Chapter Two

Jenna

Present Day

We were running out of time, I knew, as I watched the sun creep in from the bedroom window. "Tell me something that'll make me stay," I begged. "I don't want to go, not yet."

It was the truth. I didn't want to leave Michael's bed where I laid tangled in the sheets, leaning into him, his arm over my shoulder as he pulled me closer and kissed the top of my forehead affectionately. He rubbed gentle circles on my arm and I sighed, happier than I'd been in a long time.

Michael Dean was ten years my senior and my father's CPA, had been for years now. He hated the idea of doing anything but working in accounting, always insisting the thought of it made him want to hurl himself off a building. However, playing golf with my father was the one exception to that rule. Accounting was all he knew, though, and he couldn't understand people who didn't obsess over it like he did. He thought it was one of the most important professions.

Truthfully, we didn't have much in common and often times I wondered how we got here. But he was the definition of high society and fit my world like a glove. It was easy for us to fall into a rhythm. And I never had to worry about him breaking my heart into a million pieces because, while I loved him, I wasn't in love with him. He'd said the L-word in passing, but it didn't make me weak in the knees or swoon the way he said it. And that was just fine because the way I loved Michael had nothing on the way I'd loved once before. Frankly, it was comforting to know that our relationship was a lot different.

Michael moved from his position and finally responded, "I'd love to stay here with you all day, but we both know that's not how this works."

I shimmied up to the top of the bed and pulled the sheet over me so it covered my chest. "It's Sunday, we have this hotel room all to ourselves, at least for another two hours. Why not? We can tune everything else out and stay in this cocoon of happiness." I glided my feet up and down, loving the way the soft sheets felt beneath my feet.

He sighed as I watched him put his shoes on. "Can't. I got a last minute meeting with your father today, then we're going to the country club." He looked over his shoulder at me and questioned, "Shouldn't you be working anyway? You just landed a huge client." He was talking about the cosmetic company that signed with me earlier in the week. They were one of the most successful cosmetic brands. Every woman under forty was wearing their products and every millennial wanted a job there. They were the very definition of a big fish.

I looked down at my manicured nails and shrugged. "Work can wait."

He patted the bed before getting off it. "You're a wonder, Jenna."

Being a lawyer was all I ever wanted and I was damn good at what I did. I graduated summa cum laude from the University of Miami and knew this shit like the back of my hand, but that didn't mean I wanted to make it my whole life. There was more to life than work, and I wanted those things life had to offer.

There was a time when all I needed was my work. I got absorbed in it and everything else paled in comparison. Even today, I was sad to admit that my life consisted of two things: my job and playing the part of good little daughter in my parent's world.

And had Mary never called me with news that Deacon's chopper went down and they didn't know if he was one of the missing or dead, I probably would've remained happy with my life just the way it was. It seemed like a cruel twist of fate, being that his enlistment was almost up. After that call from Mary, I was barely able to wrap my mind around much else. All I could think about was Deacon returning home safe and sound. I needed him to be okay.

Thankfully, Mary kept me updated and I learned he was okay. In fact, she recently informed me he was coming home soon, which lifted a huge weight off my chest.

I didn't have any girlfriends to spill my guts to, and I wished I felt more comfortable sharing these things with Michael, but I didn't. He wouldn't understand where I was coming from, why I still cared about an ex-boyfriend. The truth was, he was an emotionally distant person, so I doubted I'd get anything from him. Frankly, he wouldn't want to hear that I was even being kept abreast about my ex-boyfriend's situation.

"All right, well, that doesn't change the fact that I have to go." He walked to the bathroom, swiping his phone and earbuds off the nightstand to take with him.

Yawning and stretching for the last time before getting up, I threw my legs over the bed and slipped on the heels I kicked off last night. I heard the unlocking of the door, though, and that startled me enough to make my head snap in that direction.

I immediately grabbed the sheet off the bed and covered myself fully when I saw a tall, leggy, red-head in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt standing, hands on her hips, in our room. "If I didn't see it myself, I wouldn't believe it. Where is Michael, you two-bit tramp?" she barked.

I shot her a look. "What are you doing in our hotel room? How did you get a key?"

"Oh, don't get smart with me, you little piss-ass. I have every right to be here. It is my money that's paying for this little hideaway, after all."

She was handing out insults like they were candy and I wasn't going to just sit there and take it. "Excuse me, but the next thing that comes out of your mouth better be an explanation or I'm calling the front desk and having you hauled out by security."

