Luke is staring out the windshield when I turn my head toward him. He doesn’t say anything and appears to be deep in thought.
I lean my head against the headrest. “We’ll be working together, and I want to figure out a way to be around each other without it being so awkward.”
“I’m not trying to make this uncomfortable for you.” Luke’s voice is softer than normal. He opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and closes his mouth. He brushes my hair behind my ear. “Listen, it’s late. What I want to say can wait.”
I open the door, but he starts speaking again.
“Jessica…”
“Yeah, Luke?”
“I’m sorry he hurt you.”
His words cause physical pain in my chest. I get out, but turn back to say one last thing to him before I walk away. “That’s ironic coming from you.”
His eyes widen and then drop. He allows me the dignity of walking to my doorstep alone, fresh tears rolling down my cheeks.
Chapter 7
My alarm goes off early, too early for a Saturday. The fog takes a minute to lift, but then memories of the previous evening flood in. The text from Grant, the night out with the girls, Luke. As much as I would love to sit in bed and relive every excruciating detail, I don’t have time. I need to make myself presentable before I pick up Amelia from Sam’s house and get her to the soccer game. My head is pounding, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to look awful today. My usual Saturday attire consists of shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. I decide today is the day to wear my new pink floral sundress. Amelia was helping me shop one day and brought it to me. When I saw it on the hanger, I didn’t think it was my style, but I felt pretty when I put it on. I could really use some of that confidence today.
I pick up Amelia a few minutes early so we have time to hit our favorite coffee shop. I’m not going to survive today without a major caffeine injection. I order a large coffee instead of my usual chai tea. Amelia wants a drink made primarily of sugar and whipped cream. I usually say no and talk her into something less sugary, but not today.
It dawns on me, as we drive to the sports park, what a breathtakingly beautiful morning it is. The sun is out, and there are a few white puffy clouds in the sky. Skies like this always remind me of preschool. We would lay on the playground, staring up at the clouds and giggling about the shapes we would see. Eventually someone would blurt out something inappropriate, and the activity would be over as our teacher redirected our attention to something else. I was a serious little girl and was always upset when someone else had to ruin a good thing with their foolishness. Adult life isn’t that much different than preschool.
My daydream is interrupted by Amelia raising her voice to sing the chorus of Adele’s “Someone Like You.” She is a car singer, like her mommy, but definitely more talented. I join in with her, focusing on the lyrics. Even though I was happily married when this song first came out, something about it always made me think of Luke. Now it makes me think of Luke and Grant.
The song is over, and the radio station cuts to commercial. I think about Grant’s message from last night. The pain has dulled after a good cry and some sleep, but it still hurts. Today is Amelia’s first soccer game of the season, and I will not let us ruin it. I’m determined to show up at that game, looking amazing, with a fake smile plastered on my face to prove to everyone how great I’m doing.
I don’t see Grant’s car in the parking lot when we arrive. Maybe God has heard my prayers. I don’t wish anyone harm, but a minor accident or case of food poisoning preventing their arrival would be welcome.
As soon as we’re parked, Amelia takes off, dribbling toward where her team has assembled to run warm-up drills. I’m grabbing my bag and chair from the back of my SUV when I’m startled by a familiar voice.
“Good morning, Jessica.”
“Good morning, Grant.” I muster as much cheerfulness as I can. He seems well, so apparently vomiting was not part of his morning.
“This is Stephanie, my…” Grant stumbles over his words as the woman next to him steps forward to shake my hand. At least Grant has the decency to appear uncomfortable.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, so I don’t have to hear him say the actual word. Stephanie is not the name on the texts I found on his phone. She must be new. She is pretty, almost too pretty. She obviously spends a lot of time and money to look the way she does. Highlighted hair, manicured nails, perfectly coordinated outfit. It’s not fair how women judge each other. If someone shows up in sweats and no makeup, we assume she has let herself go or there must be something wrong with her. If she shows up well put-together, then she must be vain. Men aren’t as hard on each other. You would never hear a man belittle another man because of his decision to not shave that day. “The game is about to start. We better get down there.”
We walk to the field in silence, but I make sure to have a smile on my face. I don’t know exactly what I’m trying to accomplish or prove, but ever since I was a kid, I’ve had this desire to make everyone else comfortable. If I pretend I’m okay going to my daughter’s soccer game with my soon-to-be ex-husband and his new girlfriend, then the situation will be less uncomfortable for everyone. I don’t want others to know my heart is being juiced like an orange while it’s still inside me. If they knew, they would look at me with pity in their eyes.
I say good morning to the other parents as I set up my chair. I pretend I’m searching for something in my bag as Grant introduces Stephanie to everyone. I make sure to smile at everyone who makes eye contact with me. My coping strategy is making me feel like a complete fraud.
