The Sidelined Wife (More Than a Wife Series Book 1)

by Jennifer Peel

  So who do I think I am?

  I’m the woman who would have sat alone tonight in the stands if it wasn’t for my loving family. I’m the woman who could have used a friendly hello, but received nothing but a few strained smiles and a cold shoulder or two by people I had once considered friends. People I need now more than ever. I’m the woman who ached to turn to her spouse tonight to revel in our son’s accomplishments, but knew that was forever lost to me.

  I’m the woman who couldn’t stand the sight of myself in the mirror for months and did all I could to avoid it. I have hated myself more than anyone could hate me. I’m the woman who gets up every day and puts on the mask of a brave face because there is someone I love more than myself and, at the very least, my son deserves that. I’m the woman you think you know so much about because you see my mask. I’m the woman who has judged others the same way and, now more than ever, feels ashamed of my behavior. I’m imperfect and, quite honestly, a mess, but I’m muddling through trying to figure it all out. I’m the woman that will keep falling and making mistakes.

  I no longer get to have the title “wife,” but I’m finding I’m more than that. I’m finding more about myself every day. Some things I like, some things need to change.

  That’s who I think I am.

  I read over it a dozen times. It was bold, but all true. In my middle-of-the-night exhaustion, I threw caution to the wind and published it, knowing it would now go automatically to my Facebook page and Twitter account that Delanie had set up for me.

  I needed to sleep if I wanted to look decent at all for the photo shoot. Maybe I should cancel. Give up this whole Sidelined Wife business. It obviously had ramifications I hadn’t foreseen, and now I just added fuel to the fire. I should really quit doing things when I’m angry and confused.

  Things to work on in the morning.

  I drifted off into a restless sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Oooh. I love this one.” Avery pointed at the picture on Delanie’s tablet of me leaning against the faded blue door looking sultry—or was that bored? I couldn’t tell.

  I had so many pictures taken of me yesterday that my cheek muscles still hurt. Not that I was smiling in all of them, but Delanie’s friend, Roger, spent two hours shooting photo after photo of me in all sorts of poses and different locations around downtown Clearfield.

  We had all come early for Sunday dinner so Delanie could show us the proofs of the photo shoot. It was decision time. I was all for not choosing. Though I was enjoying the autumn breeze on my parents’ front porch. We were hiding outside so Ma and Mimsy didn’t feel the need to get involved. And I didn’t need another story about the soap opera taking place at the retirement community. I still couldn’t shake the Depends around the ankle image in my mind. And the ice boat wasn’t going anywhere, so Ma was still upset with Dad.

  “Maybe I could be like Autumn Moone and my photo could be of a football field’s sideline. That’s clever.” At least, I thought it was.

  Delanie, who was between us on the porch swing, shook her head. “You already used your real name and you’re writing about real life, so they need the real you. Autumn Moone only gets away with it because she started out unknown and her publisher made it part of their marketing plan.”

  “How do you know?” Avery asked.

  Delanie pulled up the next batch of photos. “I think I read it somewhere on a marketing blog.”

  “Huh. Well, it works for her.” Avery was already eagerly scanning the new batch of photos.

  This set was taken in front of a brick wall. In some I was leaning back, others had only one shoulder touching. In a few I was smiling, or was that smirking? There were serious, studious poses mixed in with playful candid shots of me rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of it all or throwing my hands up. My favorite was the three of us laughing together. I think I had just tripped up some steps and Delanie and Avery had caught me.

  “Let’s use that one,” I suggested, pointing at the photo of the three of us. It represented more of who I really was, and I hated being the only subject.

  Avery and Delanie nixed that idea.

  “By the way,” Delanie said as she enlarged a photo she liked that had an artistic flair. I was standing in front of an old sign that read, Crossroads. How fitting. “I loved the new post. I hope those women read it and choke on their self-righteousness.”

  Avery agreed. “I feel terrible we left you alone after the game.”

  “Please don’t. You guys have lives. I don’t need to be babysat.”

  And someone was there to comfort me, though I didn’t mention him or that fact he called me yesterday to ask if I would like to have a real dinner with him sometime this week. I said I would think about it, but probably not. He only laughed, not deterred at all.

  “Besides,” I continued. “What upset me most was Cody. He’s hurting and he won’t talk about it. And all Neil can do is blame the divorce on me.”

  He’d had the audacity to call me back and inform me our family’s situation was all my fault and I was turning Cody against him. We had some choice words before I hung up on him. I was glad the call had come after the photo shoot, or I would have looked like a splotchy, red, puffy-eyed mess.

  Avery swore in French. I smiled at her. “Someday, you will have to tell me what those words mean and how to say them right.”

  “I’m happy to teach you some Spanish vulgarity too,” Delanie offered. She’d volunteered in the inner-city schools in Phoenix where they had a high population of children from Mexico. It was where she met my brother.

  “Perfect, the more the better.”

  We focused back on the pictures.

  “Does my hair look too big? Do you think your friend could make me look twenty and svelte?”

