Page 3 of Breathing Wisteria
“Oh my God, I love this song! Can you watch the girls for a minute?” She gives me her best puppy dog eyes. “I want to dance with Ben.”
Slipping on my best neutral mask, I agree and follow her back to our table.
“C’mon, babycakes, hand the mac and cheese to Wyatt and come and dance with me.”
Ben grins beautifully at his wife, his eyes crinkling up in amusement, and my mask slips briefly as I let a moment of wistfulness overwhelm me.
Remembering, just for a brief moment, the way guarded brown eyes used to look at me as though I was perfection personified.
Until they didn’t.
Shaking my head slightly, I reach over and take the small bowl from his hands and gesture for Ben to go. He leans over and places a swift kiss on my cheek, along with a whispered thank-you.
I can’t stop my eyes from following them across the dance floor and just when I start to feel those old papered-over cracks in my heart start to split again, Cassidy’s voice snaps me out of my reverie.
“Ugh, those two make me want to puke. No one should still be that lovey-dovey after all this time. That is not what marriage is.”
Mason smirks across at her, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. “I don’t know, we were pretty lovey-dovey this morning, if you recall.”
She narrows her eyes at him, and I prepare myself for whatever scathing comment is to come. Looking at Mason, his grin has widened and he’s practically vibrating with anticipation. I suppress an eye roll. I’ve never met a man who enjoys getting his balls busted so much by his wife.
But before she can say anything, a loud cry sounds when Mackenzie falls off her chair, crashing to the ground. Cassidy rushes to pick her up and is soothing her when Seb abruptly stands up on his chair, looking anxiously around the room. Mason tells him to sit down in a commanding voice that almost has my ass finding a seat, but Seb just looks at him, his eyes wide.
“I need to go to the potty, Daddy.”
Mason moves quickly, reaching over to pick him up, but when his hand lands on Seb’s butt a loud groan escapes.
“You didn’t make it, huh, bud?”
Cassidy continues soothing Mackenzie, who is still loudly screaming and looks at her husband and son, both of whom are now covered in pee.
She turns to me slowly, a sardonic look on her face.
“This,” she says calmly. “This is marriage.”
The bed dips beneath me and I flop back onto the mattress, arms spread, eyes closed.
Tonight was… I’m not even sure what it was.
Seeing my friends all together in one place, so happy with their partners and children, it created a huge mess of conflicting emotions.
And memories. So many painful memories.
Sheets rustle under me when I turn to my side and reach under the bed for the box. The box.
Where said memories are supposed to go and die a swift death.
But they don’t. They merely hibernate in there until the next time my defenses are down, and I can’t stop from torturing myself.
Sitting back up, I cross my legs and place the large box over my legs.
Five years. Inside this ridiculous-looking box covered in garish pink flamingos is five years of my life.
Four years of immeasurable joy. One year of immeasurable pain.
My throat tightens while my fingertips move, almost involuntarily, ghosting across the top and my heart thunders as I try to compose myself before facing my nightmare.
So, essentially, my usual reaction.
