The Work Wife

by Allison B Hanson

  “Used to be, we all carried our luggage.” This comment earned a shudder from the personal shopper.

  “Are you saying Jamie should have to carry her luggage? We’re going to be in Jamaica for nearly a week. It will probably weigh as much as she does.”

  “No,” the man conceded.

  “If you’re afraid I’m spoiling her, please let me know,” Wes joked. As tough as Chris Witmer was, he took care of his princess. “Would you be able to put a bow on the handle?” Wes apparently had the same affliction.

  One thing was certain, he didn’t expect the purple luggage with the circles to do a damn bit of good toward cheering her up after she heard the news about her father. But it would make her smile for another day at least.

  “I wasn’t expecting to like whoever would eventually marry my daughter,” Mr. Witmer said as they left the store to go home. Wes could have sworn the older man had choked up. “I’m glad you’re here for her. I know you’ll take care of her.”

  “Until my last breath, I promise.” It was an easy promise to make. It didn’t take a vow or a marriage license. It didn’t take love or sex. His promise came from the years they’d spent together and the bond of friendship they’d forged.

  He would always take care of Jamie. And he knew Jamie would always take care of him.

  * * * *

  The lasagna was just about to come out of the oven when her dad and Wes came through the door.

  Wes was pulling a purple suitcase, and when she saw the bow she realized it wasn’t for him. Maybe the purple part should have clued her in.

  “Surprise!” Wes said.

  “You got me a present? You shouldn’t have done that.” He really shouldn’t have. She was already squatting in his house.

  “I don’t want to have to carry your broke-ass suitcase around Jamaica,” Wes explained, but had he just been concerned about replacing her broken suitcase, any old thing would have sufficed. He wouldn’t have gone out of his way to get a fancy one in her favorite color.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s a six-piece set, complete with a toiletry bag,” her father added with a smirk.

  There must be a story there, but she didn’t care enough to ask. At that moment the timer went off. “Time for dinner. Come sit down.”

  She heard some mumbling from the other room, but they quieted when she came in bearing her culinary offerings.

  “How’s the lasagna?” Jamie asked when Wes and her dad had taken their third bite.

  “It’s actually good,” her father said in surprise.

  “Really?” She looked to Wes, who wouldn’t sugarcoat it.

  “Much better. No crunch.”

  “I went with your suggestion to use sauce from a jar instead of making my own.”

  “Good call,” her dad said with an emphatic nod. Obviously her sauce had been a weak link in the recipe.

  She smiled proudly when both men took seconds. Wes had made the salad while her father chatted from his perch at the bar. It had felt real.

  Watching her father and husband joke together warmed her heart. It was something she’d never thought to wish for. Anytime she’d ever thought of having a husband, she always assumed her father would hate the guy and she would forever be the referee between them.

  It wasn’t the case for Wes and her dad. They were actually getting along.

  When dinner was over, Wes insisted on doing the dishes himself so she could have some time with her dad alone.

  It was the look he gave her when he made the suggestion that ruined her perfect moment. His eyes were filled with compassion and something else. Pity maybe?

  Her suspicions rose even more when Wes didn’t come to bed after she’d announced it was getting late. Instead he’d pulled out a bottle of Jameson and two tumblers and sat with her father. He stayed up talking with her dad until after she’d fallen asleep. He’d slipped into bed next to her very late, smelling of toothpaste and whiskey.

  She didn’t have a chance to talk to Wes alone on Sunday either. He was busy making them breakfast, and then it was time to take her father to the airport.

  Every minute that passed, she could feel the unspoken thing between them getting bigger and bigger.

  When they pulled up to the passenger drop-off area, Wes busied himself getting her father’s suitcase from the back of the car.

  “Thank you for coming up,” she said.

  “Thanks for giving up your weekend.”

  “Anytime.”

  “I love you, princess.”

  “I love you too.” She hugged him and noticed he held her a little longer and a little tighter than normal.

  Wes popped up the handle on her father’s suitcase and rolled it over. They didn’t have time for a big chat. Why hadn’t she forced them to tell her what was going on last night?

  Because you didn’t want to know.

  Wes shook her father’s hand and they shared a look she didn’t understand.

  “Have fun in Jamaica. Take pictures. I want to hear all about it when you get home,” her father said.

  “We will. Have a safe trip home. Text me when you get there,” Jamie ordered.

  “Yes. Yes, I will.” He paused before he came back and hugged her again. “I’m proud of you, Jamie. Your lasagna was really good.”

  “Thank you.” Tears welled up in her eyes as they looked at each other, both knowing they weren’t discussing her cooking.

  “Wes. Thank you.” Her father gave him a nod and then a quick manly hug before he rushed off into the airport.