At halftime, Amelia comes over to get a snack and give hugs to everyone. I’m caught off guard when she hugs Stephanie too. I clench my jaw so tight, I worry about cracking my teeth. I calm myself down by rationalizing that Amelia has always been very friendly. I remember the time I had to stop her from hugging a stranger at the store after she complemented Amelia’s dress. I have nearly convinced myself that her affectionate gesture means next to nothing when I notice a man approaching our field. Even from a distance, I can tell he’s tall, with muscular arms. He has a baseball cap and sunglasses on and is carrying a beach chair over his shoulder. I don’t recognize him until he gets closer, then I let out a tiny gasp.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. Do you mind if I squeeze my chair in right here?” Luke addresses me and the mom sitting next to me. She silently nods and scoots over. By the way she’s staring at Luke, I don’t think she minds trading our opportunity to chat for a chance to sit next to him for the remainder of the game. Luke squeezes my forearm as he takes his seat and turns his attention to the field, where the game is about to resume.
“What are you doing here?” I smile as I whisper, trying to make this situation appear a lot more natural than it is. I also do not want to draw any more attention to us, though it doesn’t matter. People are already watching us.
“You’re welcome.” He keeps his eyes on the game.
“I don’t understand why you’re here. Did you follow me?” I ask, trying to remember if I did in fact invite him last night in my drunkenness.
“I thought you could use some help.” He shrugs off my question, like him being here makes complete sense.
“Help? With what?”
“I knew today was going to be hard for you, so I thought I could help. Is your daughter number ten? She’s pretty good.”
“I don’t need your help!” I blurt out like a five-year-old after being told she is too small to pour her own juice. I quickly replace the scowl on my face with a smile and lower my voice. “He’s my ex-husband. I can handle him on my own.”
“He’s not the one you need saving from.” Luke is still focused on the game.
“From her then?” My voice strains as I try to contain my outrage. “I’m not in competition with her.” As much as I want them to be true, my words don’t ring true
even to me.
“Not from her either.” Luke sighs. “From yourself. Sometimes you need to be saved from yourself. You need to let him go.”
I want to be anywhere but here. This day is turning out to be more than I can handle. It’s bad enough dealing with Grant and Stephanie, but I have to contend with Luke too. How dare he come here uninvited and try to give me relationship advice. But I won’t make a scene, so all I can do is stare at the soccer game and pray it doesn’t go into overtime.
This prayer is answered. The game is over, and I frantically gather my belongings. I audibly gasp when Grant walks over to introduce himself to Luke.
“Jessica, we wanted to say goodbye.” I hate that he’s already using “we” when talking about himself and this other woman. “It was nice to see you.” Grant addresses me more like an acquaintance than the woman he was married to for almost eight years. “Are you going to introduce us to your friend?”
“Luke Taylor.” Luke introduces himself, because I have lost the ability to form words. Grant pales, and I know it’s because he’s just remembered where he knows Luke from. Although Grant has never officially met Luke, he knows all about him and our past.
“Oh, well, nice to meet you. I’m Jessica’s husband, Grant.”
“Husband? I guess, technically, but not for long.” Luke focuses on Grant unapologetically.
“I mean, yes, we’re separated.” Grant is visibly shaken by Luke’s directness.
“Not only separated, getting divorced.” Luke is not going to let Grant off the hook.
“The process takes a long time.” Grant’s hesitation is because he doesn’t want to concede to Luke, but with Stephanie eagerly listening, he is forced to, at least partially.
Luke eyes Grant but decides his point has been made. He offers a hand to Stephanie and flashes her a smile. “Hi. I’m Luke.”
“Stephanie.” Even with Grant standing here, she is gawking at Luke.
Luke returns his attention to Grant and studies him a moment. “It’s great to finally meet you both. Being able to attend your daughter’s events together is important. I’m glad everyone is ready to move on.” Grant flinches, and Luke capitalizes on his upper hand. “You can imagine how difficult and awkward it would be if you were uncomfortable with how quickly Jessica has moved on.” Luke laughs lightly to break the tension he has created. “I’m glad we can all be mature about this.”
I’m about to pray for an earthquake when Amelia runs in to save the day.
“There’s my girl. Great game!” I exclaim a little too enthusiastically. “Oh wow, it’s already eleven o’clock. We really need to get going.”
Everyone congratulates Amelia on her game, politely shakes hands, and says their goodbyes. After we finish lying about how nice it was to meet each other, I hurry toward my car.
“Jessica, wait.” Luke is far enough off that I can get away with pretending not to hear him.
I’m already replaying the events of the morning in my head while trying to get to my car quickly and avoid twisting my ankle. Why did I wear this dress and wedge sandals? I remember telling myself while I was getting ready this morning that I am not in competition with Grant’s new girlfriend. A realization hits me like a truck. I’m not in competition with her because she’s already won. Everyone else can see my relationship with Grant is over. Even Luke sees it. I got dressed up to impress who today? A man who no longer looks at me? A woman I don’t even know? I even had another man show up to make him jealous. Even though I didn’t plan that, everyone will think it. How pathetic I must seem. This must be what Luke meant by saving me from myself.
I throw open the back of my SUV and toss our stuff in with shaky hands. Approaching footsteps alert me I wasn’t fast enough. Luke is going to catch up with me before I can complete my getaway.
