the genuine desire on his face to make things right with us. With a squeeze to his hand, I say, “I can’t promise you anything. I’m not even sure I have the strength to try. But as long as you know I’m all kinds of fucked up in the head and don’t know what I’m doing or what I even want anymore, then I’ll accept. Just know… if I can’t move past Alex, I’ll be honest with you.”

“That’s all I can ask, Jas,” Peter tells me, and then he leans forward and brushes a chaste kiss on my lips.

I’m not going to lie.

It feels good.