Angie had made a decision, and she firmly believed that’s why her days seemed to run along more smoothly. Not a lot more smoothly, but a little, and that made for a much lighter mood. With Hope gone and Keith even more self-absorbed than usual, she didn’t have many allies at the office in whom she could confide, but that was okay. With any luck, she wouldn’t be there a whole lot longer. She just needed to set up some time to talk with Keith. Once he heard her pitch, she was pretty sure she’d be on the path to a new, better, more profitable and less stressful working environment.
She felt good.
Now, if she could get her life at home to be as balanced, things would be perfect.
She had yet to tell Jillian about her plans, mostly because it never felt like the right time. The last thing Angie wanted to do was cheerfully suggest, “Hey, let’s talk about me!” It felt like it’d been weeks since she’d even seen Jillian smile. She knew avoidance wasn’t the best way to deal with the issue, but she wasn’t good with conflict, and when Jillian was like this, flying under the radar just seemed best.
It was coming up on the anniversary of Jillian’s mother’s death. She was pretty sure that was what was bothering her. Every year at this time, Jillian got a little quieter, a little more pensive. The ornery part was new, but Angie tried to shrug it off.
Maybe she’d leave the whole new job thing as a surprise. Maybe she wouldn’t say anything to Jillian until she knew it was all going to work. Plus, if Keith didn’t go for it and everything fell through, Hope said getting her an interview at Star would be a piece of cake. So either way, she was making a change, getting out of Logo Promo. Any way she sliced it, things would be better. That would make Jillian happy.
“Honey, I’m home,” she called out as she walked into the house. It was still so quiet without Boo. Angie wondered if it was time to suggest doing something about that. Jillian’s keys were on the counter and the top of her blonde head was visible out the kitchen window. Angie followed the scent of her perfume and found her partner sitting on the deck in the fresh air, a glass of white wine in her hand.
“Hi.” Jillian’s greeting sounded normal, but her blue eyes registered a very subtle sadness that Angie was sure nobody else would catch. “You’re home early.”
Angie shrugged. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Jillian said with a gentle scoff.
“I know. Can I join you?”
“Sure.”
After kicking off her work shoes and pouring herself a glass of wine, Angie joined Jillian on the deck, taking the wicker chair next to her. “How was your day?” she asked, then took a sip.
Jillian took a deep breath, as if answering the question was going to take a lot of effort on her part. “Fine. Yours?”
“Not bad.” She went on to tell Jillian all about the orders she’d written, closed, or delivered. She talked about Jeremy’s newest rules and Keith’s latest hundred thousand-dollar order. Mostly, she talked to fill the silence because she knew if she let the silence be, she’d feel the need to deal with it, and she just wasn’t sure she was up for that.
Coward, the voice in her head accused. Just ask her what’s wrong.
It bothered Angie to no end that she’d become filled with trepidation about her own relationship. She’d spent many sleepless nights trying to pinpoint exactly when she’d become hesitant to talk openly with her wife. She kept coming back to Boo and the day she died. Not only had she failed to be there for Jillian during a traumatic time, but she knew she’d failed. Since then, she’d been treading carefully, hoping to skate along until things improved. It was taking much longer than she expected.
“I’m going to go take a bath,” Jillian said, pulling Angie out of her head. “My period’s due any day now and my back is killing me.”
“Okay.” Angie forced a smile. “A good, hot soak should help. Need anything?”
“Nope. I got it.”
“Did you eat?”
“I’m not really hungry. There’s some leftover chicken in the fridge if you want that.” She left Angie sitting alone on the deck.
Angie looked out onto their backyard for a long while. The songbirds in the evergreens at the edge of the yard chirped and tweeted to one another. A dog barked in the distance. All these things should have served to relax her, but instead, she just felt tense, like a jungle cat ready to spring.
With a sigh, she went into the kitchen to refill her wine glass. The cheerfully musical ringtone of Jillian’s cell phone caused Angie to pull her head out of the fridge, where she was looking for food. A glance at the screen told her it was her mother.
“Hey, Mama.”
