I checked my phone over and over like it was a nervous tic. The fact he wasn’t responding—surely, his phone broke or something. Jack wouldn’t just ignore me, would he?
Things had gotten so sour between us, maybe he would.
Last time I saw Jack, we spent the night together. Like the two idiots we were. Last time we talked over the phone, Jack was tense. Said he “can’t do this anymore.” I wasn’t sure what he meant, but now, a couple months later, I wished I’d asked him to explain.
He probably blocked my phone.
That possibility stung like peroxide on an open wound.
I tried calling Nashville PD multiple times, but they would never patch me through to Jack, even when I told them it was important. Without a doubt, Jack had instructed them not to. I wanted to kick myself. I contacted him too often after our divorce. No doubt he was sick of hearing from me and was simply trying to block off forms of communication.
Jack wasn’t on social media, so I tried the last possible option: I wrote him a letter.
I hit the high points. Wrote that the baby was healthy and prognosis was good if I quit my job. Please call me, etc. Left out my emotional instability, financial crisis, and utter desperation.
A week went by without a word back.
I didn’t have time to mess around. Every day I went back to work was a risk. I already asked coworkers to help me with the heaviest trays. Couldn’t operate like this forever.
My hope diminished with each passing day. MaybeI can’t do this anymoremeant what it looked like. That he was fully over me. That I pushed too far and asked for too much and now he was done.
Really, truly done.
Depression loomed over me like an angry storm cloud. Took everything I had to keep my head above water.
Ten days after my doctor’s appointment, I left Ohio and drove to Nashville.
I pulled onto our old street, my heart heavy. It sat in my chest like a rock. What if he rejected me? What if he got all the messages and just didn’t want me or a baby anymore? Thethoughts haunted me all through Nashville traffic. My neck hurt from the tension radiating through my body.
The sight of our old house was a stab to the sliver of my remaining sanity. I missed him. Missed Nashville. Missed this old rental with the tiny yard and the second bedroom with the peeling wallpaper that would’ve made the perfect nursery.
His truck wasn’t in the driveway, but another vehicle was.
I’d already decided to go to the NPD if he wasn’t home. But, considering the car in the drive, I figured I would knock.
Whose car is that?
Curiosity fueled me now.
I heard movement on the other side of the door. The deadbolt slid and when the door opened, my heart stopped beating.
The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen—auburn hair, tall, piercing brown eyes, flawless skin, infinitely long legs—stood there.
Wearing Jack’s Chicago Bears t-shirt and sweatpants.
It felt like I’d been sucker punched.
Her hair was tousled like she just woke up. In fact, there was a sleep mark on her face.
I tried to inhale.
I mean, of course Jack wouldn’t stay single forever, but she was—he was—sosoon? Coming face to face with his rebound was like a nightmare.
Hell, actually.
A beat of silence passed as we stared at each other.
I couldn’t form a coherent greeting as I imagined Jack with this model. As I imagined them tearing up the sheets together. As I imagined him touching her in all the ways he had touched me.
