jealously painfully coursing through her. Well, what had she expected? She had known there had to be other women in Jason's life. The last thing in the world he would be was a monk! But it still hurt, she thought, wiping at the unexpected tears that rose in her eyes. How different things could have been, she thought resentfully, if only she had had the gumption to stand up to Uncle Fred and Aunt Rainey concerning her marriage.
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Wiping ineffectually at the streaming tears, she washed the last skillet, rinsed it, and laid it in the drainer. Turning out the light in the kitchen, she wandered back through the silent house, clicking on a small lamp in the living room, her eyes falling on one of Jason's shirts that he had carelessly draped there. She walked over, picked it up, and hugged it to her momentarily. The unique, special smell of Jason assaulted her nostrils, the faint aroma of his aftershave clinging to the soft fabric. Once again Jessica felt the wetness on her cheeks as tears slid rapidly down her face. Giving in to an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, she buried her face in the shirt, and her slender body shook with the force of her deep sobbing. She loved him more than life itself, but he would never be hers again. Only once in a lifetime could anyone feel the kind of love she felt for Jason. Jessica didn't know how she would ever bear the pain of losing him again.
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It was very late when she finally heard the car pull into the drive. Jessica had been trying to concentrate on the book she had taken to bed, meeting with little success. With a deep sigh she reached up and switched off her bedside lamp. Snuggling down into her bed, she heard Jason let himself in the back door, not any too quietly. Banging his way down the hall, he paused before her door and peeked in, his tall form appearing very comforting to her.
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''Hope I didn't wake you, Angel," he said insincerely.
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"No, I was awake." Now that he was back, Jessica suddenly felt very hostile toward him.
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