Always Been Mine (2 page)

“Sam’s nine, Jo. He still wants his parents to get back together.” I didn’t blame the kid; I did, too. “When I talked to Becky she said I should ask you what you thought.”

“You already talked to Becky?”

“Of course I did." He looked at me like it was the most absurd question he'd ever been asked. "If she ever decides to do something stupid, like move

that loser in, I know she would talk it over with me

first.”

“Loser? Did she and the vet break up?”

He grinned, showing perfectly aligned white teeth, “Nope.”

I grinned back. “Some habits are just hard to break, huh?” I had adored Becky when they were married—but just like every other possession in a divorce, friends were split up evenly. Matty was the lucky party that got us. I still spoke to her every time I saw her, but it wasn’t the same. She was more reserved and it was very clear she knew my loyalty was with Matt. The last time I’d seen her she’d been out with her long-time partner. The ‘loser’ vet was anything but. He owned his own practice, was known for both his dedication to animals and for having a big heart, was easy on the eyes, and most importantly, adored Sam. I liked him instantly. Matt would find something wrong with a saint if that saint were dating his ex-wife.

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”

“About the vet? Or about you getting married?” He tipped his head slightly, giving me an annoyed look. “I think getting married because you want your girlfriend to feel secure or because you want

to prove you’re not going to leave her when the next floosy comes along is just plain stupid. It’s something you would have done in your twenties.”

He graciously ignored my floosy comment. “I’m not getting married tomorrow. I’m talking about getting engaged. That way she will know that I’m committed, but we’ll have plenty of time to work out the kinks.”

Kinks? Hmmm… it sounded like they had more than a few kinks to work out, but I was really the last person to judge. The waitress appeared at our table, handed out our food and after making sure we were all set, left just as quietly as she’d come. I watched her go, making sure she was far enough away to not hear us.

“I didn’t know you were having trouble.” He dove into his eggs; I was sure he was going to ignore me.

“It’s over stupid shit.” He took another bite. “You piss her off.”

“Me?” I almost dropped my fork. “What in the hell did I do this time?”

He chuckled. “Well, we piss her off. We spend too much time together and she gets insecure.”

Ah. Yep. That made sense. Same old argument. “Hmmm. I thought her attitude had changed now

that we don’t do the Saturday morning stuff.” Saturday mornings used to be spent at the local Y. While the kids had swim lessons or a baseball clinic, the two of us would use the cardio room, go for a run, or sit and have coffee. He’d brought Taylor once. After that, Becky had started to bring Sam, even on his dad's weekends. Matty might pick him up, but Taylor was always with him. Her argument had been that she felt like a third wheel, which she was, and that I got to see him enough.

“Yeah, well, now she says I’m in a bad mood every weekend.”

“That’s my fault, how?”

He shrugged, “It’s the only two days of the week I don’t see you.”

That made no sense. I frowned into my omelet. “We talk all the time on the weekends, though.”

“Yeah. She doesn’t know that.”

I laughed at him. “No wonder I piss her off. I’m your dirty little secret.” I was teasing, moving my shoulders, my tone light.

His head snapped up, sky blue eyes finding mine. “You are.” He had his serious look, the usual crooked smile and twitching lip gone. He looked almost sad as he watched me. I didn’t see this side

of him very often, and I couldn’t look away. "Well,

one of them anyway." He gave me his killer smile.

He must not have shaved last night; a dark five o’clock shadow ran along the sides of his square jawbone and chin. There was a small rectangle of thicker, darker hair below the middle of his bottom lip. His heart shaped lips weren’t full enough to be feminine, but they were just pouty enough to make most women ache to kiss him. The indent above his upper lip was pronounced and led to a perfectly centered, long, thin nose. When you looked at him from the side, you could see a little bump right between his eyes where it had been broken when he was younger. From my view, though, all I could see was a straight line to his eyes. Black lashes that would make any woman jealous surrounded hooded eyes. Dark thick eyebrows topped each bright blue eye; those eyes were peering at me now. The left side of his forehead creased slightly as he watched me study him.

He looked like a Greek god. A Greek God I wanted to do unholy things with. The thought came out of nowhere and my heart started to pound as I realized exactly what I was thinking. I

looked down at the table, hoping he couldn't see my thoughts. This was
Matt! I could deny it all I

wanted, but the truth was that I was extremely

attracted to him. I bit the inside of my cheek trying to figure out if I always had been attracted to him. He was pretty, sure, but he was my person. The one I could always count on and trusted more than anyone. Wow. I needed more sleep. When I glanced back up he was still looking at me with a concerned look.

