“Then get your ass on a plane and quit wasting time you’ll never get back.”
ChapterSixteen
Joel
I stared at my phone screen for the tenth time in the last five minutes.
Kaitlyn’s vile text read,When the cat’s away, the mouse will play.But it was the photo attached that really did me in. My wife in another man’s arms. The image she’d captured was as intimate as if they’d been kissing. He was tipping her head back, his hands framing her face and she was looking at him… the way she’d looked at me before I screwed everything up.
God, I hated myself. And my wife. And the bastard who thought he had the right to touch her.
My buddy, Jason, kicked my leg, which was extended on the leather ottoman under my feet. We were hanging out at my place, debating whether to meet up with friends for a late dinner.
When I returned to L.A., I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. I didn’t even want my old friends to know I was back, but word travelled fast in my circles and news got out that I was staying in my penthouse. People started showing up on my doorstep, trying to lure me to clubs and parties. Just to get out of my own head for awhile, I’d gone out to dinner and drinks a few times, but it only made me miss Ashland, the farm, and my girl even more.
“Come on, man. Are you going to sit there staring at your phone all night? I’m hungry. Let’s get outta here.”
I’d probably throw up if I tried to eat or drink anything and I knew Jason wouldn’t get off my back until I gave him a justifiable reason for bailing, so I flashed the screen in his face, scowling. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. So, if you want to go, no one’s stopping you.”
He grimaced before reaching for my phone. “Man, you weren’t kidding. She’s a 10+.”
“You’re an asshole.” I didn’t need to be reminded how gorgeous my wife was. I had eyes. And right now, the only thing I could see when I closed them was the dirtbag making moves on my woman while she was vulnerable, lonely, and pissed at me.
“Who’s the dude?” Jason asked, passing the phone back to me.
“How the hell should I know?”
I watched Jason walk into the adjoining kitchen and pour two shots of Jack Daniels into highball glasses. I knew drinking wouldn’t solve my problems, but since I didn’t have any other ideas for making the gnawing ache in my chest go away, I decided it couldn’t make things any worse.
Jason passed me one of the two glasses, tapping his against mine. “Bottoms up, my friend.”
He was one of the few real friends I’d made in L.A., and we’d stayed in touch when I moved back home. He was a talented tattoo artist and I’d loaned him the money to open an upscale shop, taking all of the financial risk for an equal stake in the business. It proved to be a good decision. Jason worked tirelessly, hired the best people, and was already talking about opening another shop.
Investments in businesses like his allowed me to do whatever the hell I wanted in life… except for the one thing I’d give up every dime to do… go home to my wife and start over.
Jason went back to the kitchen island to retrieve the bottle. He re-filled both of our glasses before he watched me down the second drink.
“So, are you gonna sit around here whining like a pussy or are you gonna go home and fight for your girl?”
“Shut the hell up, Jay.” I snagged the bottle from him and pounded another, knowing I’d be paying for it in the morning. “You don’t know shit about relationships.”
“Neither do you.” He chuckled, pointing at me when I threw the bottle cap at him. “You know it’s true, and that’s what’s pissing you off. You’re so used to being in control, always knowing what to do, how to handle every situation and this woman’s got you tied up in knots, second-guessing every decision you make.”
I hated to admit it, but he wasn’t wrong. “Alright, smartass. What would you suggest I do?”
“I just told you, get your ass on a plane and fight for her.”
I looked at the screen again, wondering who the hell the handsy bastard in the picture was. I didn’t think he was a local. With twenty thousand people, our hometown wasn’t small enough to claim I knew everyone, but I would have remembered this guy.
“What if it’s too late?” I muttered, more to myself than my friend.
“Joel, you’ve been gone a couple of weeks. If Gia loved you, you really think she could move on that fast?”
I didn’t think so. It would take me years to get over her, if she gave me no other choice. “How would you explain this?” I asked, holding up my phone. “If you saw a pic like that of your wife with some other guy—”
“I wouldn’t be sitting here pissing and moaning to my buddy about it! I’d be in her face, demanding answers.”
Jason was right, but I wasn’t sure I was man enough to handle the truth. If she told me she had feelings for this guy, or in a moment of weakness she’d slept with him, it would crush me.
