Page 20 of Second Chance Husband

At least the normal routine that had happened since the divorce. I was trying to find it again since moving out of the mansion with Jacob, and into the home that I hadn’t ever sold. I hadn’t even realized that I had had a backup plan, a safety net, until I had needed it.

I slid into comfy lounge pants, a tank top, and a soft zip-up hoodie, put my hair in a clip, and went to set out a few snacks for the girls. I had music playing this time, still not watching the news, as I had already read the headline news, as well as multiple news sources that had nothing to do with my life with Jacob.

There was at least that.

Then I went to start cleaning a bit, knowing that the girls would be here any minute.

However, when I went to the guest bedroom in search of a storage box, I saw one that made my heart ache.

Without thinking, and yet knowing it was a mistake, I went to my tiptoes and pulled down the memory box I had forgotten I had stashed here.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, the hat box on my lap, as I gently took off the circular lid.

It was odd to think I wasn’t mourning a recent divorce. Oh, I might be mourning the person that I had been when I thought I’d been in love, but that had just been a mirage.

No, apparently now it was all I could do but mourn a relationship long gone.

I let out a shaky breath, annoyed at myself for even falling down this rabbit hole.

Inside were countless photographs, notes, movie tickets, and even a concert stub or two.

Mementos of a time long gone, of a lifetime that didn’t even seem my own.

There was the time we had gone to a city park and shared a Frito pie, all the while laughing with the children as they giggled, playing within the park itself. I still had the receipt for that Frito pie, with a little smudge of chili at the edge.

The remnants had long since dried, and was probably disgusting, but I kept it. As well as the movie ticket stub from our first date.

There was the receipt for my wedding dress, a simple plain white dress I had found at a discount store. So unlike the extravagant lace and corset bodice I had been forced to wear for Jacob’s mother as well as my own.

A single dried flower from my bouquet.

And scattered amongst the relics of a past better left forgotten, were photos.

Polaroids, printed out photos, and those little ones that you get from carnivals and arcades where they print out in a long strip.

We had been so young—August and me.

So young, and perhaps carefree, though not in reality.

We’d both been running from pasts when we hadn’t even realized it. But I saw the love there. The aching love in both of our eyes.

When had that gone away?

When had August stopped loving me?

I could see now that Jacob had never loved me. As I looked back, I realized that my business and my connections to this new age of power in his eyes were why he had married me. I kept having to ask myself why I had married him.

But I never had to ask myself why I had married August. Yes, maybe I was clinging to wanting to have something steady in a world that didn’t feel steady at all. But I had married August because I loved him.

And I could see the love in his eyes.

When had it turned to heartbreak? When had it turned to indifference.

When the doorbell rang, I quickly tossed everything back in the box, having jumped and watched its scattered remains hit the carpeted floor. Swallowing hard, I made sure nothing was out of place as I set the box down, and then wiped my face.

They would think I was crying over the asshole, or maybe the media attention. And that would be fine.

They couldn’t know I was still in love with their brother-in-law.

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