She doesn’t try to pull away, but she doesn’t say anything either. Just gazes up at me with mistrust and confusion.
“I want for us to be able to talk again,” I suggest. “Maybe you’ll even let me explain a bit more about why I did what I did.”
Her eyes dart left, and she stares at the church again. I reach into my coat pocket, then pull out the small gift I’ve been carrying. It’s wrapped in red foil paper with a tiny silver bow. It’s small, square, and clearly a ring box. It had not failed my notice that she was not wearing her wedding band Sunday night at dinner, although I have not taken mine off.
“I got you a Christmas present,” I say, and she turns back to look at the gift in my hand.
She warily stares at it before lifting her gaze to mine before returning it to the box. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s not what you think it is,” I assure her, because I know exactly why she’s reticent. I bet she thinks it’s a new wedding band or perhaps a large diamond I hadn’t had the chance to get her but had fully intended to, even though we did everything ass-backward.
I extend my arm enough that I push the gift right into her hands, and she has no choice but to accept it.
She holds the box carefully, almost as if she’s afraid it’s a bomb that might explode. When she lifts her face back up, she says, “I didn’t get you anything.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I assure her. “I’m not sure I deserve anything anyway.”
A flash of empathy fills her eyes before she quickly extinguishes it.
I nod down at the box. “Open it or don’t. It’s yours to do with as you wish. Just promise me you’ll keep it if you can’t look at it now because maybe one day you’ll be in a different place. At least I hope to God that’s what’s going to happen.”
Jaime’s gaze goes down to the box, then once again comes up to meet mine. She merely nods her agreement that she’ll keep it.
Pointing with her thumb over her shoulder, she says, “I need to get going.”
“Of course,” I reply. Before she can think to step away or stop me, I lean down and brush my lips across her cheek. “I love you, Jaime. Merry Christmas.”
I don’t expect her to say anything back, so I immediately turn on my heel and start walking across the grounds to the road where I’d parallel parked my car. All I can hope for tonight is that I’ve given her a bit of pause, and she’ll think about giving me another shot.CHAPTER 27JaimeGently, I use my feather duster to swipe all the decorations and books on my living room shelves. I run it over the corner lamp, the end tables, and the coffee table. I start to move toward the TV stand, but the red foil-wrapped gift catches my eye. I’d set it there when I came home on Christmas day, having chosen to sleep at my parents’ house on Christmas Eve after Mass.
I didn’t put it under my small Christmas tree I set up on the sideboard that takes up one wall of my tiny apartment. One day, I’d love to have a place big enough for a full-sized tree, but, for now, my little two-foot one brings me just as much Christmas cheer.
And yet, I didn’t put Cage’s gift there. I mean, there’s plenty of room as all the other presents I had stacked there were for my family, and we opened those Christmas day.
Maybe it’s because I feel slightly guilty I didn’t get him anything. It never crossed my mind.
Most likely, I didn’t put it under the tree because the shape and size of that box—regardless of the red foil—say it isn’t exactly a Christmas present.
It’s a ring, right?
A real wedding band, not like the cheap silver ones we bought in the twenty-four-hour wedding chapel where we got married.
A twinge of pain hits me dead center, something that happens every time I remember I’m married to a man I’m not sure I can stay married to. I’m smart enough to realize that twinge is the potential pain of loss, meaning if I ultimately decide I just can’t move forward with him, I’m going to suffer. Because even though I’m angry, hurt, disappointed, and mistrustful of him now, I also still very much love him.
It’s an awful situation to be in.
Bypassing the sideboard and ignoring the gift, I move into the kitchen, putting my small feather duster in the tiny supply closet/pantry. Eyeballing the kitchen, I look for something else to do to keep busy. I have the rest of this week off for Christmas break, and I’m in strict avoidance mode. I’ve cleaned the apartment top to bottom—twice now in the last two days—and I’ve been putting Cage off again.