JENNIE

..

..

We do a great job of ignoring the unanswered questions. She flies. I work on photo editing and my social media pages. On our anniversary, she sends me a huge bouquet of roses. Again, I'm confused about this marriage right now. If it's not that kind of marriage, why send flowers?

Jisoo's dad dies, and I go to New York for the funeral. I'm not sure when she'll be ready to resume traveling, but I hope it's soon because it's painful to live with my wife and not really feel like her wife.

"Hey!" Lisa grins as she pokes her head into the kitchen after being gone for two days. "Happy birthday."

I close my computer at the kitchen table and scoot back in my chair as she sets a pink box with a black ribbon on the table next to my computer before dropping a slow kiss on my lips.

"Thank you," I murmur and grin as she sits in the chair next to me, loosening her tie. "You shouldn't have," I say while ripping the bow off the box. I don't really mean it. I haven't been given many presents in my life. I haven't had that many birthdays acknowledged either, so I selfishly enjoy this moment.

I lift the lid. There's a hardback photography book. Diane Arbus: An Aperture Monograph.

"Lisa …" I whisper when I see it's a 1972 first edition.

It's filled with portraits of unconventional poses of ordinary working-class people as well as those who lived on the fringes of society, like prostitutes and giants. She spent some money to buy this.

I hug the book to my chest. "It's too much, but perfect. You're so thoughtful. I …" I stop before silly tears fill my eyes. "Thank you." Setting the book back in the box, I straddle her lap, wrap my arms around her neck, and thoroughly kiss her.

"What are you doing?" she says in a husky voice as I slide off her lap and kneel before her, my hands working the belt to her pants. "I didn't buy you that so that you'd …" She pauses and draws in a long breath when my hand wraps around her. "I'm just…" she fumbles her words "…saying you don't have to … fuuuck …" She closes her eyes when my mouth replaces my hand.

True intimacy is hard to navigate. Feeling love toward another human in this way. Wanting to please Lisa because I love her, not because I'm trying to pay her back or earn her love. Most days, I don't focus on how much my life has been impacted by not having a father. It's easy to pretend that I have a healthy grip on intimacy and relationships, but I don't. I'm still learning.

With nothing more than a satisfied and very appreciative grin, Lisa saunters to the bathroom for a shower. "Get ready," she calls from halfway down the hallway. "I'm taking you to dinner."

I giggle, utterly giddy with excitement. She doesn't show signs of guilt, like I did it only because she gave me a present. She doesn't rush to reciprocate—although I have no doubt she'll show plenty of birthday gratitude later. It feels … normal. In the least normal circumstances, I've found a little balance.

Lisa takes me to a Japanese restaurant where we remove our shoes at the door. I give her a curious look.

She winks. "First time?"

I nod.

"Good." Her shoulders slide back, chin up, as a triumphant grin bends her lips. "I'm glad I'm giving you a first experience."

The hostess takes us to our table. I give Lisa a second curious expression. She nods for me to be seated first, so I ease onto a pillow and slide my feet into the sunken space beneath the low table.

"It's zashiki seating," she says after we're handed our menus.

"And you know this because you come here often or you've been to Japan?"

Glancing at her menu, she shrugs. "Both. Oh … Chan and Danielle's wedding has been moved up to next week. So you'll be able to make it unless Jisoo's planning on leaving before then."

"Why is the wedding next week?"

"Danielle's grandma isn't doing well, and she wants to be at the wedding."

"I thought you were going to say she's pregnant."

Lisa laughs, unfolding her napkin and laying it on her lap. "No. But that would make sense too."

"So I'll meet her for the first time at the wedding?"

"Probably."

"What's she like?" I ask.

We pause our conversation to order our drinks and meals, and as soon as we're alone again, Lisa narrows her eyes at me. "Where were we? Oh, yeah. Danielle. She's a pharmacist. And she loves Chan's bad jokes. They both want one child and a dog."

I smile, but it fades quickly as I nod slowly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Did you and Chaeng plan on having kids?"

Lisa's brow tenses like a sheet of lined paper. "Yes."

"Do you still want kids?"

She blows out a long breath, slowly shaking her head while rubbing a hand over her face. "I can't talk about this."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, tapping the side of my water glass with my fingernails.

"No." She drops her hand to her lap. "It's fine. I'm just not sure what I want, so it's hard to think along the lines of kids when I'm not even thinking about marriage again."

I frown.

Lisa pinches the bridge of her nose. "Fuck … I am married." She chuckles.

Following her lead, I snort a laugh. "I heard that rumor too. Are congratulations or condolences in order?"

"Jennie … I didn't mean it like that." She bites her lips together and shakes her head.

"It's okay. When the conversation starts with having kids and leads to the mother of your possible future children, I don't expect you to think of me as that woman."

Lisa studies me with an unreadable expression before sliding her hand across the table and covering mine with a gentle squeeze. "Listen, I don't know where I'm going. I don't know where you're going. But I can say that right now I like where we're at."

I smile, and it's mostly genuine, but I don't feel like I know where we are right now. It's an uncomfortable happiness.

..

