The Regrettable Mistake Novel – I swiped the picture, and there was my husband’s ex-wife, the same woman who abandoned him and his son all those years ago, popped up on her tiptoes as their lips came together in a smooch. I flicked the screen, and another picture showed up. The two of them appeared to be headed into a hotel together. Another swipe, and they were coming back out, both sporting wet hair. More swiping. More pictures. Different locations. Same woman. I could tell the pictures were going backward in time. I wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. My husband didn’t look the slightest bit guilty to be smooching a woman who was not his wife in all those pictures.
Steph FOUR YEARS LATER I staredat our wedding photo, willing it to divulge my husband’s secrets to me. Did he really love me that day or was our marriage one of convenience? If so, it would have been a convenience for him alone, since no one ever filled me in on the plan. We appeared to be happy and in love in the photo. His smile was just as bright as my own. Our arms wrapped around one another just moments before our lips met as we shared that first smooch as a married couple. I chose that particular photo to frame because of the promise it held. The vows were still fresh, the deal not yet sealed, but you could see the hope of a wonderful future staring back at each of those two people from the other’s eyes. That’s what I’d always seen when I stared at the picture. Now, I searched it for any detail that might prove my initial assessment was complete nonsense. My brother claimed the signs were always there. He thinks I was just too lust-drunk to notice the cold detachment my man offered me or the way Ollie used to leave me at my doorstep, like he was happy to relinquish the burden back when we dated. I thought it was just him being reserved. He was a single father and successful businessman.
Ollie was five years older than me, but the gap in our experience levels when we first started dating felt more infinite. He was older, wiser, more experienced, and already a single dad. I was the fresh-faced girl about to graduate with a degree in early childhood education. In retrospect, our first date hadn’t really gone that well. It honestly felt more like a job interview right up until I told him what my degree was and that I would graduate in just a few weeks. That was the tipping point in our first date where his demeanor changed from cursory curiosity to one of interest. At first, Ollie explained that he was concerned for his son who was home sick. Later, during our second date, he explained he had dated before but so many women were just after him for his money that he was honestly a little gun shy. It was supposedly my raw enthusiasm as I talked about working with young children that made him change his mind about me. It wasn’t like I would get some big payout if I had been a gold digger in disguise.
Before we married, I’d been made to sign a prenup stating that I would basically get nothing if we divorced before the fifteenth year of marriage. It hadn’t been lost on my brother that Ollie’s son, Den would be an adult and off to college or starting a career by the time the fifteen year mark rolled around. I had been in love by then and wouldn’t hear of any duplicity on Ollie’s part. Now, I wondered. The cracks in our foundation had always been there and my naivety had blinded me to them “Momma Steph?” Den, Ollie’s now eight-year-old son, called out to me. He’d been in my life, practically attached at my hip, since I started dating his dad four years ago. Ollie and I had been married for a little over three years, but he had moved me in with them just four months after we started dating. As a result, Denmark had gotten used to calling me Momma Steph.
I didn’t mind, and his biological mother had never come around to make a stink about it. “What’s going on Denny-boy?” He rolled his eyes, as he usually did when I called him that, but he still wasn’t able to hold back the grin that sprouted on his face when he heard it. “I’m getting hungry, do we have to keep waiting for Dad? What if he doesn’t come again?” “No, baby. I’ll fix you something.” I turned and moved to the kitchen to go make Den a plate. I swore I’d only give Ollie an hour today, and I meant it. Next time, it would be thirty minutes grace. Then, we would simply stop waiting for him to show up for dinner with us. “Why hasn’t dad been home?” I wish I knew the answer to that question. The only reason I hadn’t panicked and reached out to the police was because his assistant informed me he was simply bogged down in meetings and would get in touch as soon as it was possible.
I didn’t believe that for a minute. There were no meetings that lasted a solid 72-hours, which was what we were going on at that point. Not to mention, he obviously had time to speak to his assistant, just not his wife. “He’s been very busy at work, honey.” “Dad’s never too busy for me.” Den’s insistence of that fact was true enough. Normally, Ollie would at least call and say good night to his son on the rare occasions when he had to go on an out-of-town trip. Though, those rare occasions had turned into more of an all-the-time thing these past few months. “I think maybe his work is extra hard this time, Denny-Boy. You know your father loves you, no matter what.” “I know. I miss him, though,” he pouted. It broke my heart to see that lip poke out and little tears form in his eyes. He was at an age where he was trying to be ‘a man’ and not show emotion too much. I rolled my eyes at the thought, but it made his father proud of him. “Eat up and then I’ll let you play an hour of Minecraft.” “A whole hour?” Den’s eyes grew comically wide. Ollie wasn’t a fan of the game and didn’t like for his son to play it too much, as he deemed it was a waste.
Once in a while, I had to remind the man that his son was still a child and needed creative play time, not just organized sports, as an outlet. “I promise.” “What if Dad comes home?” “I’ll handle him,” I offered with a wink that made the little boy smile as he tucked into his soup and sandwich. I had planned to make a full meal again tonight, but when I didn’t hear from my husband, everything remained in limbo. Dinner. My marriage. Our family and the future I once thought we would have together. It was all just sitting on the sidelines waiting for him to notice that there wasn’t much left to salvage. – Ollie “What are you waiting for?” Julianna held out her hand and smiled back at me over her shoulder. Her silky, black hair that held the slightest hint of blue in the tresses, swished around her shoulders with the movement.
Those unreal, azure eyes of hers sparkled like jewels as she teased me with that look that made her puffy lips tip up ever so slightly at the corner. Even with the new addition of the scars on her face, she was still one of the most physically beautiful woman I’d ever seen. There was really only one woman who outdid her and I happened to be married to that one. The accident that earned Julia those scars was the only reason she had come back into my life. It wasn’t for me. It certainly wasn’t for our son. Still, I couldn’t shake the wild feeling of anticipation every time she was around. That was how it had been at first. She had spent the past three months trying to convince me to give her the money to fix her face.
There was a plastic surgeon who could do it, but the procedures involved were costly and Julianna, despite the claims her ego made before she left town, had not become the A-list actress she expected to when she ran away from her family to chase her dream. “Jules,” I called to her. “Don’t Jules me!” She huffed when it became obvious I didn’t want to play along with her latest game. A sour expression quickly replaced the elated one she wore just moments ago. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s Jia now. Gee-ah!” She over-annunciated it, as if that would help me learn how to say her stage name. Then, she glanced around, as if someone might be listening in and moved closer to whisper. “I need you to use the right name, so if we’re spotted, they know who to report on.” That made me cringe. “We better not be spotted, Jules.” I refused to use her stupid stage name.
“I’m supposed to be in Vancouver on business, not in Vegas to consult with a plastic surgeon with my ex-girlfriend.” “So.” She huffed again. “Who is going to care? Why are you lying anyway?” “Um, my wife would definitely care,” I managed to choke out. “Wife, pfft,” she spluttered. “You mean the glorified nanny you conned into taking care of your kid?” “Our kid. Our son, Jules.” She rolled her eyes at me and that sick feeling that I had well and truly ruined my life all to come clawing back into the pit of my stomach where the nausea built. I knew Jules’ game now. The woman I’d always loved and placed on a pedestal – even after she left me to raise our son alone while she chased her dream – had made certain to screw me over to the best of her ability. Now, I was nothing more than her lapdog doing her bidding and this latest three-day venture to Vegas was just another yank on my very short leash. I’d messed up.