There was a pause, and Angie smiled as she pictured her mother checking the phone in her hand to make sure she dialed the correct number. “Angie?”
“Yup. Jillian’s in the tub, so I grabbed her phone. What’s up?”
“Well, if I’d wanted to talk to you, I would have dialed your number, don’t you think?”
“Looking for birthday ideas, are you?” Angie was sure her smug face came through in her voice.
“None of your business. Jillian and I have other things to talk about besides your birthday. Have her call me when she’s done.”
“Something expensive,” Angie said loudly into the phone as her mother hung up. As she went to set it down, a beep sounded indicating a text message.
Jillian tried to be soothed by the hot water but she still felt tense, like all of her muscles were rubber bands stretched to the limit. She closed her eyes, willed herself to just breathe, but the tension wouldn’t go away.
A light knock on the door had her opening her eyes again. Angie peered around the door with a smile.
“My mom just called your phone.”
“Did you answer it?”
“Yeah, I saw her number, so I picked it up. I’m sure she wants to know what to get me for my birthday. I told her you’d call her back.” She handed the phone to Jillian. “You also got a text.”
Jillian’s heart started to pound. “From who?”
Angie gave an offhand shrug. “No idea. I didn’t check.” She closed the door as she left, and Jillian tried to be quiet about the breath she released. Quickly pushing some buttons, she called up the most recent text. It was from Lindsey.
I’m worried about you.
Another had come a minute later.
We need to talk about what happened.
Jillian typed quickly. No. We don’t. She hit the volume button so the beep of the incoming text could not be heard, but it came in a matter of seconds.
Jillian. Please talk to me.
Jillian squeezed her eyes shut.
Hello?
Jillian sent another message. Stop texting me.
Lindsey’s response took a bit longer this time. I need you to talk to me. And you need it too. I know you felt the same way that I did.
Jillian’s thumbs moved over the tiny keyboard. We made a mistake. It never should have happened. Please. Just leave it alone.
Without waiting for a response this time, she deleted the entire conversation and then shut the phone off completely.
It happened again three days later.
This time, things became hot and heavy before Jillian even had time to think. She’d wandered down to Lindsey’s office after hours with every intention of talking to her about a student. Since she’d been avoiding the phys ed teacher for two days, she’d decided she at least owed her a conversation. She had an entire speech prepared, one that listed all the reasons why what they’d done was wrong and wouldn’t happen again. With a deep breath to fill her lungs, she knocked on the doorjamb. Lindsey looked so happy to see her, it was almost pathetic. Lindsey invited her in to her tiny, windowless office, shut and locked the door behind her, and the next thing Jillian knew, she was sitting on Lindsey’s desk, Lindsey’s tongue was in her mouth, Lindsey’s hand was under her skirt, and Jillian was holding on for dear life as she buried her face in Lindsey’s sweatshirt to muffle her groans of pleasure.
When they were finished, Jillian quickly straightened her clothes.
“I like the skirt,” Lindsey commented, looking far too pleased with herself.
“Thanks.” Jillian finger-combed her hair, reached for the doorknob.
“Want to go get something to eat?” Lindsey asked.
Jillian blinked at her for a moment before saying simply, “No. I don’t think so. Thank you.” She pulled the door open and left.
They say the third time’s the charm.
Such was the case for Jillian.
It was once again after hours. They were in her room, door shut and locked, blinds all closed tightly. Lindsey had wasted no time making her move, and Jillian found herself yet again seated on a desk with Lindsey standing snugly tucked between Jillian’s knees. They were kissing deeply, but Jillian’s thoughts were screaming so loudly in her head, she was surprised Lindsey couldn’t hear them.
Stop it. Why are you doing this? Why do you continue to do this?
Jillian had no answer.
You don’t even touch her. You have no desire to touch her. Does that mean nothing to you?
Again, no answer was forthcoming, but Jillian’s attention was caught this time. It was true. This was the third time in as many weeks that Jillian had caved in to Lindsey’s physical persuasion, but it was the first time it occurred to her how alarmingly one-sided things were.
