Luck, Love & Lemon Pie

by Amy E. Reichert

  “I’ve screwed everything up,” Kate moaned.

  “Sweetie, that’s what we do. We muck it up and we fix it. Everybody makes mistakes, but it’s how we fix them that matters, that shows our true character. We’re Boudreauxs—we’re tough and feisty and smart. You haven’t done anything that can’t be fixed.” MJ looked at her daughter.

  “I can’t B-DIO.”

  “And you shouldn’t. There’s no more B-DIO. From now on, it’s B-DIT—Boudreauxs Do It Together.”

  Kate took a deep breath and used her sleeve to sop up the tears, her body trembling as her emotions worked their way out, but MJ already knew it’d be okay—for Kate, at least.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was Pavlovian—if MJ was with Lisa and Ariana, she wanted the familiar smell of coffee and fresh-baked scones. Ariana’s office smelled lovely enough, like lilac. Comfortable with squashy chairs and pleasant impressionistic art, her office was safe and nonthreatening. It reminded her a bit of a funeral home, except this was where a marriage came to die. Being here instead of the coffee shop was one more sign that everything was different. She’d kissed another man, played poker with the highest of rollers in Vegas, and Chris wanted a divorce. Not to be outdone, polished and professional Ariana had been having a fling with a twentysomething counselor. Yes, everything was different.

  “So, these are what they look like.” Lisa had the divorce agreement in her hands.

  “What were you expecting? Stone tablets?” Ariana said. She held out her hand for the papers and Lisa relinquished them. She flipped through them with the ease of someone who knew exactly what to look for. “This seems fairly standard and the terms are more than fair. Do you want me to negotiate?”

  MJ snatched them back.

  “No. I’m not going to sign them. These are just a scare tactic. He’d been pushed to the edge and didn’t know what else to do. But we can still fix this.”

  Lisa squeezed MJ’s hand while Ariana tapped a pen on the desktop.

  “People don’t serve divorce papers as a scare tactic. He’s serious. How did you find out?”

  “Tommy called when he found them. Then Chris left them on the bed while I was still sleeping.”

  “And what about this?” Ariana held up the photo. “It doesn’t look good for your case when anyone can find proof of infidelity online.”

  MJ shifted in her armchair.

  “It was a bet.” Her friends leaned back in their chairs, crossed their arms, and waited for MJ to keep talking. “I know. I know. I was lonely and vulnerable. Chris had cut me off. Yes, it was actually a bet, but he wouldn’t have held me to it. It was a low moment, and so I kissed him.” MJ looked down at her hands in her lap as if this were another poker game, but this was no game.

  “And? Tell her what you told me.” Lisa said.

  A pathetic chuckle escaped MJ’s throat.

  “It was so incredibly boring. I would have been more titillated kissing Lisa.”

  “That’s a given,” Lisa said.

  “The truth is I only want Chris and even though I’m terrified it’s too late, I’m not giving up until I make this right.”

  “Have you talked to him about Doyle?” Lisa asked.

  “No. And I’m not sure how.”

  “No more delays, no more secrets,” Ariana said. “That’s your only recourse if you don’t want to end up signing these.” She poked at the papers, bright white against the dark wood of the desk. MJ hated the sight of them. If only she could toss them in the shredder behind Ariana’s chair. But the problem wasn’t with the paper; the problem was something she caused, and she would fix this.

  “We’ll talk today.”

  The Boudreaux family rode in silence to tae kwon do. When MJ had tried to speak, Chris had turned up the radio. She watched him without turning her head. His jaw twitched and he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. As soon as he pulled into the parking space in front of the dojang, the kids hopped out, probably grateful to escape the tension.

  “We’ll meet you inside,” MJ said out the open window. She turned to Chris. “We need to talk about this.”

  He didn’t turn to her. His hands still strangled the steering wheel. “What’s there to talk about? The document is straightforward.”

  “I’m not signing those papers, especially without talking first.”