  She felt Wes’s arms around her as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

  “The cancer’s back,” she whispered into his coat. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  Chapter 12

  The trip back to his apartment was one of the most wretched things Wes had ever had to do. Jamie jumped from emotion to emotion in the twenty minutes it took to get home. She started with anger, worked her way through betrayal to arrive at agony and defeat.

  By the time they arrived, she seemed to be back to anger, and it was directed at him.

  “You should have told me.”

  “I promised him I wouldn’t. He wanted this trip to be normal. He’s getting ready to go to battle, Jamie. He wanted to have a few normal days with his daughter to prepare for that, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to take any chances with his process. If this was what he needed to give him the strength to get through this, I wasn’t going to mess it up.”

  “You should have told me,” she repeated, but with less vehemence. She used her key to let them in the apartment.

  “And what would have happened? This? The crying and the worrying? He wanted to spend time with you as your dad, not as a patient, not as a burden. I understood.”

  “My dad would never be a burden.”

  “I know he’s not a burden, but the worry is. He can’t stop you from worrying, but he could avoid having to see it in your eyes every time you looked at him. Can you blame him? If you were on the other side of this, what would you have done?”

  He hadn’t noticed she was picking things up around the living room. He thought she was just straightening up as a way to expend pent-up rage, but she was . . . packing.

  She dried off her favorite coffee mug and set it on the counter next to her hot mats.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yes. I don’t really live here. I’m as much of a liar as my father.” She shook her head and tossed some dish towels into a box.

  “Why don’t you stay tonight? You can pack tomorrow. I don’t think you should be alone.”

  “I’m fine.” Apparently the word fine meant something different to the Witmer family. “I want to be alone.”

  Rather than push her, he went around gathering her things and helped carry the
few boxes out to her car.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at work?” he checked.

  “Yeah. Thanks again for letting my father and me stay here for the weekend.”

  “No problem. Anytime.”

  He watched her drive away and then went back to his apartment. For a few days, he’d been part of a family. With all the messy emotions that came with them. Now, he was on the outside again. Alone.

  * * * *

  Jamie tossed and turned for hours. Her father had texted to say he was home, but when she called he didn’t answer. He simply wrote back.

  I’m sorry. I’m not ready to talk yet.

  She looked at her alarm clock at the very instant it flipped to midnight. Her brain wouldn’t shut off. While the rest of her was exhausted, her mind was more than able to present worst-case scenarios over and over. Wes had relayed all the information her father had shared.

  He would be starting chemo first, then they would follow that up with radiation. They would give him time to recoup from that and then he’d have surgery to remove what was left of the cancer. His doctors were giving him good odds, but they weren’t 100 percent.

  Her newest fear—that he might give up on his treatment—was interrupted by a light knock at the door.

  She sat up, wondering if she’d imagined it. When it happened again, she propelled herself out of bed to rush to the door. She knew who it would be and she needed him more than her next breath. He was right, she shouldn’t be alone.

  In her hurry she opened the door without first unhooking the chain and had to fumble to get the door open. As soon as she did, large, warm arms surrounded her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I know he’s not my dad, but I’m scared too. You’re not in this alone.” He pulled her closer and she heard the sound of his bag sliding from his arm to the floor. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  She nodded and took him to her room. He kicked off his shoes and got in her bed, taking up most of it.

  “I sent Rob a message that we’re working from home tomorrow. You need rest. Come here.” He held out his arms and she shifted twice until she found her favorite spot.

  “He wouldn’t talk to me when I called.”

  “I know.” He kissed her hair and she let out a breath. “He’s not trying to keep you out. He’s trying to protect you. You might not like it, but it’s important to him.”

  Jamie nodded against Weston’s chest. The last time her father was sick, she’d been alone and terrified. She’d been in college and her father wouldn’t allow her to leave to be with him.

  She was forced to deal with it on her own, and maybe she’d become too clingy when summer break came and she was free to go home. Back then she hadn’t stopped to think about his worries. She had too many of her own.

  Now—thanks to Wes—she was able to see things from her father’s perspective. While she wanted to be with him and help him through this, her father wouldn’t want that. He’d dedicated his life to taking care of her. He didn’t like it when their roles got mixed up.

  “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

  “He said they caught it earlier than the last time, so his chances are better than when he was first diagnosed. Plus, he’s healthier than he had been initially. He’s been exercising and eating better. There’s no reason why he can’t beat this again.”

  They were the words she needed to hear. Looking back, Wes had told her this originally, but she was too focused on the overlying issue. The words the cancer is back had overshadowed everything else.

  “Do you really think he’s going to be okay?” She couldn’t help but ask again.

  “I do. If for no other reason than to tell us we were ridiculous for worrying.” They laughed together, Wes’s warm breath against her neck. She didn’t think she’d be able to laugh.

  “Thank you, Wes.”

  “No problem. I’m here for you. Always. I promised your dad.”

