Page 74 of Where the Music Grows

“You married him,” he says.

“On my eighteenth birthday, he convinced me to drive to Vegas. Just for fun, he said. Just an adventure.” I laugh, the sound hollow. “We got married by some Elvis impersonator.”

The memories flood back—the neon lights, the cheap ring, the way Sam had grinned when he slid it onto my finger. At the time, I’d thought it was love. Now I know it was just conquest.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know where your husband is?”

I cringe at the idea of Sam being my husband. “No.”

“We came back home after a couple of days in Vegas. He moved in here. We played house for about four weeks, then I guess he got bored. The whole madly in love thing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. We were broke and there was no way we were going to move to the big city. We couldn’t even rent an apartment. He hated living in my house. He thought my family had money because they own this land. He was expecting us to get a nice apartment or a bigger house in town once we were married.”

Jack nods but says nothing. Now that the story is coming out, I want it all out.

I take a deep breath. “A month after we got home, I came home from work, and he was gone. He took some cash, my iPad, and Mr. Snuffles.”

Jack blinks. “Is that Max’s brother?”

A hysterical laugh bubbles up. “No. Mr. Snuffles is a teddy bear my dad gave me when I was five. Sam knew what it meant to me.”

The admission hangs between us. Jack’s quiet for so long, I think he might leave.

“I don’t like that Aggie didn’t tell me,” he mutters. “She made it seem like you were single and available.”

I cringe. The next part of the story has to come out. “She thinks I am.”

“I get that he’s not here, but you’re married, Jinnie. I’m not sure how I feel about having sex with another man’s wife.”

“Yes, technically I’m married, but I’m trying to get it annulled. And Aggie didn’t tell you because she doesn’t know. My parents don’t know either.”

He looks surprised. “They don’t know you’re married?”

I shake my head. “No. I was so embarrassed. We said we were going to tell them after they got used to the idea of me and Sam together. When he moved in, no one was happy. I didn’t want to tell them we were married until they got to know him a little better. I thought they would eventually warm up to him once they saw how happy he made me.”

“Did he?” he asks. “Make you happy?”

I think about my answer. “Have you been drunk before?”

He smirks. “I’m not a total good boy.”

“When you’re drunk, things are different. Maybe you’re someone who laughs at everything or you get angrier. People look more attractive. Then you sober up and you realize that isn’t how you really feel. When Sam left, I was sad. I don’t think I was heartbroken because honestly, after we moved in, I realized I didn’t really know him at all. He wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

He nods. “I get it.”

“A couple of weeks after he left, I felt like I could see clearly. You could say I sobered up. I had a fresh perspective. I saw the situation for what it was. I wasn’t in a manufactured love haze.”

“You’re not still in love with him?”

“No,” I reply definitively. “I’m not. I don’t think I was ever really in love with him. I was in love with the idea of him and the world he was promising me. We overlooked all the practical matters. Part of that is because we were young and dumb. It was all very stereotypical and it is so embarrassing.”

“And now?”

“And now I want an annulment and to pretend it never happened.”

“So, why haven’t you?” he asks.