A little before six the next morning, I head out for a jog, a weak attempt at clearing my mind. After pounding out just over five miles, I turn onto our street and see Lisa in the driveway staring at her watch. She's breathing heavily and sweating. She, too, needed a good run this morning.

"How far did you go?" I ask.

She turns and a slow grin works its way up her face. "Good morning. Eight miles."

I roll my eyes as my spine deflates on a long exhale. "Of course you did."

"Go shower. I'll take you to breakfast."

"You took me to dinner."

"Well, now it's time for breakfast. And I want nothing more than to take you to breakfast." She steps closer to me and links her finger with mine, giving it a tiny shake that's just as playful as her expression.

"Yeah?" I say, feeling giddy.

Her grin swells. "Yeah."

I duck my head to hide my ridiculous level of excitement as I speed walk to the front door and sprint to the shower. By the time I emerge from the bathroom with my hair doing its usual limp act, Lisa is waiting by the back door.

She glances up from her phone and smiles. "Ready?"

"Ready." I slide my purse onto my shoulder as she holds open the door for me.

We don't say anything for a few blocks, and then Lisa clears her throat.

"I know you supported Rosé's Cap'n Crunch addiction."

I didn't see this coming. My gaze slides to her, but she keeps her attention on the road. I know you gave her an overdose of morphine. Again, I don't say that. Will I ever be able to say that? Will she ever confide in me?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar." Lisa grins. "She hid it from me, just not very well." She chuckles. "Crumbs in the bed. Yep, I found crumbs after you two had been watching one of those trashy reality TV shows. So you knew."

I drum my fingers on my jean clad legs. "In my defense—"

"You don't need a defense. I fed her addiction too. It took her forever to go through a box, so it would go stale. I'd replace the box, eat a bowl or two of cereal when she wasn't looking, always leaving about the same amount that was in it when it went stale. Alice knew. She'd pretend to buy it for Rosé, but it was me. Always me."

Warmth floods my chest. Lalisa Manoban is a beautiful human. My love for her is fueled just as much by the kind wife she was to Chaeng as the lover she is to me.

"I knew," she continues, "that she wasn't going to be in my life forever. I never let her see my weak moments of acceptance. So I played the obsessed wife on a mission to save her. And some days I let myself believe that I actually had that power. But most days … I knew better. Those were the days I replaced cereal and painted her toenails with toxic polish. Those were the days I let her just … be."

"Yeah. We've all been there. I told you that I dated JK for as long as I did because I needed the free gym membership. And by free gym membership, I mean I needed the locker room showers. In hindsight … who trades sexual favors for a shower?"

After a few seconds of silence, she coughs a laugh. "That's … I can't … Jennie …" Lisa tries not to laugh, but she can't help it.

My story has nothing to do with her story, and we both know it. It's just another example of how we give each other a reprieve without asking for it. It's how we take the unbearable gravity from the moment. This is us. It's something that's uniquely us. I highly doubt she did this with Chaeng.

Lisa pulls into a café and turns off the car. When she unfastens her seat belt and glances at me, I return a goofy tight-lipped grin. We get out of her car without saying a word, and then she steps in front of me before we make it two feet past her car. "I don't regret a single second with you, in case you think that."

My gaze cuts to hers.

Before I can say a word, she continues, "I'm trying so hard not to live in the past, to stay grounded in each moment. There have been many moments lately where your touch has saved me. I realize things happen in the moment without thinking too much about the ramifications for the future. My expectations are low. The lowest."

Rolling my lips between my teeth, I nod slowly. "That's a little sad. You should raise your expectations."

"Maybe." She nods her head toward the café. "Let's eat."

After the waitress hands us menus, I eye Lisa over the top of mine as she scans hers for a few seconds before glancing up at me.

"What?" She grins.

Tracing my fingernail along the edge of the menu, a mix of bacon and maple syrup waft past me as the waitress delivers food to the booth behind us. "If we're never more than a fake marriage and mind-blowing sex, do you think you'll ever tell anyone about us? Would you ever tell your family that you married me to give me insurance? If you marry again, will you tell your next wife?"

When enough time passes and she doesn't answer me, I shift my attention from the menu to her contemplative expression.

"Mind-blowing, huh?" She doesn't look at me, but she smirks. "Have you been asked if you're married? When traveling, has anyone ever asked you that?"

"Yes," I answer her honestly.

"And what do you say?"

"I say no."

"Why?"

I laugh a little. "You know why."

Lisa returns a slow nod. "Do you ever think of saying yes?"

I shrug. "Sometimes."

"Why?"

Another shrug. "You said it yourself; I like the idea of you."

"The idea of me …" She echoes with a partial grin.

"A wife. A home. Family. A woman unlike any woman I have ever known." My lips twist. "Granted, I've never met my father, and my mother didn't exactly parade the greatest men through our apartment. So the bar has been set incredibly low, but I have a feeling you surpass even the highest bar. And I think I knew it from the day we met and I saw you with Chaeng. The day I witnessed true love."

A hue of pink fills her face as her gaze averts to the right. Sliding my water and the wrapped silverware toward her, I move to her side of the table. "Scooch over."

