Page 7 of My Wife

I start ticking off names. “You. Me. Summer and Tyler.” When he nods, I immediately say, “Madison,” because Summer doesn’t go anywhere withoutheremotional support human. “Vee.” I raise my eyebrows. “Aaron?”

Tommy nods. “They’re both stubbornly determined not to let their recent break-up mess with the group’s dynamic.”

I get that. That’s the thing about growing up in a small town. We partner swap.A lot. Me dating Tommy for nearly all of high school only to start dating Clay right as we were getting ready to graduate was almost expected, and it wouldn’t have been a big deal if I’d broken up with Tommy first. Just like how Summer had a few months’ fling with Tommy before getting back withher on and off-again boyfriend, Tyler. With the exception of Tommy and Clay, I’m pretty sure Madison fucked anyone who ever wore a GHS varsity jacket—both while we were in school and after, and considering the whispers around town, she’s still doing it so long as the guy says he’s on the right side of eighteen.

Vee was with Aaron in middle school. Ignored the flirtatious troublemaker all through high school, then gave him a second chance once he seemed to calm down a little in his mid-twenties. They got back together about two years ago, right before I gave Tommy a second chance. I figured they would be the next to get married after Summer and Tyler, but Vee ended things over the summer.

Since then, she’s been cozying up to Chase Whitmore. Nothing serious, just a couple of nights out together that they both claim aren’t dates, but I can’t help but not believe a word out of his mouth, at least. After all, I know how good of a liar he is.

No one believed me at all when I told the group that Chase shoved my head in his lap and wouldn’t let me up again unless I blew him.

Well, no. That’s not true. Tommy believed me. So did Clay. I was still dating Tommy when Chase tried to force me to suck his dick after he—drunk and stupid and super horny—yanked down his pants and, with his hand on the back of my head, forced my face into his lap. Though Tommy and Clay were outside, playing beer pong, when I got trapped by Chase on the couch, I went right to my boyfriend after I bit Chase on his exposed thigh and escaped him. I had to beg Tommy not to beat the shit out of Chase then and there, and that was only because I didn’t want him getting into trouble at the height of baseball season.

Even before Clay was into me as Cyn and not just Tommy’s girl, he offered to slug Chase for me. Our star kicker, I refused to be the reason he lost his scholarship to Rutgers. Besides, whenChase came strolling out onto the back patio with his pants back on and my bite mark hidden, he laughed it off, pretending like I got it all wrong. That he’d never make a move on his buddy’s girlfriend.

I was too sensitive. I couldn’t take a joke. I thought he was serious? Nah… he’d never do that.

And, except for my boys, everyone believed him. By the time we were back in school, rumors ran thatItried to make a move on Chase, that I was the town slut who would suck any dick that got shoved into her face. When Chase refused, I made up a lie so that Tommy didn’t dump me on the spot.

That was ten years ago and I still don’t know who started that rumor—though I can guess, and if Tommy has his way, I’ll be spending a whole weekend with her on Halo Island. As for Chase…

I hated him for what he did to meandmy reputation. For the next couple of weeks, I refused to go anywhere unless Tommy was glued to my side, and if Chase was going to be there, I’d rather stay home. School was the only exception, of course, but other than that? I would’ve done anything for the rumors to die down.

Then, about a month after that party, Chase got jumped on his way home by who he claimed were a couple of kids he pissed off from the town next door. He was beaten so badly, he spent the rest of senior year both in the hospital, then a rehab center in Southern California where he had to regain the use of his legs after they were both broken. Supposedly, he found God after that, even thinking about going to seminary school, though he ended up following in his father’s footsteps by becoming a lawyer.

Shocker, right?

Finding out that Tommy and Chase are still good friends all these years later was almost a dealbreaker for me. Only knowingthat Tommy never once downplayed what Chase did got me past it. None of that ‘he was just a kid’ bullshit, or ‘he changed’. Tommy fully admits that Chase was a predatory asshole then, and a power-tripping dickhead now.

Why are they friends? For the same reason that I smile and pretend like Summer is one of mine: because we grew up together, and even if we’re all in our late twenties now, none of us have really shaken that high school mentality.

Since me and Tommy got back together, I’ve actually spent more time around Chase than I ever did back in high school. We have this unspoken agreement not to bring up the past—one I wish I had with Summer—but that doesn’t mean I like the idea of spending a couple of days so far off the mainland with him.

So I hold my breath and ask, “Chase?”

Tommy moves until he’s next to me, then gooses my side.Yes. Damn it.

Then he says, “I’ll make it worth it, love. I promise,” and I forget all about Chase as I instantly tighten up.

Tommy pats my hip, a silent apology, then lets go of me as he heads toward the stove.

It wasn’t the possessive grab that triggered me, though. Once our relationship turned intimate again, I expected Tommy to be handsy with me. He always was, and in so many ways, he hasn’t changed one bit from the fifteen-year-old who nearly creamed his pants the first time I let him put his hands under my shirt. Tommy touches me as often as he can, almost as though checking to make sure that this is real, that we are together again, and I don’t mind that.

Butlove? Tommy’s not big on pet names. He prefers to use a nickname if anything. In fact, he’s the one who started calling me Cyn in high school instead of Cyndi—my name all the way through middle school—or my full name, Cynthia. Clayton became Clay. Our friend Violet is Vee. The only one who evercalls Tommy Thomas is his mother, even though he turned twenty-eight last month. It’s just how he is.

And then, a couple of weeks ago, he called me ‘babe’. It just slipped out. We were sitting on the couch, watching TV together, when I got up to get some water. I asked if he wanted any, and he nodded and said, “Thanks, babe.”

That was what Clay used to call me. I was his ‘babe’ or ‘baby’, and the second Tommy used that name for me, grief washed over me. I stumbled, head whipping around as though I’d find Clay leaning back on the couch instead.

My face gave me away. I never had to tell him why it fucked me up to have him call me that. He knew, and that was the last time he said it. He’s started referring to me as ‘love’ instead, and because I’m trying so hard to keep my head above the grief I’ve spent the last five years treading water in, I let him have it.

Tommy loves me. No denying that. There are moments when I catch him looking at me out of the corner of my eye and wonder if he ever stopped. Obviously, our relationship is completely different than it was a decade ago. We’re both adults now. I’m a widow, and while Tommy glosses over his dating history, he’s too handsome, too kind, too charming not to have plenty of girlfriends after I left him the first time. He loves me now in a more mature way than he ever did, and as much as I can with part of my heart still belonging to Clay, I love him.

Does that mean I can handle how easy it is for Tommy to tell me so? He was the first to actually say the words—I love you—and when I couldn’t right away, he promised me he would wait as long as it took for me to reciprocate his feelings.

I finally did. On the one year anniversary of our second first date, I told Tommy I loved him. The words stuck in my throat, but they’ve come easier and easier since.

Now two years have passed since we’ve been together again. I can’t tell if he’s planned this getaway only to help distract mewith Clay’s death anniversary coming up so soon, or if he has ulterior motives...

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