I glance up at Luke and imagine I look like a bunny caught in a trap. He makes sure Amelia is inside before speaking. “Jessica, he doesn’t want you—”
“You think I don’t know that?” I yell without a shred of composure. “You think I don’t remember that every single day?” I close my eyes and clear my throat before continuing in a calmer manner. “I get it, okay? I’m the dull old wife, jealous of the shiny new girlfriend. Damn it, you’d think I’d be used to being replaced by now.” I’m referring to our past as much as I am my crumbled marriage, and he knows it. He flinches, and part of me likes that I’ve caused him discomfort. I’m careful not to think of it as pain, because I’m not sure Luke Taylor is capable of feeling that. He’s like Grant; they take what they want for as long as they can, and then they leave.
Luke looks like he’s going to say something else, but I’ve had enough.
“Stop. I’ve sufficiently embarrassed myself, it’s time to call it a day.” I don’t need to explain myself to him, but my overactive brain won’t let me walk away without finishing my thought. “I may have looked foolish today, but I was a good wife and a good mom, and I deserved better.” I turn on my heeled sandals and escape into the SUV.
Amelia is already engrossed in a game on her tablet. I quickly back out of the parking space and flee. I can’t help but take one last glimpse in my rearview mirror. Luke’s standing where I left him, shoulders slumped, head hanging.
Chapter 8
I spend the rest of the weekend trying to distract myself, with varying levels of success. The time I spend with Amelia baking cookies is a happy distraction. It’s slightly chaotic every time she helps me in the kitchen. The counters and floors wind up covered in a white dusting of flour and sugar. The messiness makes me cringe, but she is so full of joy while she is doing it that I work hard to let go. I remind myself to focus on the fun and not the disastrous condition of my kitchen.
When Monday morning arrives, I’m still angry about the soccer game on Saturday—angry at Grant for being insensitive and putting me in an uncomfortable situation, furious at Luke for his unsolicited help. Luke reminding me that Grant doesn’t want me anymore was particularly cruel.
I arrive at the winery and spend the first fifteen minutes chatting with Linda. I tell her about my night out with the girls and my run-in with Grant and his new girlfriend, although I omit the detail about Luke showing up at both places. Linda tells me she had dinner at the new restaurant downtown and wasn’t impressed. After our weekend recaps, I sit at my desk and start my week. My work phone is blinking, indicating I have a new message. I dial my voicemail and frown when a familiar voice greets me. It’s Luke. He asks why I didn’t return any of his calls on Saturday or Sunday. I delete the message and get started answering emails. I let all outside incoming calls go directly to voicemail. At the end of the day, I sort through them. Out of six, five are from Luke. His messages get increasingly shorter. In the final message of the day, he simply states that we need to talk. I don’t respond.
Tuesday morning begins with texts from Luke. I begin to read the first one but only get through “Please call me, we need to talk about…” before I delete it. I spend part of my day deleting all additional texts from him without opening them. If it’s something business related, Aaron will contact me.
The next morning starts with more promise. I receive no texts and am relieved to find no messages waiting for me when I arrive at work. The day is productive, and I’m getting a lot accomplished in a short amount of time. In between reviewing legal documents Mrs. Bianchi requested I look over, I overhear Linda thank our delivery woman, Maggie.
“They’re beautiful,” Maggie says before walking out and shutting the door.
My curiosity is piqued, so I leave my desk to see what’s going on. I assume Linda has received flowers again. Her husband sends them to her from time to time, sometimes for no particular reason. Every time she gets a new delivery, I experience a pinch of jealousy. I haven’t received flowers in years. Grant thought they were a waste of money. He didn’t want to spend money on something that was just going to
die.
Perched on Linda’s desk is a large fragrant vase of stargazer lilies.
“They’re for you.” Linda wears a wide grin.
I tentatively open the card, unable to help a laugh. As punishment for my envy, I discover the flowers are from Luke.
“So…who are they from?”
“They’re a thank-you from one of our investors.” I don’t like to lie to Linda, so I go with a half-truth.
“That was thoughtful. Quite a coincidence that they knew what your favorite type of flower is.” Linda gives me a knowing smile.
“Yes, well, I have to get back to work.” I hurry back to my office, cheeks flushed.
I remind myself who I’m dealing with. I refuse to be won over because Luke happens to remember what my favorite flower is.
An hour later, I hear Maggie talking to Linda again. Linda doesn’t say anything when she sets the bouquet of orange roses on my desk next to the stargazers. My lack of eye contact confirms her suspicions that these are not more thank-you flowers.
Three more arrangements arrive before lunch. Before leaving to get something to eat, I ask Linda to pass them along to other departments. By the time I return from picking up my smoothie, my desk is mostly clear. Linda has left the stargazers and a small stack of cards on my desk. I pick up the stack and put them in my purse.
Linda pokes her head in. “You received two more bouquets. I don’t know who they’re from, but I left the cards on your desk. I hope you don’t mind, but I left the stargazers too. Figured you’d want to keep such a beautiful thank-you gift.” Linda returns to her desk without waiting for a response.
Later, after Amelia is tucked into bed, my curiosity gets the better of me. I open all the cards and lay them across my kitchen island. Luke’s handwriting swirls across them.
Crushed Page 7