The Year We Turned Forty (23 page)

But after their recent talk, the world glowed in Technicolor once more. Grant's touches made a little shiver run up her back. The twins' high-pitched squeals telling her to “turn it up” when Jesse McCartney was on the radio made her nostalgic rather than annoyed, and she drank in each milestone Lucas achieved, knowing she'd long for his innocence later. When she spied a beautiful sunrise, she'd stop and say a silent prayer of thanks to the universe, often wondering if the powers that brought her back here were the same ones that painted the sky each morning.

But when Peter surprised her at the park two weeks ago, it had changed everything. Now she was once again easily distracted, but this time out of fear, not boredom. She'd left her
purse in the cart at Costco yesterday, not even realizing she was missing it until she ran through the Starbucks drive-thru. Her mind was cluttered with anxiety. Did she deny Lucas his real father, his bloodline, to save her marriage? Jessie was terrified that it might not be her choice to make anymore.

The yoga instructor, Solange, walked over and patted her shoulder as Jessie rolled up her mat. “Still struggling?” she asked, her gentle smile making her eyes twinkle.

“Yes,” Jessie lamented. “Every time I try to clear my mind, it just fills back up again, like a boat with a leak.”

“Interesting analogy,” Solange mused. “Maybe you need to figure out what caused it.”

“Caused what?” Jessie asked, digging in her purse for her keys, distracted again.

Solange reached into Jessie's bag and removed the key chain effortlessly, holding it just out of Jessie's reach until Jessie looked up and met her eyes. “The leak. If you want to find the inner peace you seem to be searching for, I'd start there.”

•  •  •

Several hours later, Jessie grabbed her three-inch heels, still getting used to the idea that her post-pregnancy feet fit into them effortlessly. She smoothed her dress in the mirror, soft black and heather gray with a cowl neck that made her eyes shimmer, or at least that's what Grant told her a few minutes ago when he'd sidled up beside her while she applied her mascara. “You're going to be the hottest woman there,” he'd added, referring to the school event they were attending that evening. Last time, Jessie had been there with Grant on her arm, just days before she'd confessed the truth and watched their marriage unwind like a spool of thread.

Jessie shook off the memory and smiled as she thought of Lucas now, almost seven months old. He'd just pulled himself up for the first time that morning, flashing a drooling grin at his accomplishment as Jessie and the twins applauded. And Madison and Morgan were thriving, bonding over their shared older sister status, playfully fighting over who could help give their little brother a bath. Just last night as the girls did their homework and Jessie and Grant were curled up together on the couch, Lucas made a noise that sounded like hi. Grant and Jessie exchanged a look—had that been his first word? They'd never shared moments like these after Lucas was born last time, not even a family dinner, Grant long gone before Lucas was old enough to sit in a high chair.

Jessie inspected herself in the mirror and thought back to how she'd felt seven months after giving birth to Lucas the first time, still struggling to fit back into her jeans, most days wearing her Lycra workout pants, but never making it to the actual gym, her depression over Grant leaving overpowering everything. She had to admit, she felt physically healthy and strong this time from her power walks at the twins' volleyball practices, Jessie huffing around the track as the girls spiked the ball inside the gym. She did enjoy breaking a sweat, and she was proud that she'd reclaimed her body. Now she just needed to reclaim her confidence.

Jessie felt her heart lurch as she thought of running into Peter tonight at the event, having seen his and Cathy's names on the list of attendees. She'd considered feigning illness, but she couldn't take the risk Grant would still go without her, leaving him a sitting duck for Peter to possibly target. Plus, the annual auction had always been one of Jessie's favorite nights each year. She'd drink too much wine and bid carelessly in the silent
auction on baskets full of fancy skin creams and anti-aging serums, signed sports memorabilia, or a coveted spot for her minivan in the school's tiny parking lot.

Jessie suddenly flashed back to the bid she knew Grant had wanted to make at the live auction, the last one they'd attended as a married couple. There had been a six-week-old soft blond Goldendoodle puppy with big brown eyes and a playful kiss. Jessie had grabbed Grant's paddle before he could hold it up to make a bid. “Don't even think about it!” Jessie had cried out. “Do you think the puppy will even know who you are? You're never home!” The other couples at the table had laughed, but both Jessie and Grant had felt the underlying tension in her comment.

