“Listen, you have to...” he begins, but she cuts him off.
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. I’m here. I’m home. God, my husband, my baby, I’ve missed you so much,” she croaks, wrapping her arms around him again.
Husband?
Husband?
That’s it for me, I reach down to the table by the door and take my keys. I need to get out of here. I can’t hear any more of this. I can’t even think. My mind is swimming as it tries to process what the hell just happened.
“Willow,” Jagger yells.
I rush out the front door and onto the sidewalk, a moment later Jagger is behind me and gripping my arm, spinning me around to face him. His face is red, and his eyes are glassy, he’s panting with a mixture of shock and rushing out to stop me.
“Wait. Let me explain. I didn’t fuckin’ know she was alive. I didn’t...I thought she was dead.”
“A wife?” I cry. “You have a wife and you never thought to mention that?”
“I thought she was dead,” he answers, his face a whole lot paler than it was a few minutes ago, “I honestly thought she was dead. My mind is fuckin’ swimming right now.”
I have so many questions. So many things I want to say. I want to call him a liar because he never told me, never even thought to mention it. But I also feel incredibly selfish because it’s hardly his fault. I can’t think. The only thing that comes out is the question that doesn’t really matter at this stage, and yet it’s the only thing my brain will conjure up.
“Did you love her?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still?”
He just stares at me. How is he supposed to answer that?
“My wife just came back from the dead,” he whispers, “how can you ask me something like that?”
“You have a wife,” I croak. “You’re married, Jagger.”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t tell me that. You never thought to tell me that?”
“Jesus, I’m not going over this now. No, I didn’t mention it. I don’t fuckin’ think it was relevant considering I thought she was fuckin’ dead and it was one of the hardest times in my life.”
My mind is spinning. I can’t think.
I can barely breathe.
How can I be angry at him? I can’t be. That wouldn’t be fair. But I know I need to process this. I need to stop my mind from turning.
“What does this mean?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what it means.”
Those words crush me, even though I don’t blame him for them.
How can I?
I know what it feels like to see someone you thought was dead.
That someone is his wife.
Jagger has a wife.
Someone he loved.
Someone he wanted to share his life with.
And she’s beautiful, so damned beautiful.
“I need to process this,” he tells me, his voice defeated. “I’ll take her home.”
Home.
To his house.
To the house I spent so much time with him.
The place that brought us together and, funnily, the place that’ll tear us apart.
I nod. It’s all I can do.
“I’ll go out so you can pack your things,” I say, my voice hitching.
“Willow...”
I turn, without another word, and I walk away.
I just walk away.
There is nothing else to do.
Jagger has a wife.
A wife.
How am I supposed to live with that?
TO BE CONTINUED...