  “You look fantastic.” Delanie nudged me.

  I stared at my unruly curls, done movie-star style thanks to Avery. The denim shirt brought out the blue in my gray eyes.

  While we hemmed and hawed over which picture to use, Reed pulled up. I knew he was coming, and I had been reminding myself not to act any different around him. I’d told him he better do the same.

  He didn’t listen. He came sauntering up with five bouquets of flowers. It looked like a multi-colored rosebush had exploded on him.

  I ignored him, but my sisters-in-law didn’t.

  “Reed,” Avery’s voice was so cheery, “you’re going to make Mom happy.” Avery had always called Ma, Mom. Delanie, I think, tried not to call Ma anything, except for names in her head.

  Reed approached while I tried to keep as focused as I could on the screen. I still caught his smirk from the corner of my eye.

  “I realized how rude I’d been, only bringing one Decker woman flowers.”

  “Aren’t you the sweetest thing.” Avery jumped up to survey the roses. “James never brings me flowers unless it’s my birthday or our anniversary.”

  Reed carefully handed her the lavender bouquet out of the mix. That was so sweet. I had mentioned something to him about my niece Hannah and how her favorite color was any shade of purple.

  “These are gorgeous, thank you.” Avery inhaled their scent.

  “Delanie?” Reed held out three of the four remaining bouquets; he was holding back the peach bouquet with baby’s breath. They were gorgeous. I figured he got them for Ma.

  Delanie eyed him suspiciously. She was a smart one. Was she on to him?

  “Yellow works for me.” She went right back to work, laying the roses next to her where Avery had been sitting. Reed had failed to impress her. Probably because Peter was always bringing home thoughtful gifts, whether it was flowers or her favorite candy, sour cherry jelly beans. Once he even had me help pick out the perfect colored pencils to go with the adult coloring book he had purchased her.

  Reed didn’t seem fazed by Delanie’s lack of enthusiasm. His sights landed on me instead. “How are you, Sam?”

  I gave him my full attention, since ignoring him would have o
nly drawn the kind of attention I was hoping to avoid. Like the kind he was bringing.

  With a grin wider than Texas, he handed me the beautiful deluxe bouquet of peach roses. “I thought you would like these.”

  I wanted to shake my head at him or kick his exposed shin.

  “Peach roses are your favorite,” Avery commented.

  “How did you know that?” Delanie interrogated him.

  Reed didn’t miss a beat. “She mentioned it last week when I gave Mrs. D some.”

  Those hadn’t been as nice as the ones he was handing me.

  “Thank you.” I swiped them and turned back to the screen. He needed to go.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t in a hurry. “What are you ladies doing out here?”

  Avery’s eyes lit up. “We’re helping Sam choose a photo for her blog and social media sites. Maybe you can help. It would be good to get a male perspective.

  That was a terrible idea. “We can just ask Peter or James later. I’m sure Reed wants to go in and hang out with the guys.”

  “I’m happy to help.” The mischievous boyhood glint was back in his eyes. He walked behind us and looked over my shoulder, though he would have gotten a better view closer to Delanie. His cologne wafted in the autumn breeze, making me catch my breath.

  Avery took her seat and laid both her and Delanie’s flowers on her lap. “I love this one best, I think.” Avery pointed again to the one of me in front of the blue door.

  Delanie’s vote was for the crossroads sign one.

  I had no vote, except to be done.

  Reed studied each picture carefully, asking Delanie to go back and forth a few times. “Wait. Go back to the one of her on the steps in front of the old church.”

  Delanie enlarged the picture in front of the old church house on Main Street. I was leaning forward with my arms resting on my legs, hands clasped together. I wore a hint of a smile.

  “That’s it,” Delanie said. “It speaks to your vulnerability and strength. It’s perfect.”

  “Yes,” Avery agreed.

  Both women turned back toward Reed. “Good eye,” they echoed each other.

  No one asked my opinion. But if I had to choose one, I guess it would work. I stared at the woman in the photo. She looked more confident than I felt.

  Delanie stood up with her tablet. “I’m going to call Roger and let him know which one to touch up.”

  “Lots of touch-up,” I called after her.

  “I better go get these in water.” Avery started toward the door with both bouquets.

  I stood up. “I better do the same.”

  Reed met me around the porch swing. “Sam, do you think I could talk to you for a minute about the pancake breakfast the team is doing on Saturday?”

  Avery didn’t seem to find that out of the ordinary and left me there with him. I hadn’t even volunteered to help with that particular fundraiser. And after the way I had been treated on Friday night, I wasn’t sure I was going to go. My contribution for the season would be to sell tickets at the school and donate money.

  But it was good Avery left; with only the two of us, I was able to let loose on him.

  “What are you thinking, bringing everyone flowers?”

  “I knew you had been a little down, so I thought flowers might cheer you up. But I didn’t think you would appreciate it if I singled you out.”

  “You shouldn’t be giving me flowers at all.”