She eyes me suspiciously but obliges.

I sit next to her and rest my elbow on the table, cheek in my hand, as I gaze at her and smile. "My first year in college, I went on a date, and this couple … maybe in their thirties … were sitting in a booth, on the same side. They must have ordered one of everything on the menu because their table was filled with food when we were seated, and they were still there when we left the restaurant. I watched them more than I paid attention to my date. They laughed. Ate. Playfully nudged each other. And sometimes he leaned into her and whispered something in her ear. She grinned. He kissed her cheek. They seemed to take turns resting a hand on each other's leg. It was like they had all the time in the world. And they certainly didn't care what anyone else in the restaurant thought of them because they were so engrossed in each other." My other hand rests on Lisa's leg.

She smiles and it's a little reminiscent of the smile she used to give Chaeng.

"So," I continue, "I remember thinking that one day I would find someone worthy of sharing the same side of a booth with me."

Lisa's grin intensifies, warm like the sun hitting its highest point in the afternoon sky. Her fingers curl my hair behind one ear while she leans into me and whispers, "I'm going to order the Belgium waffle with a side of eggs." Then her lips brush along my cheek, dropping a kiss on it.

I giggle.

We spend the next hour and a half eating, flirting, touching, and simply being totally engrossed with each other. It's butterfly season in my belly. Did Chaeng know Lisa would be the one to give me them? Was it more than just a casual hope, a wink of approval?

..

Three days before the wedding, I slide out of bed and hit the pavement for a long jog. Sometimes exercise gives me clarity, but not this morning. By the time I arrive home, Lisa is dressed and watering the plants in the jungle. "You snuck out early," she says as I inspect a few of the plants and pinch off the dead leaves like Chaeng taught me to do. "You should have woken me; I would have gone with you."

"I needed some headspace," I say.

"O-kay …" Lisa sets the watering can aside and rests her hands on my hips, inspecting me for a few seconds. "Are you better now?"

"I think so."

She kisses me, and I can't help but surrender to her. I don't like feeling so out of sorts about our situation.

"Do you have a dress for the wedding?"

I take a step back and laugh. "I'm a fashion loving woman … you're not actually asking me that, are you?"

Lisa chuckles. "You're right. But fashion loving women can never have too many dresses."

"Lisa, Lisa, Lisa … you speak my language. I might never let you go."

Something in her expression changes. She looks … fearful? Surprised? I can't tell.

"Do you have a tux rented?"

She shakes her head. "It's a small gathering, immediate family and a few friends. Chan said I can wear a suit."

"I need to see your suits."

"Why? There's nothing wrong with my suits."

I shoulder past her toward the bedroom. "I'll be the judge of that."

"So now you're judging my wardrobe?" She follows me.

"Yes. I am absolutely judging your wardrobe. I've silently judged it since the day we met." I sift through all two of her suits that aren't for her job.

"The gray one. Rosé liked it best," she says.

I glance over my shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "Agreed. You look very handsome in this gray suit. But … you wore it to her funeral. You are done wearing it."

"No one will remember that I wore it to her funeral. It's a plain gray suit. Nobody pays attention to stuff like that."

I set her black suit on the bed and return to the closet to inspect her shirts and ties. "And by nobody, you mean men—men don't pay attention to stuff like that. But I guarantee your mom will remember you wore this suit. I'm sure the image of her oldest kid standing in her gray suit next to her wife's casket is branded into her memory forever."

"Rosé loved this suit," she murmurs, a fixed gaze on it.

"She loved you." I pull several shirts from their hangers. "Those are threads woven into a suit. Now it's a memory of a very sad day."

"So is my bed."

I fold the shirts over my arm and glance up at her. "Then get a new bed."

"Do you want me to get a new bed?"

I shake my head and return to said bed, layering the shirt beneath the suit jacket. My knee-jerk reply is to tell her that at some point I'm leaving again. If this bed brings her comfort, I would never deny her that when I'm halfway around the world.

I don't tell her that. For the moment, I'm going to pretend that I'm not leaving.

"Do you like the bed? Is it comfortable for you? If so, then keep it. You can flip the mattress. Get new bedding. Change out the headboard. Rearrange the room. Paint the walls. Hell, you could move to a different house. You should do what you need to do. And if you need everything to stay the same, then leave everything as is. The heart has little control over what it needs. And I have no opinion here. Other than the suit. I cannot, in good conscience, let you wear it to the wedding."

Lisa sits on the edge of the bed, hands folded between her spread legs. "It doesn't bother you? The bed. The house. The chair and quilt. She's everywhere and you're okay with that?"

With a slight chuckle, I return to the closet, snatching ties and shoes. She only has two pairs of dress shoes as well. And one is a black pair she wears for work. We need to go shopping. "Sometimes I think you forget that I loved her too. She was my best friend even if I wasn't truly hers. I liked her way more than I like you."

I lie.

"That's harsh." She gives me a funny look as I emerge from the closet with ties and shoes.

