Page 47 of The Try Line

Jase chooses this moment to come out of his room, headphones resting around his neck. "Is everything okay?"

"Your uncle left," Janel says in a small voice.

Jase curses under his breath and turns his gaze to me. They're both looking at me with a combination of pity and understanding that isworse than the anger I expect. Because if it wasn't obvious before, then it is now.

"I'm sorry," I tell them, not bothering to specify what I'm sorry for. There aren’t enough words.

I'm sorry for it all. I'm sorry for lying to them all this time. For not being truly present because so much of me was lost the day Jason left, and I wasn't strong enough to pull myself back together. For betraying them. For betraying the wedding vows I never wanted, but took seriously. I'm sorry I wasn't stronger. A better husband. A better father. A better man.

And most of all, I'm sorry that I'm about to tear us apart at the seams.

"I love him," I say to myself, but loud enough for them to hear.

"I know," Janel says.

My head snaps up in surprise.

"I've always known."

Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

She's given me inklings over the past couple days that she knew something was going on, but what does she mean by always?

"When I came to tell you about the pregnancy, you were in his bed. And you've been mourning him like a dead lover all these years. I'm not that naïve."

My eyes cut to Jase, who is watching this entire interaction with blatant interest. "I didn't know about that part, but I knew you were in love with Uncle J." I don't bother asking how he knows anything at all. I shouldn’t be too surprised, he's always been an observant kid.

I turn back to Janel, wanting to wipe away the tears streaming down her face and pull her in for a hug. However much I didn't want tobe married to her, she's still been the closest thing to a friend I've had for a very long time. She's been my partner and the main catalyst in every step forward from the day he left. Without her to guide me, I would have crumbled. And this whole time, she knew I loved him and not her. That had to be painful for her, too.

"I never wanted to hurt you."

She holds a hand up to stop me from approaching. "Please don't. Just… go." When she steps to the side, I notice a small duffle bag next to her. She picks it up and hands it to me wordlessly.

"Janel, I'm so–"

"Just leave, Mik." Her words are firm, her voice cracking with the emotions she’s trying to hold back. But her expression leaves zero doubt of her meaning. This is over.

Jase walks past me towards his mother. "Go, dad. I've got her," he mutters, patting me on the shoulder. Janel disappears into the bedroom, and Jase turns around before following her.

"He's probably staying somewhere close to the airport," he tells me, then looks up and gives me a soft smile. "For what it's worth, I tried to get him to stay and talk to you."

"We did talk. That's why he left."

Jase's brow furrows, but he doesn't ask any more questions. Instead, he shoos me off and tells me to ‘go get him’ like this is some kind of romantic comedy.

But this isn't a comedy, it's a tragedy. And it's not romantic unless I can find him and talk him into staying with me.

It's nearly two in the morning by the time I track him down. I called every hotel in the area, some of which confirmed that Jason was not aguest, but most wouldn't divulge any information. Eventually I got clever and called, pretending to be a late-night pizza delivery service. I asked them to connect me to his room to confirm the details of his order. Three times the various hotels let me know they didn't have a guest by that name, but then, on the fourth try, they patched me through. The phone rang and rang with no answer, but at least I knew where he was.

I parked beside his rental car and then went to check in to the hotel. I know they aren't going to let me into the hotel, much less tell me his room number, so I had to devise yet another plan. Truthfully, it's a stupid plan that I saw on an episode of a cop show I used to watch, but it's worth trying. Worst-case scenario, I spend too much money to spend the night at this ridiculously swanky hotel.

I check in before the delivery arrives. It took me longer to find a late-night pizza delivery that I could bribe into driving this far than it did to track Jason down. After a good ten minutes of awkwardly milling about, pretending to look through a menu of spa services, I'm about to give up when a young guy wearing a t-shirt that saysRandy's Pizzawalks in. I keep my eyes focused on the spa menu, listening to the delivery guy state who the pizza is for. When they ask him what room number, he says he doesn't know, but they agree to take care of it. I strain my ears to overhear the woman at the front desk ask an attendant to carry the order up to Room 362.

Bingo.

"Can I take this with me?" I ask, holding up a pamphlet for the spa services.

The woman standing behind the desk, Erica, gives me a wide, blank smile and confirms that I can indeed take it. Never mind that she told me three times when I was awkwardly standing around the front desk, trying to purposefully delay going upstairs until the pizza was delivered. Now that the ruse is over, I hike my bag over my shoulder and make my way to the elevators. My room is on thesecond floor, but I head up to the third. I slip into the vending machine area down the hall from where the hotel attendant is holding the most expensive pizza to ever be delivered, peeking around the wall to see him knocking.

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