  “We grew apart. You’ve never needed me. Now you’ve replaced me.”

  “What are you talking about? I haven’t replaced you for anything.”

  He finally turned to look at her, his blue eyes a blaze of tortured memories.

  “Doyle.” Her mild-mannered husband practically growled out the word.

  Now was her chance to explain that stupid kiss. Explain all the different ways she loved Chris, how she loved him more than ever now. This was her chance to fix everything. She had to find the right words, the perfect words to make it clear how much she needed him in her life. Without him, she’d been bobbing along like a forgotten plastic bucket left at the beach. Chris huffed his impatience and MJ squeaked out the first of her confessions.

  “It was a bet and I lost, but it—”

  “That’s your explanation? A bet!” Chris’s voice filled the car. Panic spread from MJ’s core to her fingertips. She rubbed her hands on her knees. Why on earth did she start there?

  “He doesn’t matter. And you were with Tammie . . .”

  “If this is your attempt to salvage our marriage, I know I don’t want to be in it anymore.”

  “So it’s okay for you to be with Tammie, and I can’t have an awful kiss with Doyle after you were so cold to me?” She was doing this all wrong.

  Her face hurt from holding back her tears, which had turned from guilty to angry, but a few escaped, searing down her cheeks. He was avoiding her question. Chris closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them, he spoke in a whisper.

  “I bumped into Tammie at the casino.” MJ raised an eyebrow. “We reminisced about college. She shared that life wasn’t going great—she had gotten a divorce and moved here last year to be farther from her ex. Then it got worse. She was diagnosed with cancer and didn’t have anyone to talk to, so we started meeting up. She needed someone to turn to during her treatment, and I was able to share all my worries about us.”

  “Wait. She has cancer?” MJ struggled with her sympathy for Tammie. She needed to focus on her marriage first. “You could have told me.”

  “That’s the thing. I couldn’t. I tried a few times, but it was like talking to a wall.” MJ flinched. “And then you were gone all the time and I didn’t understand what had happened. My best friend was gone and this other person seemed to understand and was willing to listen. We were there for each other. It was just talk.”

  MJ studied her husband. He was telling the truth. It was so plain on his face, as was the hurt she’d caused him. But why Tammie?

  “And not for one second did you think she was playing you? Tammie does not like me.”

  Chris looked confused, then certain.

  “Of course she wasn’t playing me. She was sick and alone. You’re the one who still doesn’t like her. She got over that ages ago.”

  MJ rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, when her phone buzzed. Chris’s eyes narrowed.

  “Are you going to get that?”

  “No.”

  “It’s him, isn’t it? You wouldn’t want to miss that.” Chris opened the car door and started to get out.

  MJ’s heart broke. She threw her phone at the dashboard, where it bounced off and fell to the floor, still buzzing—the picture of her and Doyle filling the screen.

  “This isn’t what I want!”

  Tears stung her eyes as she struggled to find the words to convey her hurt and guilt and anger. Chris paused and got back in the car, then pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting for her to continue. All the rational and calm parts of her brain had melted. Her breath came in short gasps as she rubbed her knees even faster. />
  “You left me for a card game, MJ.”

  “You left me first! You missed our fucking anniversary for cards. And that wasn’t the first time. You get a free pass, but I don’t?”

  “I didn’t kiss anyone!” Chris banged on the steering wheel.

  “It was a bet! And it sucked.” MJ’s throat hurt from yelling and crying.

  “So it only counts if it’s a good kiss?”

  Words choked on their way out, unable to get past the pent-up anger and hurt gushing out of her. Chris grabbed the door handle again.

  “You’ve been keeping me at arm’s length for twenty-five years, waiting for me to leave you like your dad left your mom. Well, congratulations, it’s finally fucking happening.”

  He got out and slammed the door.

  MJ folded over, her chest heaving for air between sobs. How did this all get so out of control? She’d just wanted to have an honest talk and save their marriage, and its demise seemed certain.