"No. Harsh is your tie and shoe selection. Lisa, this is not okay. I'm not going to lie, I'm a little disappointed in Chaeng for allowing you to have such a boring wardrobe. I mean …" I stand back and inspect everything laid out on the bed. It's cringe-worthy. "This isn't going to work."

"I'm not buying a new suit for this wedding. I rarely wear a suit that's not my uniform. It's a waste of money."

"Then a new shirt, tie, and shoes."

"There's nothing wrong with my shirts."

"Lisa …" I frown. "You're killing my fashion-loving heart right now. Killing it."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. A new shirt."

"Tie and shoes."

"Nobody will be looking at my shoes."

"I will!" I rest my fists on my hips and glance up at the ceiling, blowing out a breath of frustration.

"Then just keep your eyes on my face."

"Lisa …"

"Jennie …" she mocks me. "New shirt and tie. Final offer."

"Fine." I huff and march down the hall to my bathroom. "I'll take a quick shower. Pack up my breakfast. I'll eat it on the way."

"I could join you in the shower."

"No, Lalisa. Fashion is foreplay. That's why women wear lingerie. You've ruined the moment."

As I close the door behind me, I hear her chuckling. It makes me grin. I'm proud of myself for being brave (courageous) enough to show maturity when she asked me about the bed, about Chaeng's presence that will linger in this house forever.

..

"That's a feminine tie," Lisa says as I hold up several ties.

"I'm going to request that you not speak. If we got on a plane, I would not tell you how to fly it. M-kay, pumpkin?" I say in my sweetest voice.

"I don't like this. I'm not a mannequin you can dress up. I just want that to be on record."

"Noted. But overruled."

Her eyes bulge at the price tag. "It's a hundred-dollar tie."

"I know. They're all cheap ties, but we don't have a big choice with so little time."

"Cheap? A hundred dollars is cheap for a tie?"

"In the fashion world, yes."

"Jesus Christ."

"This will work. Shirt and tie for under three hundred dollars. My treat." I saunter to the checkout.

She tosses her credit card on the counter. "You're not buying my clothes."

"I am." I give the sales lady a wink while handing her my credit card.

She smirks, shooting Lisa a quick glance.

"Hey, Lisa …"

I turn as a couple approaches us. They look close to Lisa's age.

"Oh, hey!" She grins.

"How's it going?" the guy asks.

I sign for the tie and shirt and take the bag.

As I sidle up to Lisa, the couple eye me and then her.

Lisa seems at a loss for words, so I extend my hand. "Hi. I'm Jennie."

"Kai. And this is my wife, Kris."

I smile. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah … um …" Lisa fumbles her words. "Jennie was just helping me pick out a new shirt and tie for Chan's wedding."

"Chan's getting married?" Kai asks.

"Yes. Just a small wedding at our parents' house."

"Tell him congratulations."

Lisa nods. "I will." She gives me a quick glance, and I return a tight smile. "Kai used to work with me. Now he works for a private jet company."

I nod. "Ah, I see."

"And …" Lisa shifts her attention to Kai and Kris. "Jennie used to clean our house. She and Rosé became close. Now she travels the world taking amazing photos and videos with another photographer."

"Wow! That's pretty exciting," Kris says.

It is exciting. Though not as exciting as this really awkward conversation where Lisa has no idea how to explain who I am in her life. Yes, I was Rosé's friend, but she's dead now. Yes, I cleaned her house, but it's no longer my job. I can see the unanswered questions on their faces.

"Well, you owe me lunch now." I gaze up at Lisa while slipping my hand into her back pocket—something a friend or ex-maid would not do. Then I prepare myself for the backlash … for her body to go rigid or some other subtle rejection.

She doesn't. There might be a two second pause, but that's all it takes for her to hook her arm around my waist and pull me closer. "Yes, let's get lunch," she says.

I don't expect this, and it makes me feel guilty for doubting her. Maybe all she needed was for me to show her that not everything needs a verbal explanation. Kai and Kris see that we are more than friends, and we didn't have to say one word about it.

"Well, enjoy your lunch," Kai says before we stroll toward the exit.

As we make our way to the car, Lisa says, "Thank you."

"For what?"

She leans to the side and kisses my head. "You know what for."

I grin. Yes, I do.

..

"It's still a feminine pink tie," Lisa grumbles as I tie her cranberry tie.

"Fashion foreplay, remember?"

"Is that code for I'm getting laid later?"

I stay focused on her tie, making the perfect Windsor knot. "Untie my sash if you want to know what you're getting later." My lips purse into a tiny smirk.

"Untie this, huh?" She tugs the tie to my satin robe.

My hair is curled in loose waves. Makeup applied, including cranberry lips. I just need to slip into my dress and heels before we leave.

My robe falls open when she unties it.

"Well … fuck … me …"

My smirk breaks into a bigger grin, eating up every ounce of her reaction to my black lace push up bra and matching thong. The lace bra does nothing to hide my nipples. It's really just a tease.

"Oh, trust me … I'm going to insist you leave on the tie, but everything else can go later when we do fuck."

"The wedding doesn't start for two hours …" The pad of her thumb circles the lace over my nipple.

