Page 91 of Unbossly Manners

In an unspoken agreement, I went first. The nurse led me through a maze of corridors, and pointed to a door on the right.

“Room 305,” she said, and hurried away, the rubber on her shoes squeaking on the tiled floor.

Tears pricked my eyes, and I took a moment to cool my emotions. There was a rectangular window on the door and I peeked through it. Jackson lay on the bed hooked up to a monitor, an IV in his arm, his head bandaged. Kat sat on a chair next to him, her back to me, tissues crumpled in her hand, looking up at him.

Kat laughed and Jackson smiled in response. She brushed a hair from his forehead and he closed his eyes at the gesture. It was intimate and easy. Two people who’ve been through wars together and came out the other side changed, closer. Not just in that moment. But in all the years they’ve known each other. Over a decade.

I’d known him for three months.

Three measly months. What was that to fifteen years? What was that to a marriage, a child, dozens of birthdays, and anniversaries?

I rested my back against the wall, and stared up at the stained ceiling panels. What place did I have in his life? Kat and Evie were his family. Who was I? No one. An acquaintance. A girl he’d fooled around with a few times. Kissed twice. He’d kissed Kat a thousand times and he wanted a thousand more.

Shame, guilt, foolishness—they rushed through me, swirled around, picked me up, and crashed me back down. I was a day player. Kat and Jackson were the stars of this show.

I stepped away, dragging my feet back to the waiting room, and told everyone that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to go home.

They didn’t ask any questions and Selena hooked her arm in my elbow and took me back to the cabin.

We packed our bags and called an Uber to take us to the train station. She didn’t ask any questions. She could tell something was wrong and she also knew I didn’t want to talk about it.

We reached the city late. At Selena’s apartment, she poured us each a glass of cheap rosé, then sat next to me.

“What happened?”

The wine wound through my bloodstream, a calming elixir. My eyelids struggled to stay open, but I wanted the drama of the day out of my system.

“I saw history. I saw love.” I sank into the cushion of her sofa, drained. “Kat is his person, his family. I’m a bystander.”

Selena sipped her wine, her eyes studying me over the rim.

“She’s the mother of his child and was married to him for a long time,” Selena said, rubbing my shoulder. “But she’s not his person.”

“Please don’t say I’m his person.”

“I wasn’t going to. He’s too entrenched in the past to see his future.”

“And…” I raised my eyebrows, expectantly.

“And nothing.”

I picked at the pilling on the worn blanket across my lap. My eyes were sore and puffy from crying, but more tears dripped down my cheeks, any last hope of Jackson loving me leaking out.

“Aren’t you going to tell me to wait until he’s sorted things out with Kat? Or tell me to forget about him. He’s not worth it.”

“No,” she said simply.

I put my empty glass down and folded my arms over my chest.

“What the hell is this? Some reverse psychology bullshit?”

“I don’t have an answer.” Selena patted my knee, and raised her eyebrows.

“But you have opinions.” For all the years I’d known her, she’d never shied away from voicing her thoughts on anything.

“Peyton, you’re a grown-ass woman. You tell me.”

“Ugh.” I slammed back against the cushion. “That’s what you’re meant to do. Shine a light when I’m too close and only see shadows. Comfort me when I’m sad. Be my compass when I’m lost.”

---