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“Well, I knew it had to be something even semi-serious if you called off work. You never call in sick. So, I just wanted to check on you. I didn’t want to show up empty-handed and figured food you didn’t have to cook would be the way to go!” she says. Smiling at me, she hands me a box of to-go Chinese and chopsticks.
“Thank you so much. You didn’t have to do that, though…” I say, feeling guilty for lying. Here she is, showing up and missing a day of work to help me. And my only reason for not coming in is that my fake husband can’t keep it in his pants.
I dive in, and Melanie does the same. It tastes good, and it’s from my favorite restaurant. But after two bites, I lose my appetite. It’s hard to eat when your heart is trying to repair itself and needs every ounce of energy in your body to do it.
“I’m sorry. Did I pick the wrong thing?” she asks, watching me set down my box.
“No, that’s not it. It’s great,” I assure her. “I’m just not very hungry. Maybe I got food poisoning from my chicken last night or something. It was a rough night.”
She side-hugs me. “I’m so sorry you’re not well. But it looks like it definitely was a bad night. Your poor eyes are red and swollen.”
Yeah, I know they are. But it’s not from not feeling unwell. It’s from the waterworks I unleashed last night.
After Melanie finishes her lunch, she stays with me for the rest of the afternoon. We watch TV in the living room and talk about work. After a couple hours, she says she’ll get out of my hair and let me get some rest.
I thank her for her kindness and for spending her day with me as she walks out, heading to her car. I shut the door and go back into my bedroom.
Suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I feel overwhelmed, wanting to look at my phone. I start feeling guilty for not responding to Kaden, and I can’t just ignore him forever when he technically hasn’t done anything wrong.
I grab it off the comforter and power it on. After a few minutes, it starts to ring again. It’s Kaden, but this time I answer it.
“Hello, beautiful,” he says. It breaks my heart because I miss loving him and calling me beautiful. I have to stay strong.
“Hi, Kaden,” I reply dryly. There’s silence on the other end as he pauses for a moment.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, surprising me with how quickly he notices my tone is off. I decide the only adult thing to do is tell the truth, so I tell him about receiving the photo.
“Who sent it to you?” he asks.
I scoff. “Does it matter who sent it to me? Is that the point?” My tone is showing total irritation, and I don’t care.
“No, it isn’t. I just wanted to know who was trying to stir something between us. Babe, I swear it’s not what it looks like at all. That woman in the picture is my business partner’s daughter. He was there, too. Just not in the photo, obviously. I’m sure the press took it, trying to stir up drama. But, I promise it’s harmless.”
His explanation lifts a massive weight off my shoulders and makes me feel ridiculous about how I’ve been acting all day.
“I’m sorry. I should have called and asked you what it was. I shouldn’t have gotten upset at you. It won’t happen again,” I say, hoping he isn’t too angry at me.
He laughs. “Don’t be sorry. I know how weird it must have looked. But, honey? I want you to know I’m a faithful husband. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
His words make me flush and instantly feel better. It warms my heart to know he’s not angry with my assumptions and is being sweet in his explanation. We talk on the phone the rest of the night.
29
AMBER
Kaden is exceptionally good at reassuring me. I had felt like a young girl in high school, missing my boyfriend, when he had explained thoughtfully who the woman in the photo was. He never made me feel stupid or irrational. I can’t ignore that something inside me is blooming. Something beyond physical attraction, and it makes my mind feel like it is a snow globe being shaken.
I return back to work after taking an entire day off, ready to face them with my confidence restored. My coworkers tell me that I seem to be glowing, though I barely notice a difference in me when I gaze into the mirror.
Sarah, one of the most experienced women working for the company, shakes her head firmly at me. “It’s not about what you see in the mirror. It’s how you move, how you look when you’re on your own, the way your face changes when you are thinking by yourself.”
I want to deny her, but I know she is right. I feel different, especially after being reassured so lovingly. I wasn’t blown off, the way many women are when they feel the cold hands of jealousy wrap around their throats.
I keep working, doing my best not to think about Kaden. It is difficult though. His beautiful eyes and presence infiltrate every meeting, every message, every document I scan and write up.
I find myself standing at the photocopier, barely present, when Sarah walks in on me. “You’re doing it again,” she says with a smirk.
I look up, straightening my posture as Sarah stands next to me. She is a gorgeous white woman, in her late forties with flaming red hair and deep blue eyes. She is smiling at me, fanning herself with the paper she had come into the room to copy.