“You really are beautiful.” Awesome. Open mouth, insert foot. But, it was the first thought I had.

The lips moved into his crooked smile. “I know.” His voice was husky and for a second all I could focus on was his smile. He laughed, breaking the spell. “Where’d that come from?” I shook my head. “I think your ability to say whatever is on your mind is my favorite thing about you, Josephine.” He grinned again, shaking his head. “It’s good genetics, Joes, that’s all.” He ran his hand down his cheek, rubbing his chin. “Poor Sam.”

I raised an eyebrow. Poor Sam? Other than having his mom’s brown eyes and dimples, Sam was the spitting image of his dad. Matty nodded. “It’s hard to be this pretty. It’s a ton of work to maintain.” He was joking, but I knew for a fact how much effort he put into staying fit. “Plus, he

doesn’t have a Jo in his corner to talk him through

everything. How does one survive without a Jo?”

Yep. He always knew just what to say, the bastard. I was as bad as the other women he had eating out of his hands. “Do you love her?”

He took the last bite of his egg, nodding. “Yeah, I do.”

“What about a promise ring?”

His eyebrows raised and he gave me his smirk. “I’m an adult Jo, not a teenager who doesn’t want his girlfriend sleeping around.”

I rolled my eyes. But, he had a point. Will had been right; who was I to say that someone Matty loved wasn’t good enough? “If you love her, and really want to marry her, and it isn’t for some other reason, then you should ask her.” Go ahead. Give her the validation she clearly needs.

He beamed at me. “You really are the best friend ever.” His knee bumped mine once again, this time moving away from my side of the table.

The rain had disappeared by the time I left work, but my mood had gotten worse. I couldn’t shake it off—I wasn’t sure I wanted to. It didn’t bother me any if I snapped at everyone that got within a two foot radius. My head was pounding—lack of sleep, lack of caffeine, or too much of Matty’s obnoxiousness; whatever the culprit, ibuprofen wasn’t touching it. I needed to go home and sleep.
Home.

My heart started to race and I felt the panic rise. I couldn’t go home. Will was at the house and the kids were gone. I’d call them as soon as I got back to the hotel. Just hearing their voices would make everything better. But, it wouldn’t. Nothing was going to be ok again. We’d been through this before, and I’d told Will I could never do it again. I definitely couldn’t handle it a third time. I couldn’t trust him to not make the same mistake again. I didn’t know how to live without my family. No, I’d never have to live without my kids. It was Will…I didn’t know how to live without him.

Will and I had been together forever; at least it seemed that way. Seventeen was a lifetime ago for

a thirty-three year-old. As a senior in high school,

I’d been searching for colleges that were close enough to the people I loved, but far enough away so I could have the freedom I craved. Boston University was on the top of my list. The psychology program was decent and I loved to be in the city.

After my acceptance letter came, my parents insisted we go for a weekend visit and take the whole bells-and-whistles guided tour so they could ask embarrassing questions about crime rates and the probability that I would be flashed. I hadn’t dressed up, wearing jeans, a golden yellow tee shirt with a green and yellow plaid over it, and sneakers. My parents were furious, but I argued they didn’t understand late 90’s fashion. They had seemed to buy my argument until another family arrived at the meeting point with a teenager dressed in a black skirt, light purple sweater set, pearls, and stylish flats. My parents were debating whether we should leave so I didn’t embarrass them any further, when our tour guides walked in.

William Walker, or Billy, as he liked people to call him, was adorable; dressed in a red polo and khakis, he oozed charm out of every pore. His

smile lit up his whole face and my mother seemed

as taken with him as I was. He was the perfect

guide, giving my parents the attention they
needed, not laughing at any of their silly questions, and showing us everything we could have wanted to see. At lunch we discovered that he’d volunteered to take us around because he was from Maine, too, and missed home. He’d thrown me a wink when he reminisced about his own parents’ visit the year before. Later that afternoon the other guide took the parents to talk to the financial aid office, and Will took little miss Sweater Set and I for a walk.