Michael was in the bathroom, so I shouted for him to come out. "What?" he yelled, taking the earbuds out of his ears as he strolled out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel.

His tune immediately changed when he saw the woman whose nose began to flare with anger. His eyes went wide and he looked like the cat that ate the canary. I watched him swallow hard, then the gears in his head turning as if trying to come up with a cover or explanation. What the hell was going on?

Her eyes were wide, too, and she pointed a finger in his general direction. She stomped her foot on the ground and blew outwardly before directing all of her anger at him now. "You lying, cheating son of a bitch!"

He held up his hands and the towel wrapped around his waist fell down to the floor. "Shit!" He stared down at the floor and then back at her, clearly unsure what to say or do first. Not standing there stark naked would probably be job one, I thought.

As if reading my mind, he shouted "Wait!" while simultaneously picking the towel back up and wrapping it around his lower half in a hurry. "It's not what it looks like."

I knew he didn't have enough time to concoct a great answer, but that was the best he could come up with? Because it was exactly what it looked like.

The woman placed a hand on her hip and threw her hair behind her shoulder, scoffing. "Really? Then what the hell is going on here? ‘Cause it looks like you're cheating on me, your wife," she said, extending her ring finger in my direction, "with some cheap floozy."

Now, I scoffed. "I am not a floozy."

She shot me the dirtiest look. "How could you do this to us?" she asked, directing her question toward Michael. "What is wrong with you?"

Michael swallowed hard and just stared back at her a blank expression on his face. "I don't know." He rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Please, you need to hear me out. Can we just go someplace and talk about this?"

"No! You can go to hell as far as I'm concerned and you can take your little bitch with you. ‘Til death, my ass."

I didn't know if I was ever going to be able to pick my jaw up from the floor, but I managed to when she left, if for no other reason than to give the lying dirtbag next to me a piece of my mind. "You're married?"

He nodded. "But it's not what it seems. We're getting divorced."

"Does she know that?" I was so disgusted and infuriated I could've flung the vase on the table at his head. I didn't, though. "Does my father know?" I could hardly believe he'd allow me to get involved with a married man.

Michael had the decency to look ashamed, but he didn't outright answer me, which I figured was answer enough.

"Oh my God, you've made me the other woman!"

We'd been dating, sleeping together. What the hell was wrong with him?

I picked my clothes up from the floor and swiped my bra and panties from the back of the chair I tossed them on last night before we'd had sex for the last time. "You're a cheater, you know that, right? And a liar!"

"This was never supposed to happen this way," he said. "She gets half of everything if I cheat on her." He rolled his eyes. "It's in our prenup."

I scoffed. "None of that is my problem."

Michael walked over to me as I was getting dressed and placed his hands on my shoulder. "You have to look at me."

I really didn't want to.

"Just look at me, dammit."

I looked up at him and felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for the man that he was.

He continued, "Our marriage hasn't been easy. She's not the easiest woman to be with. When we first started dating, she was great. I proposed and we were happy, but she's changed. You have to believe me. I was going to divorce her. I'm having a friend draw up the paperwork. Then you and I could get married. I'll be a free man."

I gulped. "Get married? I would never marry you."

"You say that now, honey, but five minutes ago you were hoping to spend all day in bed with me."

The thought churned my stomach. "You make me sick!"

"Don't think about her. Forget about her. I know I will."

I shook my head. "This is wrong and I will not be the other woman. I refuse." By this point I was starting to collect my things, ready to leave the same way his wife did.

He looked smug. "As you said, Jenna, you already are the other woman." Then he crossed his arms as though to prove his point that I was the only fool right now.

"Well, that ends now, because I'm leaving and you're never going to contact me again. I don't ever want to see you again. Do you understand?" I felt like I was talking to a toddler, but I had to be clear.

"That's going to be a little hard to do."

"Well, you better make it easy, or you'll be sorry," I warned.

"Your parents adore me and your father thinks of me as his best friend. The only one that's going to have a problem here is you. Face it, Jenna, I'm not going anywhere."

I loudened my voice. "Well, I'm going to avoid you like the plague."

"You don't mean that," he retorted.

"Go screw yourself, you bastard!" I ran my hands angrily through my hair. How did my life get so messed up?

Michael only smirked at me and all I wanted to do was slap him right across his face. He knew exactly what he was doing and was enjoying every single last second of it. My misery was bringing him great joy.

"You're not going to be able to stay away," he insisted.

"You're not that irresistible."