As Lindsey’s deft fingers slipped beneath the hem of Jillian’s shirt and touched the bare skin of her belly, Jillian wrenched their mouths apart.
“Wait,” she said, her breath ragged.
Lindsey was persistent, moving from Jillian’s mouth to the side of her neck. “Wait for what?” she murmured.
Jillian craned her neck away and pushed gently at Lindsey’s shoulders. “Just wait. Stop.”
Lindsey pulled back, her hands gripping Jillian’s waist, and blinked a few times to clear the haze of arousal from her eyes. She looked expectantly at Jillian.
“Lindsey,” Jillian began, then paused to clear her throat and swallow. “This isn’t right.”
Lindsey scoffed. “No kidding. If you’d just come home with me, we could do it in an actual bed.”
“No. No, that’s not what I mean.” She held Lindsey’s gaze, knew exactly when Lindsey got what she was saying.
“But . . .” Lindsey looked down, the first sign of emotion Jillian had seen from her passing across her face. “We’re good together.”
Jillian took a deep breath. “You are amazing,” she said, and she meant it. “And I am . . . so flattered that you feel the way you do.”
“Flattered, huh?” Lindsey grimaced. “That’s rarely a word you want to hear from the woman you’ve been making love to.”
“I love Angie,” Jillian said quietly, and for the first time in months, realized it was the absolute truth. “I love Angie, and I can’t keep doing this.”
“How would she feel if she found out?” Lindsey said sharply, challenging her.
But Jillian knew the threat was halfhearted. She looked at her until Lindsey’s expression turned to one of guilt, and she looked away.
“I’m not going to tell her,” Lindsey said grudgingly.
“I know. I’m going to.”
Lindsey’s gaze snapped back to her. “You are?”
“I have to. It’s killing me. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’ve lost weight—which isn’t necessarily a bad thing—but she’s been looking at me with concern, and it just crushes me. She knows something’s wrong, but I think she’s afraid to talk to me. So it’s up to me.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
They were quiet for a long moment. Jillian looked up at Lindsey, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re pretty wonderful, you know that?”
“Not wonderful enough, though.”
Jillian smiled sadly. “You’ll be okay.”
Lindsey nodded. “I will. I hope this works out the way you want.”
Jillian swallowed hard. “So do I.”
“Can we talk?”
That’s how it started. Angie actually looked relieved, which was ridiculous, since it wasn’t a question that was usually followed by good news. But she sat down at the kitchen table across from Jillian, who’d already begun to crinkle a napkin in her hand.
They sat quietly as Jillian tried to think of the right way to begin.
“Are you leaving me?” Angie asked softly.
Jillian’s eyes snapped up. “What? No. No, of course not. But . . .”
“But?” Angie’s eyebrows raised and her brown eyes widened slightly as her face creased with worry.
“I . . . did something.” Jillian tried to swallow, but it didn’t seem to help. Her stomach was churning, and she realized with horror that throwing up was a distinct possibility.
Angie shook her head, confused. “You did something. What does that mean?”
“I . . . did something. Something stupid.”
Angie continued to stare, but the tinge of dread was there in her eyes.
“I made a mistake.” God, just say it, Jillian, her head screamed. But her tongue continued to stumble over words that weren’t saying what needed to be said.
“What kind of mistake?” Angie’s voice was just above a whisper, and Jillian was suddenly clear on the old adage: The wife always knows. Angie knew what she was going to say, but was waiting for her to say it. Jillian’s fingers worked of their own accord, shredding the napkin to tiny little bits of paper, even as her voice box decided to stop working.
“Are you having an affair?” Angie asked quietly.
Jillian had no idea five simple words could hold so much pain. She looked up, wished she hadn’t when she saw the anguish on Angie’s face.
“No.” Adamantly, she shook her head. “No. It’s over.”
“So, you did have an affair.”
Did three times constitute an affair? She asked herself the question mentally before closing her eyes at the absurdity of it. Yes. Any extramarital sex constituted an affair. She nodded her head slowly.
