And, if we can ultimately get past this weird place in our relationship, I have a distinct feeling Anna and I could become very good friends.CHAPTER 28CageJaime invited me over, and I don’t know how to take it. I’ve been the one pursuing her this past week, and she’s been the one putting me off.
It’s Saturday evening, exactly one week since she was kidnapped. Three days since I saw her last on Christmas Eve.
Her invitation was on my phone—via text—when I woke up this morning, so I hadn’t even had time to do my usual outreach to her to ask if we could talk. Sometime during Friday night, she determined it was time without me prompting it.
I’m not sure if that bodes well.
If it’s bad, it’s most likely because she’s come to some sort of conclusion or decision on her own without giving me a chance to talk about it, which, in turn, will probably mean she wants to cut ties.
Best-case scenario—if it’s good—she’s decided to forgive me for my stupid decisions and wants to give us a shot.
I’d also accept just a willingness on her part to listen, so I arrive at her apartment at seven PM as requested, armed with several items to help sway her to my side. Even if her first words are, “It’s over,” I’m still going to insist she listen to what I have to say.
I knock on the door. When it opens, my breath catches. It’s usually what happens when I see her. Tonight her hair is in a braid that hangs over one shoulder, her face free of makeup. She has on a pair of leggings, a bulky sweater, and thick fuzzy socks. I want to snatch her up, cuddle with her on the couch, and watch a movie. That’s what she inspires at this moment.
A smile is there, slightly tentative, as she says, “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply.
“Come on in,” she says, sweeping her arm to indicate the way.
I enter, shrugging out of my coat. The Christmas snow is all slush now, but it looks like more is coming in tomorrow. Fuck if it wouldn’t be the perfect time for my wife and me to make up and spend the day in bed together.
Jaime snags my coat from me to hang up in the little closet by the door, and I hold tightly to the folder in my hand. She eyeballs it, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Want anything to drink?” she asks after hanging up my coat.
“I’m good,” I say, even though I’m struck with a sudden case of nerves and could probably stand a shot or two of whiskey.
“Want to sit down?”
“Yeah… sure,” I reply, turning to the kitchen as she starts toward the couch. I had thought the kitchen table would be more comfortable for her, putting a little barrier up during our discussion.
I’m not sure what it says she’s choosing the comfort of the couch, but I quickly pivot and follow her.
She sits on one end, turning so her back is pressed into the armrest, and crosses her legs Indian-style.
I settle onto the opposite end, but angle her way. When I place the folder on my lap, her eyes drop to it before coming back up to meet mine. They’re filled with questions.
Opening the folder, I pull out the first document—three pages stapled in the top left center. I don’t hand it to her. Instead, I hold them loosely.
“These are annulment papers,” I say.
Jaime gasps, her eyes going wide.
Before she can say anything, I rush to explain. “If you want this marriage annulled, all you have to do is sign. I’ve thought about it a lot, and you and I started our marriage in the worst of ways—with a lie between us. I really listened to what you said the other night, and how it was a complete abuse of your trust. But worse than that was the fact I didn’t have enough trust in you to be honest, and I know that probably hurt you worse than anything. So please understand, I truly heard you, and I get how you’re feeling. Therefore, these are here to sign if you want to dissolve the marriage.”
Jaime’s face pales, her eyes flitting between the papers in my hand and my face. “You just… want to annul the marriage? Go our separate ways?”
“No,” I reply firmly. “If you sign those annulment papers, I would like to start over with you. Maybe not from the very beginning, but right before Vegas. It’s really when I was going to tell you… when I knew I was in love with you and knew I had to tell you the truth.”
“Oh,” she murmurs. It’s a word of understanding, but the best I can describe her expression and tone of voice is confused.
Leaning forward, I set the paperwork on the coffee table and tap the folder, which clearly holds more documents. “I have a few more things to show you.”