“That you didn’t cheat,” I clarified. “My ex cheated on me. In the five minutes I’ve known you, I already sense that’s not you.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. A frown marred her face, and she pressed her hand to her chest as if the pain of hearing what David and Danielle had done was physical.
I flashed her a cheeky smile, butterflies taking flight in my belly when I thought about Jacques. “I’m not. I now have a hot young husband.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she giggled. “Speaking of the hot young husband, how did you two meet?”
The breeze died off and I fanned myself, trying to cool down. “Jacques used to live in Australia with his parents when he was about ten or twelve.”
She smiled in surprise. “I had no idea.”
Heat crawled up my cheeks, and I fanned myself again. “Well, up until the day after our wedding, I used to call his mum my best friend.”
She squeezed my hand and I continued, needing to share our story too.
“I’ve known Jacques since he was a preteen. Our families used to holiday together. I’ve kept in touch with Sophia, his mum, since they moved to the States for Jacques’s hockey, but I’d lost contact with Jacques. Then when he visited Australia for the showcase, we caught up and hit it off straight away. I’d just separated from my husband, and….”
“And you followed your heart here,” she finished for me. “That’s so incredibly romantic.”
“Yeah.” I smiled, not correcting the slight factual inaccuracy in the story—the one where I was originally staying with his mum. Then went on a trip to Vegas, got blind drunk, and married my best friend’s son. Oh, and had a threesome that night and now a foursome with his “roommates,” who were actually his partners. You know… minor details.
“I was kind of hoping you’d gotten drunk-married and would end up divorced twenty-four hours later.”
I choked on my own breath and coughed until Kamirah patted my back. She passed me the bottle sitting between us, and I sipped the water.
When I could breathe again, Kamirah added, “Sorry, it’s just that it would have redirected some of the heat off us, that’s all.”
“I get it.” I coughed again and took another sip of water. “Is the press still talking about it?”
“Only when we’re out in public. They see us together and wonder why we haven’t separated. Then they see us apart and speculate that we’ve split. I feel like we deserve the criticism, karma coming back to bite us. But it’s exhausting.”
“I can imagine. Especially when you haven’t really done anything wrong.”
“Except the way we kept our mouths shut and let Hux take the fall,” she said bitterly. “Chris has a good reason to stay quiet. You probably can’t fathom what that would be, but he really does, and I wouldn’t break his confidence. I hate that we hurt Hux, but this time, Chris needed to come first.”
“Fair enough,” I said tentatively. “I may be overstepping, so tell me to get stuffed if I am, but you have needs too. Chris may have needed to come first then, but you look like you’re struggling with the fallout.”
Kamirah groaned and rubbed her forehead. “I am,” she admitted. “I love my husband, I really do, but I hate that he’s put me in this position. I hate that he can’t see a way out of it, and I hate even more that I have to stand by and watch it all without being able to defend myself.”
“Is it affecting your marriage?”
She nodded, and my heart broke for her.
“Do you want to save it?” I asked.
Kamirah snapped her gaze to mine, her blue eyes aflame. “You’d better believe I do.”
“Then work on it,” I counselled. I thought about how Sophia and Pierre hated that Jacques and I were married. They felt like I’d betrayed them, and I understood it even if I hated it. But if the situation were reversed, if it were Pierre with Cara, I’d be furious too.
“Emotions don’t need to be logical. They don’t need to make sense. What we feel is what we feel. If you’re struggling and angry, that’s valid. Chris needed your support when TMZ broke the story. Now, maybe, you need his.”
She blinked, then touched her fingertip to the corner of her eye, wiping away a tear. “I don’t want to leave him. I love him. But it feels like there’s this simmering anger between us that’s growing every day. I miss the way we were.”
“Have you tried counselling?” I asked gently.
“Yeah, but we didn’t gel with the counsellor, and Chris walked out. He refuses to go to anyone else.”
“Maybe some time away might help. A change of scenery, perhaps? Pick somewhere that has no mobile service and do things together—talk, reconnect.”
