Wynn - Breathe: A Love’s Complicated Novel

Cover: The Coverist by Ande

Photography: Adobe Stock

www.holliswynn.com

B ri, Im walking into the house. Ive got to get going so I have everything done before Jake gets home, I say unlocking the door to the apartment.

Have fun and lets catch up next week, she says before hanging up.

Today is Jakes birthday and Im coming home early to surprise him. All the ingredients for his favorite dinnersteak, twice baked potatoes and broccoli casserolealong with everything to make a German chocolate cake are in the bags I carry. I am determined to make it a night to remember. He doesnt know that I took off early to shop and get ready for tonight, but I still open the door to our apartment and yell for him.

Jake? Baby, are you home? No response. I drop my shoes by the front door temporarily. Ill put them away before he gets home tonight because Jake hates when anything is out of place. I head into the kitchen with the shopping bags and set them on the counter.

What is that noise? I ask myself. It sounds like the shower is running.

I pad to the back of the apartment toward our bedroom. The closer I get, the louder the noise is. I guess he is home, I think to myself.

The door to our bedroom is partially open and I see a pair of heels that arent mine sitting on the floor at the end of the bed. What on earth? I push the door open and walk straight to the bathroom. The door is closed but I try the knob anyway. Its unlocked so I walk in.

I mean its my house, why wouldnt I?

The bathroom is so full of steam that I cant see my reflection in the mirror, but I can see the outline of a body in the shower. Based on the heels on the floor and the hips, Im quite sure its a woman, I just dont know who she is. So, I sit on top of the counter and try to keep my panic at bay while I wait for her to come out.

When she opens the door a couple of minutes later, Im staring straight at her and she screams bloody murder.

What the hell are you doing in my bathroom? she says.

My panic is obvious as is hers. She attempts to cover herself with her hands, all while her eyes are open so wide, I anticipate theyll fall out of her head if she moves it.

You mean my bathroom? I state sarcastically.

No, I mean my fiancs bathroom. Shes standing in the buff staring expectantly at me.

You must be in the wrong apartment, I say loudly. Id suggest that you pack your shit and get the hell out of here.

The look on her face has me vacillating between confusion and anger. Who the hell does this chick think she is? Her fiancs apartment?

By this point, shes grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body. Im in the right place. Im sure of it.

How can you be so sure? Maybe the doorman let you into the wrong place. Im grasping at straws here because my gut is churning and Im pretty sure there is something fishy going on here. I just cant put my finger on it.

Oh no, this is Jake Adamss apartment. The guy in the photo in the bedroom? Yep, hes my fianc.

Thats when I flip. My heart starts beating a million miles an hour and Im shaking uncontrollably.

Get the hell out of here. You may think youre Jakes fianc, but youre not. I am. Were getting married. Weve already put a deposit down on a reception location and have the date. I realize my hands are flying all over the place and I twine my fingers together in an attempt to look more calm than I feel.

Remove yourself from the premises immediately or Im going to call the police, I say and walk past her, bumping my shoulder into hers. Ill be in the kitchen. You have five minutes to dress, pack your things, and get out of here.

I turn and storm out of the bedroom and walk into the kitchen. The need to keep my hands busy is overwhelming, I dont want to lose my shit. Then I spy a bottle of whiskey on the other side of the counter. I am heavy handed with pouring the amber liquid into a tumbler. I stare down at the glass as if its going to provide some divine intervention, though I know thats ludicrous. One long pull and Im sputtering and coughing in front of the counter.

I think we need to talk, she says, as she walks into the kitchen. Shes not dressed to leave but is wearing one of Jakes button-down shirts and not much else. The audacity of this woman.

No, I dont think so. I cant imagine you will can anything that will make any sense at this point. I shake my head and take another sip of the whiskey.

Just hear me out. Please.

I dont look up at her, but I can tell shes moving around. A minute or so later, she has a cup of water in front of her and is sitting down at the end of the table. Shes been here before, thats obvious.

Fine. But talk fast.

Its then I realize how beautiful she is. She has long, curly, blond hair and the brightest green eyes. Her skin is glowing. Interestingly enough, she seems fairly calm. Like this isnt a shock to her. I turn around to face the table and lean my hip against the counter, holding my whiskey like its going to keep me from drowning.

Love is complicated, especially when youre the other womanlike I am. Meeting Jake was something I never expected. He came into my life at a time when I craved male attention and he gave it to me. I knew that he was with someone, but when you love someone... She trails off and I stare at her. What kind of woman agrees to be the other woman?

He loves you, she says. He told me he does. He also said that youre good for his image. Youre smart and classy. You look good on his arm and his parents adore you.

My head starts to pound and Im vacillating between wanting to strangle her for being so blas about this and wanting to slap him. Anger is coursing through my veins like a cross country runner whos close to the finish line.

I just stare at her. If he loved me he wouldnt be having a relationship with her.

Jake told me that his parents want him to marry someone who will be good for the image of the company, and you fit that bill. Me, Im just a nobody whos trying to make her life better. She shrugs her shoulders at me and looks into her water. Hes not a bad guy, she says. Jake just wants to be with someone who give him all the things you do not.

A marriage is between two people, not between two people and a mistress who keeps the husband happy when times get hard, I spit out at her. My anger grows by the minutethough Im not sure who Im mad at her, him or myself.

I gave him my heart, my souleverything. What could he be missing that he didnt get from me? The question is part rhetorical and part curiosity. I really dont know what were missing.

Then she says it. The thing many women fear.

He says that sex with you is just okay.

Are you shitting me? I gasp. He really said that about me? About us?

Its then that she makes eye contact with me and I realize that everything shes said is trueat least the version of the truth Jake has told her. I can see into the depths of her eyes that she really loves him and hes convinced her all this is okay.

Keep going, I say. This is just getting goodor baddepending how you look at it.