  “I disagree. By the way, you looked gorgeous in those pictures. Do you think I could get a copy of a few?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was teasing or not. I sighed.

  He smirked.

  “We better go in.”

  “Not yet. I didn’t ask you about the pancake breakfast. You don’t want to make me a liar, do you?”

  My look said he was pressing his luck.

  He pressed it further by getting as close as he could, with only flowers between us. I was starting to see the man in him. He wore stubble well. And his eyes? Beautiful.

  I took a small step back, not sure how to feel. Or perhaps I didn’t want to feel at all.

  His grin said he knew he was getting to me.

  “Ask your question,” I said, a little breathless.

  “The restaurant wants to know if we want to use real butter or margarine. What do you think?”

  “I think you need better excuses.”

  “Hey, that was good for on the fly.”

  “If you say so. Tell the restaurant you want the real deal. Butter.”

  He inched forward. “How do I get the real deal with you?”

  That was a question I didn’t have an answer for.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  While Cody was finishing up homework Sunday night after returning from my parents’, I went online. I hadn’t logged in since Friday night—technically, the wee hours of Saturday morning. Honestly, commenting and posting could be a full-time job. My Saturday had been too busy attending my nephews’ track meet and the photo shoot to even think about getting online. I’d also wanted to do something fun with Cody yesterday, so we headed to an indoor go-kart track for an evening of fun.

  The new status quo when I got online was a barrage of emails, comments, shares, and likes. I already had twenty-five thousand people like my Facebook page. It kind of blew my mind. Though, just like in my real world, not everyone online liked me, but the majority of followers and comments were nothing but nice. Several people, mostly women, shared their own stories about how divorce changed their social circles. They even linked helpful articles, like “Coping with Divorce,” “Life After Divorce,” “How to Deal with the Loneliness.” I bookmarked each one of those links. I needed all the help I could get.

  One woman, who professed to be a psychologist, commented that it was common for friends that my husband and I had had as a couple to be awkward around only me. She recommended that I move on and find new friends. She said women may resent or fear me now that I’m single. That made me feel so much better, because it wasn’t bad enough that my husband left me for a younger woman. Though the jerk still claimed it was me that left him. For a doctor, he was an idiot. Avery taught me a new word for him, le salaud. I was going to love learning French.

  While I was responding to my “friends,” I received a text from Reed.

  Would this be a good time to talk?

  I looked upstairs from the living room couch. Cody’s door was shut. Then I looked at the beautiful bouquet in a vase on the coffee table in front of me. I thought about the way Reed’s leg touched mine all during dinner, and how his hand purposely brushed mine when I handed him the salad dressing. So maybe there was a hint of a spark.

  Do you need more advice on dairy products? I texted back.

  This is much more important. Can I call you?

  It should be a simple yes or no answer, but this was anything but simple. What did I say? I took a few minutes to think.

  So is that a yes, you can’t wait to talk to me? he texted again.

  I laughed to myself. When did he get to be so charming? Okay.

  My phone immediately buzzed.

  “Hello,” I whispered.

  “Should I talk in hushed tones too?”

  “If you want.” I got up and walked into my room so Cody wouldn’t hear me.

  “Are you saying you want me to whisper in your ear?” He thought he was so funny and laughed at himself.

  I couldn’t help myself; I laughed too. “Did you need something?”

  “Need? Hmm. Want? Yes.”

  “And what is it you want?”

  “Two things. First, I want you to say yes to my dinner invitation. Second, I want your address.”

  “Can’t you just get it off Cody’s paperwork?”

  “Well, I could, but that borders on being a stalker.”

  “I agree, so thank you for not going that route. Why do you want it?”

  “I was thinking that the next time I gave you flowers, it would be cheaper if I had them delivered to
you instead of buying some for your entire family.”

  “That would be more economical, but not necessary.”

  “It could be.”

  “When has anyone needed flowers?”

  “We all do. They help rid the air of carbon dioxide and other toxins. And they feed honey bees. Where would the world be without honey?”

  “It would be bleak and dreary, I suppose.” I played along with the ridiculous conversation, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Exactly. So what’s your address?”

  “I don’t think bees feed off cut and delivered flowers.” I wasn’t giving in.

  Neither was he. “Debatable, but think of the florist’s job you could be saving.”

  “I’m always up for a good cause. I guess I’ll start buying more flowers for myself. Thanks for bringing the plight of the florists to my attention.”

  “That did not go how I wanted it to go.”

  I laughed at him.

  “Sam.” His serious tone halted my laughter. “Have dinner with me.”

  I paused and paused some more. “Reed, it’s so complicated.”

  “Because you may have been the older person in charge of me and Peter a few times a hundred years ago?”

  I noticed how he refused to say babysat. “There’s that, but you’re Cody’s coach. Think about what people would say if they knew we went on a date. I don’t ever want anyone to question why Cody’s on that team or anything he accomplishes on that field.”

  It was his turn to pause. His breathing patterns indicated he was deep in thought. “I don’t want that either, but anyone that sees Cody’s talent will know he’s earned it.”