Husband Sit (Husband #1) (35 page)

“That’s
not good.” He squeezed my hands again. “But honesty is.”

“Even
if it hurts?”

He
tried to smile, but I could see it was hard. “I’ve got broad shoulders. I’m not
scared of some threshold pain if it gets us where we want to be.”

Now
who was the coward?

I
was terrified of loving Finn completely and then losing him, so terrified that
I couldn’t even contemplate looking at that sort of pain, let alone willingly
putting myself in the proximity of it. A sudden upwelling of admiration for him
swept over me, and I felt my lips trembling. I
so
much wanted to say
I
love you and that’s all that matters
but it wasn’t true. It wasn’t
practical.

Luckily,
before I could contemplate anything stupid, I heard Missy Lou clearing her
throat a distance away.

“I
have an announcement!” I turned to look at her and had to admit I felt
relieved. I was going around in circles with Finn—I love you, I want you, I
don’t trust you—with no clear path to resolution. Like Doug, I wanted closure
on ending our relationship, but damned Finn kept giving me reasons to want us
to work it out.

I
let go his hands and watched with growing alarm as Marcus made a beeline to
Missy Lou’s side near the bar. Ange stood a few paces away with a hand on her
chest, looking suddenly stricken, as if she was expecting Louella to reveal she
was pregnant. But that couldn’t be happening. Could it?

I
took a step away from Finn, toward Ange, at the same moment as Fritha linked
arms with Doug and pulled him out of the garden and onto the terrace to face
the ‘happy’ couple.

“Marcus
and I...” Louella raised her chin. “...have decided to divorce, and we wanted
to share the news with our closest friends first.”

Finn
came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders in what was clearly
intended as a gesture of comfort, but I barely felt them as icy shock ran
through me. I was staring at Missy Lou, who looked stone cold sober as she
said, “There is someone else on the horizon, and Marcus has asked that we end
things before infidelity could occur. I’m very grateful for that.”

My
gaze shot straight to Doug who—even at this distance—was clearly red-faced.

Fuck.

I
shook Finn off and marched straight over to him, disentangled him from Fritha
and wrenching him back into the darkness of the garden.

“You,”
I snapped, and spun him around to face me in the shadows. “What have you been
up to?”

“What?”
he spluttered, but I knew that drunken, sheepish look. I’d seen it enough in
our ten years together to know he was hiding something. Unlike Finn, Doug was
hopeless at concealing the truth.

“You
and Marcus,” I hissed, unaccountably furious, as if Doug was to blame for
Louella’s impending divorce, when it reality it was only a matter of time.
Unfortunately, my protective urges were in overdrive and I didn’t seem capable
of reining them in.

“What?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know anything about this. We only ever talked about
fishing.”

“Fishing?”

“He
kept talking about lures, or luring, or something. But I don’t...fly fish...”
Doug wavered then, and I grabbed his shoulders to hold him up, but it was no
use. He slumped against me.

“Fuck.”

He
had enough tension in his body to stop himself sliding to the ground, but it
took all my strength to stop him pushing us both over.

“Jilly,
Jilly,” he slurred against the shoulder of Missy Lou’s good gold gown, no doubt
spreading dribble everywhere, his arms limp at his sides.

“Jesus,
Doug.” I tried to push him upright, but was interrupted by Finn wrenching him
out of my hands.

“Wha.
What?” Doug flailed around ineffectually.

I
turned on Finn. “Let him go!” I wasn’t finished grilling him yet.

“So
you can snuggle up with him some more? Take
him
behind the hedge?” Finn
looked as though he wanted to fling Doug under a truck.

“Let
him go!” I didn’t have time for this, although I had to admit that Finn in
jealous-mode was impressive. His eyes were narrowed to slits and the difference
between his take-charge sexiness and Doug’s ineffectual flapping made the whole
question of
who would you bonk
a no brainer. But this wasn’t about my
libido. Missy Lou’s future happiness was at stake.

I
leant in close to Finn. “I don’t want to have sex with him. I want to talk to
him.”

“Then
keep your hands off him,” Finn hissed back.

Fritha
slid in beside me and said, “Ange is with Missy Lou getting drunk. Marcus is
hiding in the kitchen.” Then she noticed Finn’s rough grip on Doug’s shoulders
and said, “Don’t hurt him.”