"Don't even think about it. I'm not messing up my hair and makeup."

"Jen …" Her fingertips ghost along my stomach, her thumb sliding into my lace panties. "I can enjoy my wife without messing with your hair and makeup."

My breath hitches, and my hands grip her arms. My wife.

The couple at the mall. And now making claim to me as her wife. I like this shift. This shift plants so many possibilities into my head … and my heart. Acceptance. I feel accepted and acknowledged for who I am.

Not a charity case.

Not a checked-off box on a list of good deeds.

Not a dirty little secret.

"Lisa … no …" I attempt a weak protest as I notice, for the first time, that the jar of rocks is gone. I wouldn't have cared if she kept them, but their absence is one more thing that affirms there is an us and we are real.

"You wanted me to see this …" she says with a low and seductive voice that brings a rush of adrenaline to my veins, pumping my heart faster. "As a preview. So I want to give you a preview of what you can expect from me later."

"Lisa …" I swallow hard as she backs me into the vanity. My hands grip the edge while she kneels in front of me, sliding my panties down my legs.

"When you leave with Jisoo again…" she sets my panties on the vanity stool and gives me a wicked grin while easing my legs apart with her hands on my knees "…I'm going to miss many things about you." She slowly wets her lips, and I instantly feel drunk with need. "But this …" Her gaze shifts to my spread legs. "The look in your eyes when I do this … I can't begin to describe how much I'm going to fucking miss it."

The first swipe of her tongue rips a harsh gasp from my chest, but within seconds of her warm mouth covering me there … I draw my knees up, close my eyes, and come completely undone.

One hand fisting her hair.

My other hand clenching the edge of the vanity.

It's more than love. It's more than physical gratification.

Lisa makes me feel sensual. She sparks passion inside of me. Our intimacy builds my confidence as a woman. I don't know if I can trust her with my heart, but I trust her with my body. I trust her with my physical vulnerability.

Life is a series of moments, and we deem some moments more important than other moments. I won't remember standing in line for coffee, but I'll remember the first time Jisoo complimented one of my photos while we sipped coffee at the interview. I won't remember the shirt I picked out for Lisa to wear to this wedding, but I'll remember the cranberry tie and what she did to me after I tied it around her neck for the first time.

People devote their lives to God and sacrifice their human desires, so it would seem ridiculous for any human to put sexual gratification high on a list of important moments in life. Yet, here I am, adding this moment to a rare list of moments that I will never forget, and one that I'm not sure I can live without. It's the words she says and the way she says them.

Every subtle grin, like she'd rather not, but she can't help herself.

Every kiss to the top of my head, where she inhales deeply just before her lips make contact.

Every time she pulls me into her body, on a sofa or just standing next to her like she can't get close enough to me.

Every. Single. Moment.

I'm going to miss them, and I'm going to compare every new moment to them.

..

Lisa can't stop staring at my black lace overlay gown with a slightly off-the-shoulder neckline and a generous slit up the leg. I think it's the cranberry sash around the waist that has her attention. Also noteworthy, everyone— even Lisa's dad—compliments her on her tie.

"Do I get to say I told you so now …" In one hand I hold a glass of champagne and my other hand strokes Lisa's tie. "Or do you want me to wait until later?"

She sips her champagne. "You didn't tell me the tie thingy to your dress was pink."

I chuckle. "Because it's not pink. It's cranberry."

"Red."

I shake my head. "Cranberry."

"Cranberry …" she mouths seductively, and I can't help my snort and giggle.

"What a lovely dress." Danielle's mother stops on her way to the newlyweds to give me a quick once-over.

"Thank you." I smile.

Lisa makes the formal introduction like the gentlewoman she is. "Vicky, this is Jennie. Jen, this is Danielle's mom, Vicky."

"Will the next wedding here be yours, Lisa?" She winks. "Or …" She twists her lips and squints as if trying to recall something. "Are you already married? I feel like I heard you were married."

Before my heart has a chance to form a solid opinion about the appropriate response to Vicky's questions, Lisa speaks up, taking a step away from me.

A.

Step.

Away.

From.

Me!

"No. I'm not married. I was married, but my wife died."

I step closer to her and reach for her hand, but she slips it into her pocket.

The world stops turning. Life as I know it comes to a screeching halt. Reality rears its ugly head, and I feel the wrath of my own stupidity cut right down the center of my heart.

Today is the day … or it was supposed to be the day. Today her family was going to find out about us. We didn't discuss it. It was implied. Wasn't it? Just hours ago, she lovingly called me her wife and did something incredibly intimate to said wife.

Wife. I am her wife!

Or … I'm fucking delusional.

"I'm very sorry to hear that." Vicky continues toward the cake table.

My brain trips over the flood of thoughts and potential explanations for what she just said.

Did she legitimately forget we're married? She's relaxed, sipping champagne like that interaction, the lie, did not just happen. And I know … I really do know that spilling the truth to Danielle's mom before anyone else would not be the best idea. At least my brain knows it. My heart is too busy bleeding to process actual thoughts. The rational kind.

