And now this.
He turned her to face him. “But it was a crush on her professional reputation. It wasn’t until after she’d tried to kiss me that I looked at her with any sexual curiosity. For a moment I imagined myself living a different life. But it was only a moment, Kayla.”
The kids re-appeared from the maze. She turned toward them, breaking his hold.
“Mommy, can we choose a tree now?”
“Sure.” She picked up her excited baby and pressed her cheek to his, needing the contact. “Lead the way.”
Maddie ran ahead and Rocco squirmed for freedom. “No, sweetie, we might lose you.”
“Here.” Taking their son, Jared swung him onto his shoulders. Rocco gripped his father’s dark hair with tiny fists and chortled in delight. It hurt Kayla to look at them.
“We have to touch every tree,” Maddie yelled over her shoulder. She was running down a row of eight-footers, Alice lost in Wonderland.
“Don’t get lost,” Jared called. His free hand caught Kayla’s and put it in his pocket, his own holding tight. “Please, don’t shut me down.”
“I could see the music geek in you was impressed.” With an effort, she kept her tone conversational. Inside, she was terrified she’d never look at a Christmas tree again without feeling sick. “Simone could talk so knowledgeably about music. And of course,” she added casually, as if it was the first time she’d thought about it, “she’s a striking woman.”
“Who thinks it’s okay to hit on a man waiting for his wife.” He stopped. “Never once did I encourage her to think I was interested, Kayla.”
“I believe you.” Rocco’s hat was coming down over his eyes. Releasing her hand from Jared’s grip, she straightened it and stepped away. “You, wondering what it would be like to sleep with her, that didn’t scare me. You, dismissing my earlier warning that she was interested in sleeping with you? That still scares me.”
It was easier to talk looking at the trees instead of each other, following Maddie’s excited cries, their boots releasing the scent of crushed pine needles. “Why did you refuse to see it? You used to trust my instincts.”
“I didn’t want to doubt her motives when she was telling me I could be the next John Entwhistle.” His jaw tightened. “I was a gullible idiot.”
“Simone wouldn’t undermine her professional credibility for an affair. You’ll be another Entwhistle.” Kayla managed a small smile. “Whoever the hell he is.”
Jared focused on her smile like a drowning man sighting a lifeboat. “Bassist with The Who.”
“This one!” Maddie stopped at a display of artificial trees flocked in a rainbow of colors. Kayla moved her away from the black one.
“You can’t be a Goth until you’re a teenager. And we’re getting real.”
They wandered through the lot inspecting the different species on offer. Jared showed Maddie how to roll the needles between her fingers to release the different scents, the citrus fragrance of the white fir, the pine scent of the Douglas fir. Her presence kept conversation general, but occasionally Kayla felt Jared’s gaze, the brush of anxious care. Are we okay?
How did she feel about his confession? Better, she decided after delicately prodding around the edges of the hurt. No longer paralyzed. This wasn’t a man awakening to the sexual possibilities of other women, the beginning of a pattern leading inexorably to infidelity. It was a one-off, a geek’s music crush.
If Simone hadn’t been so hell bent on screwing her husband, Kayla would never have been jealous of their friendship. The Frenchwoman was a homewrecker, willful and selfish. And her frequent hints that Kayla wasn’t woman enough to hold Jared had found fertile ground when Kayla was already feeling insecure—the starter wife—and ignored by her husband.
Some of that Jared could fix and taking responsibility helped. Rebuilding trust would take a little longer. She was wary now of being hurt, wary of giving as freely as she once had.
Some of it, Kayla had to fix. The inner monologue was hers. I’m not pretty enough, skinny enough, interesting enough. As long as Jared was in rock ‘n’ roll, there would always be brazen women wanting her husband. She had to find a way to deal with that. And find a way to regain her sexual mojo.
They chose a six-foot noble fir, silvery green with short, sturdy branches that would make it easy for small hands to hang ornaments. The tree guy, a chatty dude dressed in shorts, puffer jacket and a beanie gave the branches a trim and attached the stand. Leaving Jared to lift it onto the roof-racks, Kayla re-settled the kids in the car, and then lent her husband a hand tying it down.
As they were wiping tree resin off their fingers with tissues before touching the car doors, she said offhandedly, “Is it difficult? Turning down all the opportunities?”
“Is it hard for you?” he challenged.
“Yeah, men are really lining up.”