Cool Auntie Lina
? I Tried A Ring On - Tigirlily Gold
Angelina
A baby criesin the row ahead of me as the plane evens out. Her mom shushes her, rocking back and forth. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair and blue eyes through the crack between the seats. She reminds me of my goddaughter, Emmy Lou, when she was that age. My heart squeezes at the memory. She’s five now, and Jess has been gone for longer than Emmy knew her.
I rest my head against the open window, watching the clouds float past. I’ve been running on overdrive since I found Tyler’s note, and it’s all hitting me at once.
I’m alone again.
The bright future I pictured for myself has all but disappeared. For a fleeting moment, I held it in the palm of my hand, until the morning before the wedding, when it slipped through my fingers. That seems to be a recurring pattern.
Light catches on my wedding band. Griffin’s flight tookoff two hours before mine, and we haven’t yet discussed what this means for us or where we go from here. Annulment is the most logical option, so why does the very idea of it hurt so much? Maybe it’s the loneliness talking.
I pull out my phone and scroll through the photos from our wedding night for the millionth time since I woke up married. We’re standing at the altar—me in my robe and Griffin in his casual suit jacket and jeans.
The first thing I notice is my smile. It’s not fake or forced. The second thing I notice is Griffin—the way his palm is cradling my cheek in those seconds before our first kiss. The way his half smile deepens the wrinkles around his eyes as he gazes at me like he’s waited his entire life for that moment.
God. That kiss.
I’ve never been kissed like that before, like our souls intertwined in perfect synchronicity.
It’s ludicrous, but I can’t help but wonder what if.
What if we don’t file for an annulment?
What if we try?
What if everything I want is right in front of me?
What if Griffin hadn’t walked away from me five years ago?
After the plane touches down in Nashville, I make my way to the baggage claim with a pit in my stomach. I have the garment bag with my wedding dress in one hand, and the rest of my luggage is packed full of everything I would’ve needed on our honeymoon in Mexico.
The destination, much like our wedding, was Tyler’s choice. He said he didn’t want a big wedding because hedoesn’t have any family left, and I agreed because I loved him and didn’t want our wedding day to be one of sadness for him.
When it came time to plan the honeymoon, I’d already capitulated so much that it didn’t seem to matter where we went anymore.
It was always my dream to visit Italy and Greece, to see the rich history of my family’s lineage and visit my parents on the Italian coast. Maybe someday I’ll make that trip on my own, though I wish I could share those memories with someone. I’m thirty-six years old. Tyler stole three years of my life. If losing Jess has taught me anything, it’s that time is also a thief.
It might be time for me to come to terms with a solitary life. I could be cool Auntie Lina, who spoils them with gifts and tells amazing stories of her travels. It could be fulfilling in a way, but it would never replace the desire to have a family of my own. Therein lies the problem. No matter how I envision my future after this, there will always be something missing.
When I step off the escalator, my breath ceases, and I abruptly stop walking. Standing there next to the Las Vegas luggage carousel is my new husband, holding a sign that reads: “I waited five years, what’s two more hours? Welcome home, wife.”
I don’t let myself dwell on the sentiment, convinced it’s some sort of tongue-in-cheek joke about our fling. Griffin’s expression gives nothing away.
“Need a ride, Mrs. Hayes?”
“Who said I was changing my name?”
He steps closer and says, just loud enough for me to hear, “My bad. I just assumed, based on the way you were screaming my name last night, you might want to share part of it.”
If I had the capacity, I’d probably be blushing, but it takes a lot more than one lurid memory to knock me off kilter.
I tangle my fist in his shirt and pull him closer. My lips ghost over the shell of his ear. “As I recall, you were prettyvocal yourself. Or do you need a reminder of whose name was coming out of your mouth, Mr. Hayes?”
“That sassy fuckin’ mouth of yours is just asking for trouble.”