Why are we hiding now? We weren't real, but … we're real now. Right? We don't have to tell anyone, just let them see it.

Us holding hands.

Her whispering in my ear and brushing her lips along my cheek while grinning.

Until this exact moment, I didn't fully understand how much that elephant in the room mattered to me, my feelings toward Lisa, and my decisions about my future.

"Want some cake?" Lisa asks.

I shake my head slowly. I don't want cake. I want to know why today is not the day to just put it out there.

"Gather around, single ladies!" Vicky calls. "It's time for Danni to toss her bouquet."

It's a small wedding, maybe thirty people. So there are only two single ladies here: Danielle's best friend and her younger sister.

"Miss Jennie …" Vicky crooks her finger at me. "Bring your pretty, single self over here."

Three. Apparently, there are three single ladies here.

Lisa gives me a little nudge with her hand on my lower back. I shake her off, shooting her a scowl over my shoulder. I want to kill her. I'm certain I will kill her. It's only a matter of time.

Still, I keep a semblance of composure, even if it's only a thread.

"Get going, single lady," she says, and it's fire to my fuse.

The thread breaks.

Everything inside my body feels … tight and warm. Feverishly warm. An unnerving, prickly sensation spreads along my skin. I stand way back, giving the other two single women ample room to catch the bouquet.

"One, two, THREE!"

Danielle tosses it over her head, and holy fucking Tom Brady arm … she surpasses the other two girls as the cannonball of flowers nearly takes off my head. I catch it, earning me disappointed frowns from her sister and BFF. Flipping it back into the air like a game of hot potato, it lands in the arms of her sister.

"No. You caught it." She hands it back to me.

The small gathering claps. And that sparked flame? It hits the other end of the fuse. I'd say I'm seeing red … but it's really cranberry. I see nothing but cranberry. Feel nothing but pure rage. Hear nothing but the whoosh of blood in my ears as I turn and stomp my heeled feet toward Lisa. I guess everything in life is fine … until it's not. Not fine rarely comes with any warning.

She's grinning, but that grin begins to fade with each enraged step I take on my way to her. Her gaze follows my hand clenching the bouquet like an ax. With my final two steps, I lift the bouquet over my head.

"I AM NOT SINGLE!"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"YOUR WIFE IS NOT DEAD!"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"I AM YOUR FUCKING WIFE!"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"YOU INSENSITIVE ASSHOLE!"

All that's left in my hand is a wad of flowerless stems tied with a ribbon. I drop the stems as Lisa slowly lowers her arms that shielded her head while I clobbered her with the bouquet because she said her wife was dead.

Because she stepped away from me.

Because she called me her wife before she put her face between my legs.

Because she stuck her hand in her pocket when I went to hold it.

It's so quiet I not only hear my own pounding heart, I think I can hear hers too.

What have I done?

Did Lisa ask herself that same question after she gave Chaeng an overdose of morphine? Were her actions well-thought-out? Or was she acting on impulse, letting her fragile heart make the decision?

"Y-you're married?" Cecilia's voice breaks through the air as she appears at Lisa's side.

The lifeless expression on her face mirrors mine. She knew about the elephant in the room. She chose to ignore it. Now it's come out of the corner and destroyed everything with its raging stampede.

"Yes," Lisa whispers.

"W-when?" Cecilia asks.

Lisa blinks several more times, the only part of her face that moves. "Last year."

Cecilia's hand shoots to her chest. She knows that means we got married not long after Chaeng died. She just doesn't know why. And maybe it's none of her business. And maybe I should have held my shit together—there's no maybe about it. I channeled my inner three-year-old, and I can't undo what I just did. But love makes people do crazy things. It won't sit idle in a corner. Love demands recognition or … it explodes.

"Were you …" Cecilia gets a little choked up. "Having an aff—"

"No," Lisa cuts her off.

"Then why?"

I can't take my eyes off Lisa, and she can't take hers off me.

"Do you want to tell everyone why we got married?" Lisa asks me. Her tone holds no anger. It's the epitome of surrender. Defeat.

Be mad, Lisa. Please be mad. Be human!

I blink, releasing my tears, feeling toxic with regret. "No," my voice cracks. "I …" My head inches side to side. "I just wanted to be acknowledged as your wife." I sniffle while snot works its way down my nose. A lovely accessory to my fancy dress.

"Well … now everyone knows you're my wife. Happy?" Lisa pivots and worms her way through the small gathering. A few seconds later, the front door slams shut.

I chase after her, but she's already pulling out of their driveway. Lifting the skirt of my dress, I run to catch her, but my heels can't keep up. When I reach the end of their long drive, I wipe my tears through my labored breaths.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to her taillights.

By the time I return to the porch, everyone's gathered at the front of the house, gawking out the windows. I open the door and the crowd scatters—everyone except Cecilia.

"I am … so sorry," I say to her. It hurts to look at her, so I don't. I retrieve my purse and wrap from the library and order a ride.

"I'll take you home or wherever you want to go if you please tell me what just happened," she says.

