Page 230 of Accidental Husband
"Hey." I press my cell to my cheek. "Give me a second." The house is crowded. Mostly with people I've never seen before. Judging from the excess of tattoos, I'm guessing most of these people are friends of Dean's. Or at least friends of the shop.
It's not like there's anyone I wanted Dean to invite. Yeah, I have friends, but half of them moved the week after graduation. And none of them compare to Griffin.
I move through the crowded room, up the stairs, down the hallway.
I step into an open door. The room is all black—curtains, bedspread, desk. It must be Ryan's room.
It's a good place to talk. Quiet. Private. Calm.
I can do this.
I can close the book on my relationship with Jackson.
"Hey." My fingers glide over the cell. "Are you there?"
"Yeah."
I suck a breath between my teeth.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"At a party."
"Whose party?" That controlling tone drops into his voice.Who are you seeing?What are you doing?Why aren't you living the life I think is the right life?
I don't answer. "It's loud. But I have a minute." I take a seat on the black bedspread. Recall Ryan's mention of sex. Jump off it. I'm not squeamish, but I'm not sitting on used sheets either.
"One of your friends? The one with the pool with all the topless women?"
"One woman, one time."
"Your husband's date. I guess he likes women who show off. Is that what you two like?"
"What do you want, Jackson?"
"I miss you." His voice is slurred, but I can't tell if it's from exhaustion or alcohol.
Maybe this is a drunk dial. It doesn't matter. I need this closure as much as he does.
"You don't." It's not as simple as that. He misses the idea of me. The idea of a stable relationship. The attention and praise that comes with a big wedding. The fantasy of a house in the suburbs and two kids and a dog (never mind my allergy to anything with fur and feathers and my lack of desire to have children).
I get it. I felt a shade of that. I loved the fantasy, but I didn't love him.
No, I did. Once. But it was a long time ago. Too long.
"Yeah, I do." His voice drops to something lower. "I love you."
I don't have a response to that. I guess I can tell him he's a controlling asshole, that he only misses being able to whine about how Griffin and I were too close, but I don't have much moral high ground on that particular point. "How is she?"
"Who?"
"Red lingerie."
"We're not… she doesn't want something long term."
"Oh." So he has buyer's remorse. Poor baby. It must be so hard, cheating on your fiancée, expecting your mistress to stay with you. "That's too bad."
"Jules."