I loved his laugh. It was deep and made his Adam’s apple bob. Sweater Set asked a ton of questions and for once, I was quiet, content just to watch him. His whole body changed when he talked about his life. The curly blonde hair bounced on his forehead when he moved, reminding me of an excited little boy. He loved living in Boston but wanted to move home after getting his degree in economics. He spent every second he could outdoors, mostly on the Charles River as a member of the BU Crew. He wanted to hike the full Appalachian Trail after he was done with school. And, he was single. He’d laughed when Sweater Set asked him that, telling us there was no time for girlfriends in rowing.

He asked us questions too, about our majors, what we planned to do after school, why we wanted to live in Boston. Sweater Set talked so much that I tuned her out and took in the sights and sounds around me. I couldn’t wait to move; the campus was beautiful and had a busy energetic current, like something important was going on at all times. I was happy to let her talk because I was the girl with the lame answers. I picked psych because people fascinated me. I didn’t know what I was going to be when I grew up. I wanted to come here to get the hell away from my parents and be surrounded by culture. When she did stop talking and Will coaxed my answers out, she scoffed. Will had smiled and told me it sounded like I was going to be a good fit.

By the time we got back to our parents, Sweater Set was practically throwing herself at him and I was mildly disappointed to realize he seemed interested. I got it. She was cute and little and bubbly. I was the chubby girl out of place in jeans and sneakers. When he said good-bye to my parents and turned to me, I was shocked that he asked for my phone number and email. He was

coming home for summer vacation and wanted to

know if we could get together because it would be

nice for me to have some friends before school

started.

He didn’t wait for summer, but emailed me a week later. We talked all spring. He was brilliant and funny and saw the world completely different than I did. He’d come to Maine for a few weekend trips and by the time high school graduation came, he had me and everyone I knew, wrapped around his finger. We spent the summer falling in love and talking about our future. We had nothing in common except our feelings for the other. We laughed because we were different from all the other couples we knew. There was no drama or games, no major fights in front of an audience. There was no great love story where one of us broke the other’s heart; we were a team that agreed to face the world together and talk through every problem that could arise. We were the boring couple, and we were both ok with that.

When we left for school in the fall everyone told me to not be upset if it didn’t work out, that summer relationships never last. He was 'a handsome and popular upperclassman,' after all, and I was 'the geeky freshman,' at least, those were my mom's words. Will was busy with school,

work and crew, and I was struggling to keep my

head above water, but he called me every night

before bed and woke me up every morning with a Dunkin coffee. Every weekend he would sneak me into his dorm, and while our friends partied the days away, we’d spent every second we could wrapped in each other’s arms talking about everything or nothing at all. Time flew.

There was never a question of if we would get married, just when we’d tie the knot. By the time Will was a senior everyone just assumed he’d ask me to be his wife. We had other plans, though. Will would take an internship in Boston and get an apartment close to campus so I could stay with him as much as possible while finishing my degree. After I graduated, we were going to take six months off to hike the Appalachians and then discover the continental states before settling back in Maine. Once we had our careers figured out, we’d talk about marriage.

May was rough for me that year. End of semester projects and prepping for finals had been brutal, and I was so run down that I caught every bug going around. To top that off, Will and I were struggling. I’d missed all of Will’s races and couldn’t go to any of the senior functions he’d

expected me to go to, and he was openly bitter

about my absences. I was frustrated with him because he had changed from supportive boyfriend into party frat boy. I hated the change.

I spent the weekend before his graduation immersed in textbooks and writing papers; my parents and Will’s family were coming down at the end of the week and I wanted to dedicate as much time to them as I could. I hadn’t seen Will all weekend, so when he knocked at my door early Sunday morning, I was surprised. That surprise grew to worry when I opened my door. There were giant black smudges under his pale gray eyes, he was sweating, and his skin was a light yellow. I’d never seen him look so unhealthy.

He grabbed me, pulling me into a hug, and told me how much he loved me. Then, after shutting my door and sitting on my bed, he ran his hands through that beautiful curly blonde hair, and told

me about his mistakes over the last few weeks. He’d been seeing someone else. When he’d woken that morning, opened his eyes and seen her and

not me, he’d run straight to me to beg my forgiveness. He vowed to spend the rest of his life making it up to me, if I could forgive him just that once. He’d gotten down on his hands and knees,

showing me the most beautiful diamond ring; the

princess cut single carat stone shone in the light. He’d gotten it months before and had been waiting for the right moment.