He harrumphed. "We'll see about that."

I rolled my eyes and pushed him out of my way by shoving my purse at him. "Goodbye, Michael."

"See you around, Jenna," he responded, just as my phone rang.

Saved by the bell, I thought. As I began walking down the hallway to the elevator, I answered it. "Hello?"

"Oh, good, you picked up." It was Mary.

I cringed. It was horrible, but I really did have a reputation for not picking up and letting it go to voicemail. But lately I'd been trying to be better at answering any call I got because nine times out of ten it was Mary with updates on Deacon.

"Of course. What's going on?"

"Deacon's coming home. He'll be arriving in an hour."

So soon. But I was also so relieved for him, for his family. "Thank God." I knew he was safe with only minor injuries to speak of, thankfully, but I had no idea he'd still be returning as planned. Thinking about him and all he'd been through, my heart went out to him. I blew outwardly and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I pushed the elevator button to take me to the lobby. "Thank you, Mary, for calling and telling me." I was wrapping up the call, or so I thought.

She hurried and added, "Wait, Jenna, don't hang up. I was telling you so you could come and welcome him home yourself. Stop by my house and see him."

The last time I was at her house I'd lost everything that ever meant anything to me. I shook my head and refused to think of any of that. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

I looked down at my feet in my fire-engine red stilettos and sighed heavily as I listened to Mary say, "It's been long enough, don't you think? Deacon could've died and you said there was so much you didn't get to say to him. Now you can. You got a second chance. We all did. Take it."

The problem was, I wasn't the same woman Deacon fell in love with. I had changed and, in many ways, I wasn't sure he'd think it was for the better. After we I lost the baby, I went on a downward spiral and I couldn't save myself. When my mother gave me an out to being the old Jenna, I took it and never looked back. It was much easier to get absorbed in the world I was brought up in with my parents and their country club friends than to be the girl who loved and lost so much. Too much.

"Mary, I'm the last person he wants to see. Trust me."

I heard her chuckle. "Dear, you're exactly what he needs right now. You have no idea how much he still loves you, do you?"

I knew Mary's insistence was coming from a good place, but Deacon did not still love me. There was no way. And even if he did, he certainly wouldn't be feeling the same way had he known the secret I'd been keeping from him all this time.

I knew that when Mary called about his accident I'd promised to open up to him and share everything if only I was given the chance and he survived. However, it turned out I was a liar because I couldn't do it. It wouldn't do him any good knowing. Mary and I agreed years ago that it would only tear him up inside, like it did me. We both kept it from him, so it would be useless to spill my guts now.

It was easier to just let him go and start a new life, one that didn't include him or the love we once shared.

I walked through the lobby and left the hotel without looking back. "Jenna, you still there?" Mary questioned.

Grateful for her and not wanting to let her down, I replied, "Not today, okay? Maybe tomorrow. That way he'll have time to get acclimated."

I imagined her rolling her eyes. "You work tomorrow," she said, knowing all too well I was just putting it off. "Jenna, I know what you're doing. It's not going to work. It's never going to be easy. You have to just rip the Band-Aid off."

Tears burned my eyes. I was never very good at hiding things from her, so I didn't bother trying now. "Mary, I don't think I can. What if you're wrong? What if he feels nothing for me? I couldn't stand it. Please, can't you see where I'm coming from? I screwed everything up and my life is more of a mess now than it was back then. All he'll see when he looks at me will be disappointment. I can't have that, it'll break my heart."

"What's wrong, Jenna? This doesn't sound like you. You know Deacon won't care about any of that. And I know you still love him. Time and distance doesn't always change that." She wasn't wrong about the way I felt. I would always love Deacon, until the day I took my last breath. But that didn't necessarily mean she was right that nothing else changed, because it had. Too much had.

I couldn't remember where I parked my car and began walking around in circles. "Where did I park?" I whispered to myself.

"What was that?" Mary asked.

"Oh, sorry, not you. I was talking to myself."

"Just come, Jenna. You won't regret it. I have to get the house ready for when Deacon arrives, and I really don't want to play dirty, but you've left me no choice. If you don't stop by, then you leave me no choice."

"No choice but to do what?" I was almost afraid to hear what she'd say, but I had to know what she was talking about.

"But to tell him everything."

"He doesn't need to know any of it, Mary."

"Then I'll see you in a little bit. And he'll only know exactly what you choose to tell him." She hung up right after, not giving me the chance to respond.

Ooh, she wasn't kidding when she said she'd play dirty.