  She needed to pull it together long enough to watch her children. They deserved that.

  She’d taken a few deep breaths, when her phone buzzed again. A text from Doyle. She picked the phone off the car floor.

  I want to sponsor you in the GPF. You in?

  MJ scrunched her face and chewed her lip. But truthfully she knew the answer before she even finished reading the question. Poker was no longer on her radar. It had caused her too many problems, and the excitement was too convenient of a distraction.

  MJ: No, but thank you for the offer. I’m done with poker. I have more important things to focus on. Good luck, Doyle.

  Doyle: Thanks. I’ll need it. Off to the homeland. Family. Luck to you, too.

  She looked through the window as her children moved to the floor for their group’s turn.

  With one last wipe to dry her face, MJ slid on her glasses, hoping they would block the worst of her tear-ravaged skin, and walked into the studio alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  After an awkward car ride home, MJ followed Chris into their bedroom and shut the door. She watched as he stood in the closet, staring at his rack of clothes.

  “The kids were amazing. I took some great pictures.”

  He picked nonexistent lint off a shirt while the muscles in his jaw shifted under his skin and his eyes glistened.

  “Chris?”

  “I think I should leave.” The words shot out like missiles aimed at her heart. MJ looked at him, praying she had misunderstood.

  “What?”

  “I need to not be around you for a while.”

  MJ leaned on the wall, blinking back the shock of his words and swallowing her tears. “If that’s what will make you happy.”

  “Jesus Christ, MJ.” He waved his hands in the air. “None of this makes me happy.”

  Without another word, Chris packed a bag, hugged the kids, and left. MJ stood in the kitchen and watched it all happen. After the door banged shut, Tommy and Kate turned to their mom, broken hearts stamped on their faces. She held her arms open and they both came in for a hug. Pulling back after a moment, she looked at her downtrodden children. Seeing the pain on their faces made her more determined.

  “This isn’t over. I’m not giving up so easily. Remember, B-DIT.” She kissed their cheeks. “Now, I need to make a few phone calls. Will you be okay for a bit?”

  “What are you going to do?” Kate asked.

  “First, I’m going to call Grandma. We’ll take it from there.”

  She squished them to her one more time, then went upstairs to her bedroom, clutching her phone in her hand. She gently shut the bedroom door and let all her strength drain out of her. MJ flopped onto the bed, their bed. She held Chris’s pillow to her face and inhaled. She couldn’t give the scent a label—it wasn’t soap or deodorant; it was just Chris. It was comfort and love and happiness. She didn’t want to live her life without smelling him again.

  Barbara would know what to do. She curled onto her side and held the phone to her ear with her top hand. She didn’t know how she was going to explain what happened, how she screwed up her marriage, and then her mom answered.

  “Hi, honey,” Barbara said, her voice bordering on giddy. “I’m so glad you called. I have official information.”

  “Ma,” MJ whispered. “It’s over.”

  Without giving her a moment to respond, MJ told her about kissing Doyle, Chris giving her divorce papers, and the horrible argument.

  “MJ, you and I are such different people. I never had the option of a real partner. Your father was all problem, no perk. I had to do everything myself, and I shored myself up by teaching you to do the same.”

  “I make my own choices, Ma. You didn’t make me ignore Chris or kiss Doyle.”

  “You’re right there, but I’ve watched a lot of marriages over the years from behind the bar, and if you’re going to save this one, you need to show him you’ve changed. You need to put your heart completely in his hands. I’m not sure how you’re going to do that, but no simple apology will do. Get vulnerable, open yourself completely—no holding back.”

  MJ chewed her lip, absorbing her mom’s words. How could she show Chris she was a different person? She used her sleeve to dry her face, leaving smudges of makeup.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Some of the anxiety had left her body already. Time to do as her mom said. “How’s Dr. VanderHouse?”

  The contentment rushed back into Barbara’s voice.

  “He’s exactly what I need him to be. I know the timing is awful, but Gordo and I are eloping to Vegas. Elvis will be marrying us!”

