Page 33 of Six Month Wife
I almost let it go to voicemail, but then I realize talking to her might be better than sitting here wallowing in my despair.
“Jenna! Hey, girl?—”
She laughs. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me. My ankle’s fine, by the way, thanks for checking on me."
"I did call the other day, Missy!"
"Oh, I missed that. Sorry. I’m off the roller-scooter.”
“That was fast.”
“So? Did you talk to the hot ER doc again?”
I smirk. Classic Jenna. "Define talk to..."
She gasps. “No. Shut up. Are you serious? You’ve talked to him!”
“I didn’t say anything,” I counter, all faux innocence. “You said ‘talk to,’ and I’m saying some communication may have occurred.”
“Oh my God,” she squeals. “Wait, is he the real deal? Are we talking first date or first name basis with his abs?”
I laugh and shake my head, deflecting with enough truth to keep her off the scent. “We’re getting to know each other. It’s still early."
"How did this happen?! Did you go back to the ER and stalk him out? I knew you guys had a thing. I could so tell."
"He came to Citrine the next day. We got properly acquainted."
"Have you slept with him? You slept with him!"
"It's complicated. How about we leave it there?”
“Complicated?” she repeats, suddenly suspicious. “Adair, are you seeing a married man? Is this some hot hospital soap opera?”
“No! Ew. Not even close.” I pause. “It’s unconventional. But I like him. More than I planned to.”
She sighs like she’s already writing the wedding vows. “Okay, fine. I won’t pry. Yet. But if this turns into something, you better not leave me out of the loop. Maid of honor rights. Dibs.”
Crap. I should tell her I've already married him, but I don’t have it in me to explain all of that.
In truth, I don’t even know what to say. It's not a real marriage, anyway. Well, technically it is, not the kind that involves love and bridesmaids and all that.
So I leave that alone for now.
“Noted,” I say, smiling despite the knot twisting in my stomach.
She doesn’t know the half of it. Of course, to Jenna and everyone else in my life, it has to look like Parker and I are the real thing.
She lets out a dreamy sigh. “Well, I’m so happy for you. Here I am, spending my days reading scripts and praying to land even the smallest role in a Liberty Insurance commercial, and you’re out there living the fairytale with a hot doctor you met because of me.”
Well, not entirely because of you. But she doesn't need to know about Miami, either.
“Jenna, your life is fabulous. Give me a break.”
“Please,” she scoffs, but I can hear the grin in her voice. “I’d trade you places in a heartbeat. You’re a business owner, a total boss. Sometimes I’m like, I don’t know, I'm such a cliché here, living off Dad’s money, running around in casting calls in Hollywood. You’re out there making things happen.”
“Hey, don’t talk down about yourself like that,” I say, forcing the energy back into my voice. “You’re following your dreams. That’s not something everyone has the guts to do.”
“Oh, stop it, you’re gonna make me tear up,” she says. “It’s hard sometimes, you know? But I’m doing it for me. Maybe one day I’ll land a role that doesn’t involve playing the sidewalk extra in Law & Order.”
