Jaime
Their voices are low, but they’re still carrying through to the living room. My mom, dad, brother, and sister are all in there, having a conversation about me. They think they’re being covert about it.
“She’s been lying on that couch all day, just staring at the ceiling,” my mom whispers, maternal worry thick in her voice.
“She watched some of the Raiders’ game,” Brian points out in a low murmur. “So, she’s not exactly catatonic.”
“And she did brush her hair.” Laney would be the one to notice something like that.
“Well, I don’t like it,” my father adds his own two cents, also in a harsh whisper. “She’s clearly depressed.”
That actually makes me smile—my father assessing my mental fortitude.
I suppose they might be a little freaked out. After all, I got kidnapped yesterday and rescued by late evening. They discovered I was secretly married, and I found out after they did that my husband wasn’t who I thought he was. When we left the FBI station, I asked if I could stay at their house for a few days.
Mom and Dad had exchanged a worried look because I’ve always been the independent one. While their home is open to any of their kids—as evidenced by their adult son living in their basement—my request to stay with them indicated I wasn’t in a good headspace.
Of course, another reason I wanted to stay at my parents’ was that Cage had been blowing up my phone with texts and voicemails, reiterating his apologies and begging for some time to talk. I deleted every single one. At one point, my finger actually hovered over the button that would block him.
But I hadn’t.
We went to my childhood home, and I slept in the old bedroom I shared with Laney. Back then, we had twin beds with matching white comforters with eyelet embroidery around the edge. Our mom had made them for us.
The twin beds are long gone, and there’s just a pull-out couch. My mom uses it for her sewing room now, having moved all her fabrics and her machine up from the basement to give Brian a place to sleep. I was so tired last night, I didn’t even bother pulling the couch out. I threw a sheet over it, pulled a blanket over myself, and dropped into a dead sleep that was devoid of any dreams or nightmares. My mind and body were exhausted from a whirlwind week, starting in Vegas, culminating in an unplanned and spontaneous marriage, followed by a kidnapping, and ending with the knowledge my husband is not who he said he was.
When I awoke this morning, my first thought was of Cage, and it was through a haze of sadness and uncertainty. I’m still so angry. At some point, I know I’ll have to give him a chance to say his piece. The question is whether I’ll ever accept anything he has to say.
I have no clue why I feel so betrayed. It’s not like he hid a secret family, a sordid criminal past, or a drug addiction.
He lied about his job.
Most, like my mother, would say “big whoop.”
But damn if it doesn’t bother me way down deep, and I think a lot of it is because I feel like the world’s biggest idiot for marrying a man who suckered me. It feels worse than betrayal because part of this is my fault for being so damn gullible in believing we had a real connection.
The fact he lied in the first place and didn’t correct it meant that everything built upon it was a sham.
“Dinner’s going to be ready in about five minutes,” my mom calls from the kitchen. It’s dead silent in there, all waiting for me to respond.
I attempt a cheery voice as I call back, “Awesome. I’m starved.”
But I’m really not. My stomach is knotted, and my chest aches.
My mom starts giving orders to Laney and Brian to set the table, and my dad meanders back into the living room. I go ahead and sit up to make a show to him that I’m okay. When he gives me a tentative smile, I level one back at him so overly bright I know it looks fake.
“Your mom made rigatoni marinara… your favorite,” he says, shifting from foot to foot. He seems uncomfortable, perhaps fearful I’ll have a breakdown on his watch. Dad was always the one we played with, and he helped us with schoolwork. Mom was the one who nursed our wounds and held our secrets.
“I can smell it,” I reply with a chuckle. My stomach growls in response, a pointed reminder I’ve yet to eat today despite my mom trying to tempt me with some delicacy every half hour.
When the doorbell rings, my dad turns that way, saying, “I’ll get it.”
I frown because he doesn’t seem startled by an unexpected visitor. A tingle snakes up my spine, a sneaking suspicion something isn’t right. It’s confirmed when my dad opens the door to show Cage there. His eyes come right to mine, and he looks determined.
“What’s he doing here?” I ask. My dad steps back from the door in a silent invitation. Cage takes the offer, steps up over the threshold, and gives my dad a nod.
“Your mom invited him to have dinner with us tonight,” Dad answers.
Irritation sweeps through me. I’m going to give my meddling mother a piece of my mind. I cross my arms over my chest. “Well, throw him out, Dad. I’ve got nothing to say to him.”
My voice isn’t hushed or whispered like the conversations that have been going on around me today. Laney, Brian, and my mom come out of the kitchen when they hear me, but all three smile at Cage.
“I invited him too,” my dad replies, his voice firm and brooking no argument. “So I won’t be tossing him out.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Brian jumps in. “Come on, Jaime. Give him a chance.”
I shoot my brother a hard glare because I’m still sore at him for getting me in this mess, but I can’t say I’m surprised. He’s taken with Cage for not only rescuing me, but also because he apparently has some contacts with the DA’s office through his boss, and they might be able to work something out for Brian to avoid jail time.
My gaze moves to Laney, but she merely holds a fist up in solidarity. It says she’s on my side no matter what I want. I give my attention to my mother, who merely stares back at me with empathy. She knows I’m struggling and she wants me to be happy, but since she invited Cage, it means she has some romantic notions we should work things out.
Finally, I turn back to Cage. I hate that I notice just how damn handsome he is. He has dark circles under his eyes, which are proof he didn’t sleep well last night. Otherwise, he looks yummy dressed in jeans, a sweater, and a well-fitted peacoat that’s covered with a dusting of snow, which had started to fall about an hour ago.