"Your daughter is a good Samaritan. That's what happened. She's given me more than I deserve. And it wasn't enough. That's on me. And I've ruined a wedding and ruined my relationship with her. I am incredibly sorry." I wipe a stray tear as I make my way to the front door again.

"I still don't understand."

As I open the door, I glance over my shoulder and offer her a painful smile and slight shrug. "It's no longer my story to tell. It never really was. Please give my sincerest apologies to Chanyeol and Danni."

When my ride arrives, I have no choice but to return to Lisa's house. My stuff is there. My passport. My cat.

A haunting silence greets me when I open the door and slip off my heels. I swallow my fear and deflated pride while dragging my feet to her bedroom. My shaky hand wraps around the handle to push it down, but it won't budge.

She's locked me out.

Making a fist, I lift it to knock, but I stop short. My fingers uncurl, and I rest my palm on the door, closing my eyes. What have I done?

"I'm sorry," I whisper again before retreating to my bedroom. I don't have the energy to remove my makeup or put on a nightshirt. I manage to get out of my dress and crawl into bed in my bra and panties. My arms hug a pillow to my body, and my tears eventually dry.

My mind settles.

And I fall asleep.

..

The next morning, the high-pitch churning of the coffee grinder brings me out of my coma of regret. Before I can make the walk of shame, I shower and slip into jeans and a tee. Hair wet. Eyes still a little red and swollen. As much as I wish I could teleport myself to literally anywhere else in the world, I can't. So I pad my way to the kitchen.

Lisa doesn't look up from her plate or her phone next to it. She keeps one hand curled around her coffee mug, slowly bringing it to her lips like I'm not in the room. I pour myself a cup of coffee and ease into the seat next to her. Still, she acts like I'm not here.

"I think …" I press my lips together and carefully weigh my words. "I think I wanted to be your real wife. And yesterday you made me feel like a nobody after you made me feel … well, like somebody to you. You actually took a step away from me to announce your widower status. And when I tried to hold your hand, you shoved it into your pocket."

I ease my head back and forth. "I can't be intimate with you and be a nobody. Maybe I thought I could, but I can't." I cup my coffee mug with both hands and stare at the black water instead of waiting for her to look at me. "My mother never married. She never demanded someone be accountable to her for more than one night. She never dared to dream big, to feel like she deserved a place in this world where she truly belonged, where she felt security and unconditional love.

"My whole life I've dreamed of love, even when I didn't know what that meant. I think I've wanted it more than absolutely anything else. I've dreamed about beautiful weddings, first houses, and the pitter patter of tiny feet. The dream. I've dreamed about … the dream.

"Instead, I got a courthouse marriage, a loveless marriage, cheap airfare, health insurance, and a Get Out of Debt Free card. And if I sound ungrateful, I'm not. I'm really, really not. I'm truly sorry for the mess I've caused with your family and for acting so impulsive at Chan and Danielle's wedding. I'm not proud of what happened, and I would take it all back if I could. But I'm not upset that the truth is out. Even if I don't really know anymore what the truth is between us."

Still, nothing from her.

"I'm sure you're silently counting down the minutes until I'm gone." I quickly wipe away a tear.

This is a whole new level of ghosting. I've never had someone do it to me in person … while we're in the same room.

The muscles in her jaw flex, hard and unforgiving. There's an earthquake of tension rolling off her body, leaving a mark on my heart with aftershocks I will feel for a long time. She takes her plate and coffee mug to the sink, letting them drop in the basin with a crash as she drops her chin to her chest.

"I don't know when you think you fell in love with me, but I didn't suggest the marriage for any other reason than helping you. We crossed a line, and I thought I was in control. I thought I was prepared to deal with the ramifications of crossing that line, but I wasn't. I'm not. I'm …" She rubs her temples. "Fuck, I … I don't even know right now. This is on me, not you. I will deal with the mess. I didn't think our marriage would be anything more than a benefit to you."

Lisa lifts her head and cuts her gaze to mine, her face marred with so much agony. "The marriage …" She pauses, closing her eyes for a brief second. "It…" she shakes her head "…it was all so backward. You have been a true lifeline for me, and I think about you all the time. I also can't reconcile the marriage and the intimacy. You are so much more than a friend, and, by law, you are my wife. But in my head, and maybe even in my heart, you are not my wife. And I'm sorry if that hurts you. I fucked up. I've called you my wife more than once because I've been trying to make sense of what we have become. I've tried to see where we truly fit into each other's lives. And until I figure that out, I can't explain it to myself, least of all my family and friends. So if you needed me to be publicly accountable for our marital status, a heads-up would have been nice."

There are so many things I want to say to Lisa. I think I've always had so many things I've wanted to say to her. The timing is never right. My heart doesn't know how to be that brave. So I hold everything inside and let it fester until the pain is too much to bear. Maybe the words I'm getting ready to say are not the right ones; it's highly likely they're not, but they are the most honest ones.

"Labels shouldn't matter. Deep down, I know this. But sometimes a label feels like validation. Validation of one's feelings. Validation of one's intentions. I don't know how to love you and be married to you yet not be your wife. And that's just my truth right now."