  “Wow, congratulations.” MJ tried to muster the requisite excitement, but her emotions couldn’t switch gears that quickly. She wrapped up the phone call and hugged Chris’s pillow to her, taking deep breaths. As she processed what a Vegas wedding meant, an idea formed. She had said she was done with Vegas, but perhaps just one more trip, one more huge gamble.

  She texted her mother.

  Would you mind if the kids and I tagged along?

  MJ zipped up her suitcase and pulled papers out of her back jeans pocket. She laid them on the bed, then set her gum-ball machine engagement ring on top of them. She’d deal with those later.

  Tommy came out of his room carrying his overstuffed duffel bag.

  “Ready to go, Mom,” he said. “Dad’s coming with us, right?”

  MJ opened her arms to her son, and he flew into them just like he used to when he only came up to her waist. A few weeks ago, she would have distracted herself from her uncertainty and heartache with a game of poker and let the pain trickle to the floor ignored, but no more. It was time to clean up this mess. “Let’s stick with that optimism, but prepare yourself for the worst.”

  “Mom?” Kate walked into the hallway, and MJ folded her into a group hug.

  “What if he doesn’t. What if—”

  MJ put a finger to Kate’s lips.

  “No what-ifs. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t. Then we’ll work it out. But dwelling on the what-ifs will blind you to the wonderfulness of what is. We’ve gotta live life with our eyes open.”

  MJ kissed her daughter’s cheek.

  She pulled her kids close, savoring the feel and smell of them in her own home, storing it up. Chris would forgive her. He had to. These people were her life.

  She gave one last squeeze.

  “Now get your things in the car. I’ve got a few things left to do. Wheels up in five.”

  Kate and Tommy thundered down the stairs, shoving each other to get down first. Some things never changed.

  MJ turned back to the items on her bed, unfolding the documents. How could a few pieces of paper end years of commitment and family? Ariana had explained all the legal terms, but reading each word in the agreement was another paper cut to her heart. They had both held back in their marriage, but if this was going to work, they both needed to be one hundred percent committed, no partial credit. Seeing Chris’s controlled signature on the last page was a huge lemon squeezed into
all the bleeding nooks, stinging like hell.

  How did they get here? They’d fallen in love so long ago—an actual millennium had passed. MJ remembered the days of catching fireflies with Kate and Tommy and spooning mashed sweet potatoes into their squirming-baby mouths. Amid that chaos, everything had made sense.

  She thought back on all the mistakes she had made in the last few months, starting with their anniversary. She’d known something wasn’t right in their marriage, but she was a fool to think a game based on bluffing could help. Poker had given her a false sense of relief, but it wasn’t an escape. It merely multiplied their problems. Marriage didn’t work that way. It was all in or folding. She had tried to slow-play it.

  MJ picked up the ring. Some dust still clung to the edges of the plastic gem, but she’d gotten most of it off. On the papers she traced Chris’s signature with her forefinger. What did he feel when he signed this? Relief? Terror? Sadness? Self-righteousness?

  No, Chris hadn’t been perfect either. He had shut her out when she needed him most. He’d been perfectly content to allow the distance to grow between them. And he should have known that rekindling any type of relationship with Tammie, even a very platonic friendship, would hurt her. No, there was enough blame for both of them.

  She slid the old ring onto her finger, all in. She laid the papers out on her dresser and pulled a pen from her back pocket. As she put the pen to paper, all the what-ifs she told Kate to ignore charged through her head, nearly trampling any hope she had that the gamble would work. Tears fell as she signed, smearing the ink.

  She was blowing on it, hoping to dry it quickly, when her phone buzzed.

  Lisa: He’s here.

  She had texted earlier, asking Ariana and Lisa to help her find Chris. She needed to see him one more time before leaving for Vegas. As usual, her friends didn’t let her down. She gave the ink one more puff of air and slid the papers into an envelope before rushing to the car.