Tonight, Jessie waved to a few moms as she and Grant walked into the country club—Grant leafing through the book that listed the items for auction. “Uh-oh, there's a Goldendoodle on the list. Look at her,” he said, showing her a picture of the dog with a bright pink collar. “I'm sure she'll be pretty popular!” He laughed. “I know that's the last thing we need right now. But how can you resist that face?” He gave Jessie a pointed look.

Jessie thought quickly. Maybe tonight was her chance to show Grant that she was listening. That what he wanted mattered to her. “I can't.”

“I know,” he said. “We can't get a dog.”

“No,” Jessie corrected. “I mean, I can't resist her face.”

“What? Are you being serious? You've never wanted a dog,” Grant said, and paused to write a silent bid on a football signed by Drew Brees.

“People change. You should bid.” Jessie nodded her head across the grass, where the pup was chewing violently on a rawhide bone. “Just imagine the girls' reactions if we walked in the door with her later tonight. They would go crazy!” Jessie smiled
and thought about how their faces would register shock, then joy when they realized Jessie had finally given in to their constant request for a puppy.

“But you'll be the one taking care of him most of the time. Are you sure?”

“We could use a little fluffiness in our lives. And a little more poop isn't going to kill me. Get the dog.”

“What is this about? Because I know the girls will be excited, but they don't need a pet.”

“I know. But this is about
you
. About what makes
you
happy.”

“What makes me happy is our family,” he replied simply.

“I know that, babe. But I can tell how much you want this. And I want to give you what
you
want,” she finished, her throat constricting as she realized she'd never uttered truer words. She'd start with the puppy and figure the rest out as she went.

“Hey,” Grant said as a tear slipped out of the corner of Jessie's eye. “Where is this coming from? I like dogs, but owning one isn't going to be like fulfilling some childhood dream.”

Jessie shrugged, brushing the tear away with the back of her hand and turning to face the golf course as she saw Peter and Cathy arrive. “Please. Just bid on our furry friend.” She realized the puppy was just a symbol of a life she didn't want to relive, but giving him this would make her feel like she was righting a wrong she'd made in her other life.

Grant stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her chest. “If you insist,” he whispered into her ear. “But don't get too attached—she's going to be
my
dog! Even if you're the one that cleans up most of her poop. And feeds her. And does basically everything,” he added, and Jessie could hear his sarcastic smile, the one where the right side of his mouth lingered upward a little longer than the left.

Jessie stared at the skyline, breathed deeply before silently asking for the answers she was searching for. Her eyes grew wide as a blaze of light lit up the sky. “Did you see that?” she craned her neck around to Grant. “The flash?”

He nodded his head. “I did. Do you think it's a sign we should get the dog?” he teased.

“I think that's exactly what it is.” Jessie smiled, hoping that all of the magic in the world was somehow connected.

“I don't know what's gotten into you tonight, but I'm not complaining,” he said as he pulled her in for a quick kiss. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“You're welcome.” Jessie closed her eyes, trying not to think of Peter, who she instinctively knew was watching them from somewhere at this event. She needed to savor this moment with Grant.

“Come on,” Grant said, interrupting her thoughts. “Let's head over and finalize our silent bids. Then I'm going to check on Goldie. That's what I want to call her, by the way,” he said, leading Jessie to the tent where the silent auction was taking place and also where Peter and Cathy were standing.

Peter straightened his wide plaid tie as they approached, his facial expression giving nothing away. Jessie held her breath as she met Peter's eyes, her heart pounding, waiting for his next move. But he simply smiled and extended his hand to Grant and shook it briskly. Cathy threw her arms around Jessie's neck, causing Jessie to flinch involuntarily, quickly covering it with a lie about being cold and wanting to find a heat lamp after seeing Cathy's startled expression. As Cathy began inquiring about who was watching Lucas that night, Jessie felt as if the walls of the tent were closing in around her. She couldn't do this. Stand here and talk about her baby with the wife of the man who had fathered him. It was wrong.