Lisa takes her time, proving to be the patient woman I met the day she hired me. "Well …" She turns, crossing her arms over her chest. "I have a lot to figure out. We are on completely different paths in life, which makes it overwhelming to feel responsible for your future as well as mine. So after yesterday's events, I realize the only way I can be with you right now, is if I don't think of myself as your wife."

Ouch …

I will feel those words for a long time, maybe forever.

Much like last night, we have another stare down. I can't help but wonder if she's struggling to find words or if she's like me and struggling to find the right ones in a mess of a million desperate thoughts swirling in her head.

She seems to rest her case with an idle tongue.

And while I have so much fight left in me, the words my conscience keeps whispering are, "You don't know how to love her without losing a piece of yourself." That's my reality at this time in my life.

It's also hard not to think about JK and how he seemed to love me (I use that word lightly) for the person he knew I could be instead of the person I was at the time. If Lisa really does love me, what version does she love? Who I am or who I could be?

Love is not good at chasing expectations. It thrives on acceptance.

With a silent nod, I show my love for her, my acceptance of her and her feelings about me. And I rest my case too with an idle tongue.

"I'm going to pack."

"Where are you going?" I see the anguish in her eyes. It says everything. Why couldn't we have found each other at a different time, maybe in a different life?

"To New York. I booked the flight when I woke in the middle of the night. Jisoo could use a friend right now."

She nods slowly, and I head to my room.

I pack.

..

I sit in Rosé's chair with her quilt hugged to my chest.

I'm not sure where Lisa is right now. Maybe she left. I can't blame her. Goodbyes suck.

A little after one o'clock, I roll my suitcase to the door and get Harry Pawter in his carrier. Just as I bring up the app to order a ride, Lisa comes through the front door, pausing when she sees me and my stuff ready to go.

I offer her all I have which is a nervous, heartbreaking smile. "I was just ordering a ride."

"I'll take you."

"You don't have to."

She brushes past me to the kitchen, getting a glass of water. "I know I don't have to, but I want to."

I nod and swallow the building emotion in my throat as she gulps down the glass of water. When she sets the empty glass on the counter, her sad eyes meet my gaze.

An intense ache settles into my heart, a yearning for her to say something to make this okay—to make us okay. When she comes up empty, I let my gaze fall to the floor the way my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach with a slow, throbbing beat. Lisa grabs my suitcase and my carry-on bag and lugs them to her car.

"Let's go, Harry," I whisper as we follow Lisa.

When the silence hurts too much, I lean my head against the window and close my eyes. The hour drive to the terminal feels like ten hours. It's killing me to go. It would kill me to stay. There is no escaping the pain. I can only hope distance will be a salve. Work will be a distraction. And time will grant perspective.

Right now, I can't see anything through my blinding emotions.

When her car stops at the curb, neither one of us reaches for our door handle. I'm not ready to let go, but if I'm honest, I'll never be ready. Life doesn't care if we're ready. It marches on, demanding we keep pace or fall behind in a cloud of dust, suffocating in the past.

"I love you, Jennie."

Here they come … all the tears.

"I just…" she blows a breath out her nose "…love you."

I wipe my eyes and climb out of the car, frantically retrieving Harry from the back seat while Lisa takes her time unloading my suitcase and carry-on.

My chest feels completely crushed, stifled by … life.

Of course, she knows I'm crying, choking, clawing at my bags in a desperate attempt to get out of here, to find a breath again.

She is not my oxygen.

My heart will beat without her.

I let these words—this truth—loop in my head over and over again. It has to be my new mantra.

Maybe it's because I'm twenty-five.

Maybe it's because I'm a girl.

Maybe it's because I'm a romantic.

Whatever it is … it feels like she's a little hurt, maybe a little disappointed, and yes … a little in love with me. But it also feels like it's too easy for her to say goodbye.

I'm not dying (at least I hope today is not my day), so I don't expect her to mourn me leaving like she mourned losing Chaeng. However, a tear, a little red emotion in her eyes, a word or two breaking under the weight of that emotion—something, anything—would make me feel loved so much more than simply saying the words.

Stupid me. I really did think all I needed was to hear her say it. I was wrong. My heart can't hear. It can only feel.

"Text or call me when you land."

I nod, but I can't look at her.

She hugs me, but I can't hug her back. I'm afraid I would never let go.

She kisses me, but I can't kiss her back. I won't take what no longer feels like mine.

"Jen …" She holds my face and keeps us so close our noses touch.

There's a slight agony to her voice, and I inhale it, feeding it to my heart, recording it in my soul where we keep all the tiny moments in life from when we truly feel loved.

"Touch me." She grabs my hands and brings them to her face.

"I can't," I say through a strangled sob.

"Kiss me." She presses her lips to mine again. They're desperate and demanding. They're everything I need. Still … if I give in, I will never leave.

"I can't." I pull away.

Her shoulders sag inward. I hate that my need for self-preservation feels like rejection to her, but the cruelest thing we can give each other is false hope. It is a mirage, nothing but a slow death.

"I'll let you know when I land." I gather my things again and head toward the entrance without looking back.

..

..

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