Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
“Very.”
“I’m sorry, Jaye. I know how you feel about the phone and-”
“It’s not just about me not being able to get in contact when I need you! What if something was wrong with our kids, Archer?! What if they needed you?! Had that fucking thought crossed your mind during your ‘special work project’?!”
“I…That…” Culpability causes his shoulders to sag. “No. I just assumed-”
“Don’t fucking assume, Archer! Anything can happen at any given time with zero fucking warning!”
His mouth begins to move but abruptly stops.
Twists to one side.
The other.
He takes an additional wordless moment before finally speaking again. “It’s supposed to sleet in the next couple of days, isn’t it?”
My own guilt regarding the topic has me slinking further into the lukewarm water.
“Is this shouting at me shit really about that or me not answering a call?”
“Several fucking calls and a few texts!” His hardened expression doesn’t change forcing me to grumble, “And yeah, if I’m being completely honest with myself, sleet still and will probably for the rest of my life make me uneasy especially now that I have kids and a husband that I love a million times more than the person I almost married once upon a time. And yeah, I know, that’s not fair to you or y’all or whatever, but you know that I’m this way. And you know why I’m this way. And you know my first instinct is to panic. And-”
“Sweetheart,” my husband gingerly interrupts during his stroll over, “breathe.”
Against my own volition I suck in a deep breath.
The lowering himself to his knees beside the tub is done at the same time he apologizes, “I’m sorry you were worried.” He places a loving hand on the top of my wet knee. “And I’m sorry I was careless with my phone. I do know better. It’s just been…a crazy couple of weeks and my mind is in a million places, but…that’s on me.” His thumb delivers a loving stroke. “You shouldn’t have to suffer because I’ve got more on my plate than I wanna admit.”
Instinct to comfort him swiftly replaces outrage. “Can I help with anything? I mean I know I don’t work there, but sometimes an extra ear or eye makes all the difference. Remember that campaign blunder I helped fix?! I know how to be of assistance! Can I be?”
He presents me with a loving grin. “Not this time, sweetheart.”
Recalling what I saw earlier regarding our bank accounts doesn’t waste a second to tumble back to the front of my mind and off my tongue, “You’ve been making large and unusual purchases lately.”
The simple announcement has his hand retreating from my frame, fanning the unpleasant emotions lingering in the pit of my stomach.
“Do they have anything to do with your… ‘special work project’?”
“Yes.”
“Then why aren’t you making them on the company credit card?”
No answer.
“Okay, will the company be reimbursing you when it’s finished?”
He leans back onto his hunches.
Briefly looks away.
“Archer,” my stern teacher librarian voice takes hold, commanding his gaze to mine. “I need you to tell me something that will put the ‘My Husband is Cheating on Me’ book back on the relationship shelf. And I need you to do it now.”
Unmistakable hurt plasters itself in his green glare. “You think I’m cheating on you?”
“I logically know that you’d never hurt me like that-”
“I’d rather swallow a grenade.”
“However, the weird purchases – including hotel rooms and what appears to be shopping sprees – are all screaming a little too ‘start studying The First Wives Club’ movie too loud for me, baby.” My wet shoulders innocently bounce. “Give me something – anything – that will hush that voice until you can tell me what it is I know you want to yet can’t.”
He lets the corner of his lip tug upward and sings a line from the Otis Redding Christmas song we listen to every year. While hearing him croon about how he loves me – and for the rest of his life at that – explains nothing, it somehow simultaneously explains everything.
Whatever he’s up to is being done out of love. And as long as he’s acting out of love, I know that I don’t have anything to truly worry about. I just hope he lets me in on the secret sooner rather than later because at the rate we’re going our treasured gift of trust is becoming a bit fractured.
Chapter 6
Archer
Swiping the hotel keycard to grant me access to Jedd’s room is done only after knocking three times and receiving no answer.
Of course, I’m not just gonna fucking bust into the man’s room regardless of if I’m paying for it or not. He’s entitled to privacy. Less, however, when his ass stops answering my calls and texts and I’m supposed to be taking him into work during what I promised my family would be a ‘brief run to the office’. Yeah, I’ve been being…vague on purpose about all this shit, but this is why. What if he bails? What if the change from surviving to thriving is too much to fucking bear? What if he ditches this second chance? It’s not the craziest shit. I remember hearing in group therapy sessions about other people doing the exact same thing before really shifting mindsets. What if he's one of those? What if I have to look my wife and kids in the face and confess that I failed? That ‘Santa’ failed? I mean Jaye will get it, but they won’t. Not yet anyway. It’ll just kill part of the Christmas magic of miracles and I…I just can’t live with the idea. I don’t want to live with that.