Jessie looked at her watch. “Oh wow, the silent auction is closing in five minutes. I'm dying to get the parking space this year!” Jessie said, grabbing a Sharpie off the table and hoping her plastered smile didn't look as fake as it felt as she tugged Grant's arm. “And Grant needs to warm up his paddle—he's bidding on the dog!” she said, and hoped Peter noticed that she and Grant were a united front. She felt herself breathe for the first time in minutes as she watched Cathy guide Peter toward the buffet.

“I'm going to pay Goldie a visit,” Grant said.

“Go. You've got thirty minutes until the live auction begins. Plenty of time to get to know each other.” Jessie smiled and pushed him toward where the dog was sitting in her crate, her tail wagging fiercely as he approached.

“We need to talk,” she heard a voice murmur beside her, and she jumped slightly.

“I thought you were off getting a plate of chicken wings,” Jessie said to Peter through gritted teeth without taking her eyes off Grant. “What are you thinking trying to talk to me
here
?”

“You won't answer my calls. What do you want me to do?”

Jessie forced herself to look at him and sighed loudly. “Fine. What do you want from me?”

“You know what I want. To see my son.”

“Shhh,” Jessie said, pretending to read a description card attached to a basketful of sweets. “And is that all? Just to see him?”

“For now.”

“And if I don't allow it?”

“Then I'm not sure this is a secret I can keep.”

Jessie shuddered. “You'd be willing to destroy your own life too? Because I'm not the only one with something to lose,” she reasoned.

“Cathy and I haven't been happy in years.” Peter let his eyes
fall across Jessie's body. “Obviously,” Peter said in a hushed tone, shaking his empty drink glass, the sound of the ice echoing in Jessie's ears as she wondered what happened to the guy who had charmed her so thoroughly.

“Well, we're working hard to be happy,” Jessie said, seething. “I'm not ready to give up on my marriage. Even though you might be. So don't take me down with you.”

Peter smiled like he thought she was bluffing. “Then give me what I want. And maybe I won't have to.”

Jessie felt nauseous. “Fine. Thursday at two.”

“That's a much better answer.” Peter's voice grated on Jessie like the high squeal from a microphone when someone gets too close to it. “And by the way,” he said, gesturing his empty glass toward Grant, who was letting Goldie lick his face. “Letting him get a damn dog isn't going to help him forgive you
if
he finds out.”

•  •  •

Grant glanced over at Jessie, and she was scowling. And Jessie wasn't a scowler. She smiled even when she was sad, that reflex like a button that couldn't be switched off. Her lips curved upward into a grin when she was nervous too. In fact, she smiled so hard when he'd asked her to marry him that they'd joked he'd almost broken her face by asking. But she was frowning now. And as Grant watched her, he realized she seemed to be frowning at Peter, a man they barely knew. He was a stay-at-home dad from Madison and Morgan's class he'd remembered meeting at back-to-school nights and seeing at the soccer fields from time to time. He'd seemed like a nice enough guy. Maybe he was filling Jessie in on the latest drama with the class mom—Jessie had just been telling him on the way over here that this woman had been terrorizing all the parents who hadn't volunteered at the auction.
Just then, the puppy let out a sharp bark, demanding Grant's attention once more. “Sorry, girl,” he said quietly, and gently stroked her fur. “I didn't mean to ignore you.”

Jessie used to accuse Grant of ignoring her often. When they didn't fight about it, he could still feel it, could see it in the way her body stiffened when he entered the room. Like she was waiting to see what he'd do. Would he sweep her off her feet? Or would he prop his feet up on the couch? He hated to admit it, but he usually chose the latter. Not because he didn't love Jessie. Of course he did. But he felt so much pressure. Like if he did scoop her up in his arms, she'd think it was only because they'd argued about it for an hour the night before. If he pulled her in for a kiss and asked her about her day, he would feel like an actor performing the lines from a script she'd written. He wanted it to be organic, the way it used to be. And he'd been so tired. Not just physically tired. But tired of the guilt she threw at him like daggers each night. It weighed on him like a dumbbell he couldn't lift, no matter how hard he tried.