God… when he crashed through the warehouse window last night, he’d been like a modern-day superhero. Swinging on that rope, bursting in with confidence and surety as if he did that maneuver weekly. When he’d knelt before me, I couldn’t help but notice the tight black t-shirt, black fatigue pants, and military boots. Muscles bulging, he’d been strapped with weapons, death in his eyes. At that moment, I hadn’t been able to think of anything other than how ungodly handsome he looked.
Me being pissed off came a bit later, and it hasn’t diminished yet.
My inclination is to grab my coat and purse, haughtily tell my parents that while they’re free to invite Cage to their dinner table, I have the freedom to choose not to sit there with him, then flounce out the door. I could retreat to the sanctity of my apartment where Cage wouldn’t be allowed in.
Cage regards me with determination and hope. He’s not going to be easy to put off, but it occurs to me that as long as he’s surrounded by my family, he’s not going to have the chance to beg, grovel, and plead his case to me. We’ll have to keep the conversation light around the dinner table. He won’t be able to delve into our relationship issues and I can keep quiet, knowing no one will force me to participate.
The smile that curls my lips up is almost triumphant. I lift my chin at Cage, giving him a hard look, then turn to my mother. “Dinner smells great. Let’s eat.”
I head into the kitchen without a backward glance. No one says a word, but I soon hear shuffling feet as the others follow me into the kitchen.
Mom sets the huge bowl of pasta covered in a fragrant sauce—heavy on tomatoes, peppers, and onions—in the middle of the table. Laney pulls a salad out of the fridge, and I nab three bottles of different salad dressing before closing the door. Dad and Brian sit at the table, and Cage looks uncertain where to sit. I suspect he’s waiting to see where I sit, but my dad points to a chair and Cage takes it.
Pointedly, I move to the other side and sit at the far end, while Mom and Laney settle into their chairs.
There’s total and awkward silence for a moment until my mom says, “Dig in, everyone.”
More silence as we load our plates, pass condiments, and fill glasses with homemade lemonade.
“So, Cage,” my dad says as he ignores the salad he put on his side plate and digs into his meal. “Tell us a little about yourself.”
Forks pause, all eyes going to Cage, including mine. He puts his utensil down, scanning the table before resting his gaze on me. Then an easy smile splits his face, and he shrugs. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
“Where did you get your mad secret-agent skills?” Brian asks, sounding like a teenager enamored with Captain America.
Cage laughs. “First, I’m not a secret agent. Second—”
“It was a secret to me,” I say flatly, not even realizing those words of accusation were going to pop out of my mouth.
His green eyes dim, turning regretful. But I don’t get an apology. Instead, he asks, “You really want to do this here? Now?’
“No,” I mutter, looking down at my plate. I don’t want to get into it with him period, because I’m afraid he’s going to suck me in again. I’m worried I’ll fall for his pretty words and even prettier face.
Cage turns back to Brian, continuing as if our little exchange didn’t happen. “As I said, I’m not a secret agent. I do work for a private contract company that performs many dangerous missions that make use of my particular skillsets.”
“Skillsets?” my dad asks, but I don’t look up from my plate. I concentrate on repeatedly putting fork to mouth as I listen.
“I was in the Navy,” Cage says, and I have to resist the urge to pop my head up in curiosity. “A Navy SEAL, to be exact.”
“No way,” Brian says, the hero worship clear in his voice.
“That’s impressive,” my dad adds.
I risk a glance over at Laney. Giving me a small smile, she raises her fist again to show me that none of this impresses her. She’s on my side all the way.
For the next half hour, my mom, dad, and brother throw a steady barrage of questions at Cage, and he answers them all. In that time, I learn more about my husband than I have in the six and a half weeks we’ve been together.
Without the boundaries of his stupid lie, Cage talks freely and candidly about his life and career. And while it admittedly makes me curious, it also just pisses me off more. I should have been privy to this information before he married me. Not that it would have made me look at him any differently, and it certainly wouldn’t have stopped me from marrying him.
But it’s important stuff, and he should have been completely transparent with me before we tied the knot.
Throughout it all, I don’t say a word, but I don’t need to. Cage doesn’t address me at all, but merely proceeds to charm my family.
Except for Laney. She’s still with me, and I can tell by the way she glares at him.
After dinner, Laney and I jump up to do the dishes while everyone else chats around the table.
As we stand at the kitchen sink, side by side, she bumps my shoulder with hers and leans into me. “You ready to make a run for it?”
I glance over my shoulder, seeing my parents laughing at something Cage said. He doesn’t look my way. I whisper back, “I’m so ready.”
After the last dish is dried and put away, Laney spins around and announces, “I need to get going, and I’m going to give Jaime a ride back to her apartment.”
My mom looks disappointed, yet I can also see understanding in the sad smile. Cage’s lips press flat, and I can see he was hoping for some one-on-one time with me.
“You’ll be here Wednesday night, right?” my mom asks.
Wednesday is Christmas Eve. We’ve always had dinner together as a family, before exchanging presents and attending midnight Mass. My parents are still devout Catholics who attend church every Sunday.
“Of course I will,” I manage to say, avoiding Cage as I smile at my mom and dad in turn before Laney and I head for the door.
“We need to talk,” Cage calls. “Tomorrow.”
“Busy tomorrow,” I flippantly reply.
“Then, the day after.” His voice follows me as Laney and I make it to the front door.
“Busy then, too.”
When Laney giggles, I grin at her.
He doesn’t say anything in response, so I open the door and usher Laney ahead of me. Just as I’m about to shut it behind me, he gets in the last word. It sends a chill up my spine. “You’re my wife, Jaime.” There’s nothing but grit and determination in his voice. “And you cannot hide from me.”