That was not the right moment. It took me a few minutes for his words to sink in. I sat down on the floor, because my legs couldn’t support me anymore, not even to walk to the chair. No, not Will. We didn’t do drama. We didn’t cheat. But, Will had. How many times? I needed to know, but I was afraid to ask. He was talking to me, but I didn’t hear a word; instead, my mind replayed all of those times I saw another girl smile knowingly at him, or me, that I’d assumed were innocent. I was a fool. I told him to leave, but he’d sat down next to me and hugged me, telling me over and over that he was sorry. I did what any young girl in love would do…I forgave him. The memory made me sad. If only that girl hadn’t given in, hadn’t forgiven him, hadn’t built a life with him, I wouldn’t be where I was.

I needed to vent—to get everything I’d been holding in, out. I couldn’t say the words yet because then it would be real. My marriage wasn’t over, we just needed to regroup and figure out how to move forward. Will needed some time to remember that he loved me, and I needed time to

learn to forgive him. More important was that we needed time away from each other to remember how we felt about the other. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. We could save this. But, did I really want to? The thought popped in, making me wonder.

I needed to cry. A full blown pity party breakdown was due. There was nothing wrong with crying. It didn’t mean I’d given up. I needed sad music or a hallmark movie and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. I’d exhaust myself with tears and start over in the morning. Feeling better, and having a plan, made pulling into the hotel alone much more bearable.

Not finding anything sappy enough on cable, I pulled out my laptop, changed into pjs and ordered Thai from my favorite restaurant. I was twenty minutes into
The Notebook
when my phone rang. Pressing pause I sat up and answered.

“What are you doing?” I smiled. Normal people would say ‘hi’ or ask how I was—not him.

“I’m about to watch a movie. Thought I’d laydown and try to get rid of this headache.” Matty left the office a few hours before I did, but he knew I was getting a migraine.

“Oh.” He had a tone that I couldn’t place. “You

gonna watch it alone?” Not sure why he was

asking, I said I was. “I just got home from grocery shopping,” he paused and I wondered for a brief minute if all of our conversations were this weird or if it was because I was cranky. “I ran into Billy and asked him if you were feeling any better.” My heart sank. “Imagine my surprise when he told me he didn’t know. Then imagine the look on his face when he realized I didn’t know why he wouldn’t know. Why in the hell didn’t you tell me?”

There wasn’t a good answer. I told Matty everything. But, I hadn’t told him this because I didn’t want anyone to know. “I… um…. I,” I didn’t know what to say. Nothing I could tell him would make him feel any better. Honesty was the best bet. “I don’t know. I guess…” There was a knock on my door. “Shit. Hold on a sec, ok?” I headed for the door, grabbing my wallet off the little table next to the door. Expecting to find the delivery boy, I came face-to-face with the Greek god holding my bag of Thai. He smiled.

“What are you doing here?” I shook my head, as much to clear the confusion as in disbelief.

He moved past me into the room, putting the bag on the coffee table and turning to face me. “I brought food.”

I shut the door, leaning against it, and put my wallet and phone on the stand. “The food was on its way. Without you.”

“Yeah. But what fun is eating spicy Thai alone in a dark and quiet hotel room,” he turned back to the table and pulled out a takeout box, “when you could be sharing spicy Thai with your best friend?” Grabbing the fork out of the bag, he opened the box as he walked to the couch and sat down. “Come sit and eat with me.”

I didn’t move. The chicken pad Thai smelled heavenly and my stomach growled in defiance. “How’d you know where I was?”

The brat took a big bite of noodles. “Billy.” He twirled his fork in the box pulling out another heaping pile. “He was pretty shocked that I didn’t know where you were or what was going on. He wouldn’t tell me much,” he put the bite in and chewed, “but he did tell me you were here when I insisted I wanted to check on you.” He swallowed loudly. “I’m hungry enough to eat it all,” he held up the box, “but I’ll gladly share with you if you hurry.”

I glared at him. That was my Thai and this was my sulk night. I was going to eat junk food, not care if I got fat, and watch heartbreaking love

stories until I cried myself to sleep. No part of that included the goofy buffoon sitting on
my
couch eating
my
noodles. “Why are you here?” My tone was terse.

“Because you need me.” He shrugged. “If someone,” he gave me a sharp look, “had let me do my job, I’d have been here earlier.”

“That makes no sense.” I was sure I hadn’t thrown a full-blown temper tantrum reminiscent of a two-year-old in almost thirty years, but I was pretty close to having one then.