“With who?” Angie’s voice had gone steely. The anger was setting in. Why shouldn’t it?
Jillian was hesitant to answer, though she didn’t know why. Turned out, she didn’t have to.
“It’s that gym teacher, isn’t it? The one you spend so much time with? God, I’m so stupid. How did I not see that coming?”
Jillian gnawed on the inside of her cheek, no idea what to say. Angie’s beautiful face had flushed red, and her hands were shaking. But it was the tears in her eyes that made Jillian’s heart twist. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice a strangled whisper.
“How long? How long has it been going on?”
Jillian shook her head. “Not long. A couple weeks. And it’s over.”
“Oh, good.” The sarcasm was thick and heavy. “I’m so glad you spread your legs for somebody else for not very long and now it’s over.”
“Angie—”
Angie held up her hand, cutting Jillian off as she looked away. The tears spilled down her cheeks. When she looked back, the pain etched across her face was almost too much for Jillian to bear. Angie asked simply, “Why?”
Jillian’s eyes welled too as she looked away. Her throat closed, making words next to impossible.
“Why, Jillian? I don’t understand.”
There wasn’t a good way to explain it. Jillian could barely explain it to herself. How was she supposed to make Angie see what she’d been feeling for months now, years even?
“God damn it, I deserve an explanation, don’t I?” Angie slapped the table, making Jillian jump.
A tear cleared Jillian’s bottom eyelid and left a wet trail down her face.
“Don’t I give you enough?” Angie stood suddenly and started pacing in the small room. “Haven’t I given you everything I can? Haven’t I? I work my ass off, Jill. For you. For us. I work constantly.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?”
“You throwing your work in my face. I have a job, too, you know. I work hard too, just like you.” This was not the direction the conversation should be taking, and Jillian knew it, but she couldn’t stop.
“Do you think I want to not be here for you? Do you think I like working eighty hours a week?”
“I don’t know, Angie. Don’t you? You’re not responsible for supporting me, but you act like you are, like I’m some kept housewife who needs your paycheck to survive. That’s your view, not mine. I don’t need you to take care of me. This is supposed to be a partnership.”
“I’m not the one fucking somebody else!”
Jillian flinched at the crude words. “It just happened.” She wanted to put all the blame on Lindsey, but knew she couldn’t, that she’d be lying.
“Well, that makes me feel so much better.”
“I didn’t mean for it to. I swear. It just happened.”
“How? How does that ‘just happen’?” Angie sneered, her anger ratcheting up, her eyes narrowing. “Did you trip and fall into her vagina? Did you walk into her by mistake and your tongue just happened to slip into her mouth? How does something like that ‘just happen’?”
There was no explaining. She knew it. Angie was too angry—rightfully so—and Jillian didn’t know what to say.
“It ‘just happened.’ Please. Give me a break. That line is such a load of bullshit.” Angie was still doing a weird form of pacing while she muttered in disgust. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’d be so reckless.” She stopped moving then and threw her hands up. “Christ, I can’t believe you’re that easy.”
Jillian’s head snapped up then. Angie had a right to be angry, she knew. But insulting?
“And she’s practically a kid. Isn’t she, like, ten years younger than you? Were you sucked in by that? Her youth? What was it?”
Jillian rubbed at her forehead.
“Was it her hot little bod? Was that it? Couldn’t resist the gym teacher? Were you playing out some old schoolgirl fantasy?”
Jillian clenched her jaw.
“I don’t get it, Jillian. Seriously. I don’t get it. What did she do for you?”
Jillian snapped. “She noticed me, Angie! She noticed me. She wanted me. She really wanted me, and she let me know it. When was the last time you did?”
Angie stood perfectly still.
Jillian closed her eyes, knowing a line had been crossed. A truthful one, but a line just the same. When she opened her eyes again, Angie was gone from the room. She could hear her stomp up the stairs, drawers slamming in the bedroom. More stomping around, and then Angie was down the stairs and out the door before Jillian could even bring herself to stand up. Instead, she stayed sitting, and sobbed like she’d just lost her best friend.
Because she was pretty sure she had.