I arrive at work, numb, but thankful to have something to do. When I get to my desk, Scarlett is waiting for me with two coffees. Wordlessly, she hands me one.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I start to sit as she adds, “We need to hustle. Your photo shoot for the six-month follow-up two-page spread is in an hour.”
“Oh, crap. I completely forgot.”
She smiles. “At least we get to work together today.”
That is something. I take my laptop with me and check my email while I’m in hair and makeup. The article I wrote for today’s photoshoot is in final edits and I look over the proofreading copy I was cc’d on last night.
My stomach dips at the sight of the new headline: My Life Married to a Wildcat.
Work used to be the place that I felt like my most true self. Even when I was engaged to Sam, for the purpose of writing the articles, it was me. My life, things that interested me. It was honest, if not completely truthful. But with Declan, we’re trapped in this lie that has become so massive I can’t see around it. I know that everything he’s done has been to help me, but I’m just really tired of being the girl that needs saving.
I can’t help but wonder if the reality show would give me a chance to show people who I am. Yes, the show is centered around the life of a hockey wife or girlfriend, but the guys aren’t the stars and hopefully it would funnel people to my writing. And I guess I want to be the star of my career again. Maybe this gives me that first step. Plus, I’d have the signing bonus to fall back on if I needed it.
We start the shoot with a series of shots of me sitting in a big emerald chair with my laptop resting on my crossed legs.
Scarlett comes over to me when Janet, the head staff photographer, calls, “Let’s take five.”
I stand with my computer.
“Those looked great,” she says.
“Not like I wanted to go back to bed and forget this day happened?”
She leans into me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “You had a fight. You’ll work through it.”
“I don’t know.” She didn’t see his face when he yelled that he loved me. It was almost like he was mad that he’d fallen for me. I don’t believe love is enough. I’ve seen too many people walk out on my mom after claiming to love her. Either that or people use the word far too generously.
And the truth is, when I look at the future, of course I want to be with him. So much that it scares the crap out of me.
We do two more wardrobe changes and more photos in a variety of poses before Janet calls a wrap. My cheeks hurt from smiling and I’m bone tired from acting so opposite of how I’ve felt all day.
I’m far too exhausted to even think about going anywhere but home after work. The front door is unlocked, and Declan is sitting in the living room staring at a TV that isn’t on.
“Hey.” He stands when I linger in the entryway.
“Hi,” I reply tentatively. Even though I’m tired of being the person needing a rescue, there’s still a part of me that wants nothing more than to go to him, to have him wrap his big arms around me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.
Declan stays rooted in his spot six feet away. He glances at his feet and then slowly lifts his face to look at me. “I’m sorry I was an asshole this morning.”
I’m moving to him before I realize it. I hug him around the middle. “Me too.”
His arms circle my waist and the knot in my stomach loosens for the first time since this morning.
“I was going to talk to you about the show. I knew you wouldn’t like it, but I wasn’t trying to hide it.”
“I know,” he says quietly, then repeats it a little louder, “I know.”
“This situation is tricky and I’m trying to navigate it the best way I know how. I have to be smart. When this is over…”
He pulls back and stares down at me in confusion. He takes a seat back in the same spot he’d been sitting when I walked in, and I move into the living room and sit on the vintage chair I bought. He had it cleaned at some point and it no longer smells like cigarettes and dust.
“I mean when our contract is up. I like you. I like you so much, but people break up. It’s just a fact. You can’t predict what might happen between us.”
“Then let’s renegotiate.”
“What?” I feel my brows pull together in the middle.
“You want assurances. I can’t give you that, so I had my lawyer draw up a contract.” He stands and moves toward the kitchen.
Confused, I go after him. He hands me an envelope and then gets a beer from the fridge.
My heart rate speeds up, and my stomach does about a million somersaults as I read it. It says I can do the show, but in exchange, he wants to dissolve the prenup and stay married.
Stay married??!!
“Declan—” I start, and my voice breaks.
“There’s one more thing.” He stares at the ground. “I want to have a kid with you.”
The world tilts.
“I love you. I’m sorry I yelled it at you earlier, but it’s true. I want you to be my wife for real and I want to have a baby with you. I want us to be a family.”
In a million years, I never saw this coming. My voice barely works as I say, “We’ve never even talked about kids.”
“We’re talking about it now.” He leans a hip against the counter. “Do you want kids?”
“Sure, but…” I trail off. Not like this. Not as part of some agreement like we’re bartering one kid in exchange for me doing the show.
“I can’t sign this.” I set the papers down and take a deep breath. “I won’t do the show. You have been great to me and I respect that you don’t want to be a part of it.”
He runs a hand through his thick hair. He looks more confused than before. “I can’t figure out what it is you want.”
I swallow. “I want to get divorced.”
So much hurt crosses his face that I can hardly take it. “As long as we’re married, things are complicated,” I explain.
“What about your job?”
“I will deal with Melody and the fallout.”
“What about us?”
“After the dust settles then maybe we can figure out where that leaves us.”
“So we’re breaking up? This is just over?”
“No, not over.”
He invades my space, and those brown eyes search my face. “Forget everything. The job, this marriage, everything I said tonight. Do you want to be with me?”
“Of course, I do.”
“But you want to get divorced?”
“I don’t want us to be together because we’re legally obligated.”
“Fuck, Jade, I didn’t think we were.”
“You’re misunderstanding me.”
“Maybe, but it still fucking hurts.” He starts walking. I’m not sure where he’s going, but I follow him to the front door. Panic washes over me. I have royally fucked this up.
Stopping, hand on the doorknob, he looks back at me. “I asked you to figure out what you want. You want to get divorced? That’s your answer.”
“Yes, but please don’t go. I’m doing this because I care about you. It’s the only way I can think to move forward without destroying both of us. It frees us to figure things out in our own time without all the pressure.”
He nods. “There’s another envelope on the counter for you. Sign the papers and I’ll take care of everything.”
With that, he turns and walks out the door.
