Page 9 of Don't Regret Me
5
NICK
Nick closed his eyes, trying to get the image of his wife standing in the home of the young assistant out of his mind. He knew he should feel some sort of betrayal at having been lied to for so long, but all he had for the situation was an immense sense of relief. And then, the guilt that came with that relief.
“This isn’t what it looks like, Nick.” Sherrie’s voice held a kind of fear he’d never heard from her.
Nick stood frozen in the doorway, unable to walk in and yet unable to leave. Memories tugged at him, things he wanted to remember from the time before the accident, but he couldn’t make them out. “Tell me, then.” His voice was so low it was almost a growl. “What is it?”
A tear dropped down Sherrie’s cheek, but Nick had no sympathy for her, no desire to dry her eyes and tell her he understood.
“It’s… it’s…” Her voice stuttered, and she didn’t get another word out.
Franklin, who’d been silent until now, stood taller, as if preparing himself for a fight. “I’m in love with her.”
A surprised laugh escaped Nick.
Sherrie scowled. “No, he’s not.” She turned to Franklin. “You can’t be. You’re a child.”
“A child?” Franklin started to step toward her but then thought better of it. “After everything I’ve done for you. Risking?—”
“Shut up, Franklin.” Sherrie’s gaze cut into him, but the young man had only just gotten started.
Nick had a sudden bout of respect for Franklin’s refusal to back down. It would pass.
“Shut up, she says.” His jaw tightened. “I’ve stood aside long enough while you’ve paraded yourself around as the wife of a man you hate.”
That wasn’t news to Nick. He’d always suspected how she truly felt about him.
Franklin’s eyes met Nick’s. “I’ve stood aside while another man has claimed what is mine.”
Sherrie gasped.
Nick looked from Franklin to Sherrie, trying to put the pieces together. He noticed the slight movement of Sherrie’s hand as she held it in front of her stomach, protecting what she carried.
“What’s yours?” The words were a whisper on Nick’s lips as the fog cleared. He didn’t know Franklin, had no memories of their time working together, but suddenly it made sense. “The baby isn’t mine.”
“Mr. Jacobs?” The therapist leading this group session said his name for the third time. “Do you care to tell us what’s on your mind?”
No, he didn’t. He hadn’t spoken to Sherrie since starting his court-ordered rehab in Los Angeles. He’d left her in Gulf City and had no news since. She’d probably had the baby. The world probably hated him for not being there. But in the facility he’d chosen, there was to be no news from the outside world except for letters from loved ones.
Not that Nick got any of those.
“No.” He grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. These sessions weren’t for him. He wasn’t the sharing type.
The woman moved on to another unlucky soul, and before long, she dismissed them. Nick wandered out into the extensive gardens, where he spent most of his free time. Rows and rows of color stretched out before him. Yellows, blues, pinks. It was like a rainbow, meant to represent hope.
But he was all out of that.
He found the bench he gravitated toward every afternoon, letting the blazing sun burn away the memories he wished he could forget. It was ironic that he’d tried for so long to remember his lost year and now he wanted to wash away what came after.
Something about being here hadn’t felt right since the day he arrived last week. It was a great facility, and he was thankful for the peace it gave him, the separation from the real world. But he couldn’t help thinking over the months since he’d woken from the coma. There wasn’t a single time he’d wanted to take any kind of pills.
Addiction was a disease, one people struggled for a long time to overcome. It shouldn’t be this easy for him.
Footsteps on the cobblestone path snapped him out of his confounding thoughts, and he lifted his gaze to find Harriet, one of the on-site therapists, hurrying toward him. “Mr. Jacobs, you need to come with me.”
He stood. “Is everything okay?”