  * * * *

  Wes sat on the sofa next to Jamie as she called her father the next day. Occasionally she would stand up and pace around her small living room, but then she would come back and take his hand as if she needed the support. He was glad he could help, even in this small way.

  She was doing a good job. He knew she was still racked with worry, but she sounded positive and nonchalant on the phone. Wes didn’t think her father was buying it on the other end, but it was a step in the right direction. They were talking about things other than the cancer, and Jamie had even laughed.

  “Sure. He’s right here. I love you too. I will, I promise.” Jamie held the phone out to him. “I’m going to go take a shower and get dressed.”

  Wes thought that was a good idea. He nodded and put the phone up to his ear. “Hello.”

  “She’s putting on a good show,” Mr. Witmer said in reply.

  “She seems better now.”

  “She’s handling things better than the last time. Last time she came home from college and refused to leave. I had to pack her things and send her away. It was awful. I have someone watching her credit cards. If she tries to buy a plane ticket, the charge won’t go through.”

  Wes was impressed. And a little disturbed. “I’m going to take her for breakfast and then we’re going to do some work. I’ll keep her mind off things on this end. But you need to do your part too.”

  “Which is?”

  “Communicate. Keep her involved by phone. I think she’s so worried because she doesn’t know what’s going on and can’t trust you to tell her.”

  “I’ll do better with that. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Don’t die.”

  “On it.”

  Jamie seemed better by the next day, but Wes knew she was keeping a lot of stuff bottled up. Occasionally he would catch her staring out the window at their office.

  “Just call him, Jamie. He should have been done with chemo an hour ago. He might have forgotten to call.”

  “He doesn’t want me to fuss over him.”

  “Then he should call you when he promised.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  Before she could stop him, he pulled out his own phone and called.

  “Hello?” Mr. Witmer sounded like he’d just had the crap kicked out of him.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I feel like hell.”

  “I’m sure a call from your son-in-law is the icing on the cake.” His joke was met with a groan. “You have a daughter here who wants to know how it went.”

  “It apparently went okay. If the chemo is kicking my ass, hopefully it’s kicking the cancer’s ass too.”

  Wes nodded and gave Jamie a thumbs-up.

  “You get some rest and call us later when you feel up to it.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  “Thank you.” Wes disconnected the call and smiled. “He’s just tired. He’s going to call back later.”

  Jamie let out a big breath and with a nod went back to work.

  Mr. Witmer didn’t call that night, but he called the next morning sounding fit and chipper. Wes was able to talk Jamie out of flying down there to make sure he was all right.

  They went back to living in their own homes. Wes was glad Jamie didn’t need him in order to sleep through the night, but he had to admit he missed having her close.

  On Friday they would be leaving for a week in paradise. They would be together nonstop for the next week.

  “Are you packed?” he asked on Tuesday.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Are you kidding? We’re leaving in three days. I would have thought your suitcase would have been sitting by the door for weeks.”

  “I’ve been thinking . . .”

  “Oh, no.” If she changed her mind about this trip after everything they’d gone through, he would lose his ever-loving mind.


  “I talked to my dad last night and he sounded tired.”

  “You know the chemo makes him tired. It’s normal.”

  “Yeah, but what if something happens when I’m out of the country? What if he needs help?”

  “You’re talking about your dad? The man who could cut his arm off and ask for a Band-Aid? The man who wouldn’t ask you to come help him if his life literally depended on it?”

  “He’s so stubborn.”

  “Like father, like—” Her glare made him stop in his tracks. He didn’t need to take every opportunity she presented. “Anyway, he will be pissed if you skip this trip so you can fuss over him. And I’m not just saying that, because I will be pissed if you stand me up on our couples’ retreat.”

  “You’re right. I know that. But I just wish he had more friends down there. His friends are more about drinking a pint at the pub than visiting him during chemo. The neighbor lady makes him dinner sometimes, but I’m not sure if she would notice if he didn’t answer the door for a week.”

  “Are you even going to be able to have fun on this trip?”

  “I’m not sure.” She winced and he knew he couldn’t be mad at her. He would need to come up with a way to put her at ease. If that was even possible.

  * * * *

  Two days later they were in the office working on a bid for a gymnasium, when Jamie’s phone rang. He could tell by the way she snatched it up to answer that it was her father.

  “Daddy? You okay?”

  Wes smiled at the endearment. He couldn’t imagine having that kind of relationship with his mother. He didn’t think the word mommy had ever crossed his lips. She had always been Mother.

  “What are you—? Yeah, he’s right here. I’ll put you on speaker.”

  Wes had an idea he wasn’t going to want to be on speaker with her father.

  “—that sneaky son of a bitch.”

  “Daddy, what are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about him hiring a nurse to come to the house every day and make sure I am okay. How many times do I have to tell you, I’m fine?”