Chapter Two

Steve was scared. In the last twenty-seven years, he'd never spent one minute doubting Jaime's love for him or the strength of their relationship. Their bond had always been rock-solid; it still was. He'd never felt the need to ask Jaime for the details of her relationship with Michael. Jaime had made her choice, and Steve thanked his lucky stars every day that she'd chosen him. Michael had faded quietly into a distant memory, but now he was back in their lives, however indirectly, and spending far more time with Jaime than Steve could comfortably deal with.

One question loomed large in Steve's mind, and he wished he'd thought to find the answer, so many years ago. Just how close were Jaime and Michael, when they'd been together? Michael had been honest enough to admit he hadn't lost his feelings for her, but what about Jaime? Had she been in love with Michael? Although she'd chosen to leave him behind, did she still love him? Steve found himself suddenly needing to know the truth, and he knew the question would hurt Jaime, make her feel accused, untrusted. Still...the alternatives were much worse, and Steve was still trying to find the courage (and the right words) when Jaime walked in the door.

He busied himself clearing the coffee table, plumping the pillows on the sofa and straightening pictures on the mantel ; anything to avoid looking at his wife and seeing something that might break his heart. Jaime saw that he was still in the same morose mood he'd been in for days, and she interrupted his 'busywork' by hugging him tightly, beaming happiness at him and wishing some of it would sink in. "It'll be a beautiful wedding, Steve," she enthused.

"Oh? Good."

"Daniel is perfect for her - when she's with him, she just...glows."

"Yeah..." he responded, a vacant look in his eyes.

"After the wedding, we're gonna strap wings on everyone's back so they can all fly to Mars for the reception."

"Uh-huh."

Jaime looked questioningly at him. "Steve, what is wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You've been...preoccupied all week. I'll go put dinner in the oven, grab some wine, and we can talk, ok?" She took the chicken out of its marinade, threw it in a pan in the oven and re-joined her husband with a bottle and two glasses. "Please talk to me," she said, softly touching her fingertips to his face in a tender caress. Steve stared at the floor, forcing back the flood of emotions and looking for the right way to say what was on his mind.

"Jaime...way back, when you were with Michael..." Steve felt her stiffen slightly in his arms, and an icy-cold fear gripped his heart and squeezed hard. Forgive me, Sweetheart, he thought silently. "How close were you?"

Jaime was shocked. "I'm not sure exactly what you're asking. Do you wanna know if I slept with him?"

"Did you...love him?"

"Steve...I married you."

"Did you love him?"

"I suppose I could've, eventually -" she answered, trying to be as honest as possible.

"He still loves you."

"Oh, I doubt that."

"He told me he did, right before Hannah and Daniel got engaged. What does 'I could've' mean?"

"Neither one of us ever used the word love. If we'd been together a little longer, outside of the hospital, it might've led to that, but no. We were close, but I was never in love with him."

"How close?"

Tears sprang to Jaime's eyes. If Steve didn't know by now that he was her one and only love, she'd been doing something terribly wrong for twenty-seven years. "I'm gonna go check the chicken," she told him, hurrying from the room before she began to cry in earnest.

- - - - - -

Hannah sat silently, trying to absorb the information. "You don't think they had an affair, do you?" she finally asked. "My mom and dad were married by then. She would never cheat on him; there's just no way."

"Whatever happened, my parents split up over it. Doesn't sound minor to me," Daniel concluded.

"I don't know what to say about that. I'm sorry your parents split, but maybe it was some weird insecurity your mother had. My parents are closer than any other two people I've ever known. There was no affair."

- - - - - -

Michael sat alone on his bed, deep in thought. He opened the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out an old, worn photograph. He and Jaime, arms around each other, smiled brightly for the camera. It was the only picture ever taken of the two of them as a couple. He'd assured Steve he would never interfere in his marriage to Jaime, and Michael intended to keep his word, but damn, it hurt! He longed to step into the picture, back to that time in his life, and do it all differently. He'd fight to keep the woman he loved, instead of backing away. Not an actual fistfight - with Steve, that would be suicidal. If only he could re-live it, he would tell Jaime exactly how he felt, ask her to stay with him - beg her, if necessary. Would things have turned out differently? If he was ever going to have peace of mind, Michael needed to talk to Jaime, to find out the answer, once and for all.

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