Finn
glared back at her, which warmed my jealous heart. “Why does everyone protect
Doug?
”

“Because
he’s nice,” Fritha snapped.

Doug
chose that moment to raise his head and look at her blearily. “I’ve always
liked you, Angela. You’re sexible.”

I
wanted to slap him, but none of this was his fault, and I suddenly realized
there was no point in grilling him. He was such a babe in the woods he’d have
no clue what was going on. Plus, it was crystal clear that nothing had happened
between him and Marcus.

My
shoulders slumped. “Let him go, Finn. Fritha will look after him.”

Her
rainbow dress rustled as she stepped in, and Finn released Doug who promptly
slumped into her waiting arms—thin though they were. Somehow, she managed to
support him as she lowered him to the ground and crouched beside him.

Finn,
however, wasn’t done with the situation. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away,
down to the hedge I’d pointed out. His forcefulness was turning me on, but this
wasn’t the moment for indulging in pleasure. Not when my friend’s marriage was
collapsing.

I
was about to tell him off when he let me go. He was breathing heavily, as
though he’d just run a marathon, and he looked even more upset than he had when
he’d hauled Doug off me.

“This
has to stop,” he said, glaring at me, as if it was my fault that he was upset,
when I hadn’t asked him to come in the first place.

“Then
stop it,” I snapped. “Stop chasing me.”

“I
may as well.” He pointed back at the undignified puddle that Doug had become.
“You’re always going to trust him more than you trust me, aren’t you?”

“Of
course I am. He’s not a lying, cheating bastard.”

From
a distance I heard Fritha gasp, then silence settled over the shadowed garden
and my skin prickled with apprehension. I had no idea how those words had
escaped my mouth, but as Finn’s face lost all expression, I desperately wanted
them back. My empty future closed down around me like a suffocating blanket.

He
straightened, smoothed down the front of his suit jacket, glanced once at Doug,
then back to me, before saying with quiet dignity, “I have never once lied to
you. And neither have I cheated on you. Ever.
I
certainly don’t want to
be in a relationship with someone who makes me feel bad about myself,”
parroting my own words back at me, “So I won’t take up any more of your time.”
Then he walked away, and I heard him say, “Fritha,” as he passed her.

All
I could do was stare at the place that he’d been, at the empty place that no
one else could fill.

I
don’t know how long I stood there before Fritha slapped my arm, hard, and even
though that jarred, it was nothing compared with the wrenching that was
happening inside.

I’d
done it.

I’d
pushed Finn away.

Irrevocably.

My
stomach swirled sickly and my ears buzzed, as if I might faint.

But
Fritha was on a roll. “You are the most unforgiving, sanctimonious bitch—”

“Shut
up,” I said softly, but she ranted on for a full five minutes, throwing every
insult she could think of, and some I’d never heard before.

Finally,
the sound of Doug vomiting distracted her and she went back to his side. I
drifted into the house and found Ange and Missy Lou in their gorgeous gowns
sitting cross-legged on the lounge room floor, with several wine bottles
between them. Ange picked one up and swigged straight from the bottle.

“I’m
sorry,” I said to Louella, slumping onto the floor beside her. I knew I had to
focus on people who had bigger pain or I’d never get over my grief at losing
Finn. “When did you find out?” I grabbed a bottle and swigged from it. Port.
Ugh!

“Find
out what?” Missy Lou shot me a remarkably steady glance.

“About,
the relationship. The other...” I couldn’t say
man
because Ange might
not know Marcus was gay. I was just fumbling for the right term when Louella
laughed.

“If
I didn’t tell Marcus, I’m certainly not going to tell you who it is.”

I
blinked at her, flummoxed. Clearly, I didn’t have enough alcohol inside me yet
to follow this unfolding drama.

“...suffice
to say, it was a man I met some time ago and developed a fondness for. That’s
since blossomed into love. Marcus is sanguine about it and we shall remain
friends.”

 
I just kept blinking at her until Ange said, “Don’t judge her, Jill. It’s not
her fault she fell in love with someone else. At least she never cheated on
Marcus.” This last was said bitterly, and when Missy Lou patted her shoulder, I
realized Ange must have spilled the beans about Danny.

But
I was still back at, “I thought you said Marcus had found someone else.”

Missy
Lou raised one eyebrow—which Ange couldn’t see—warning me to shut the hell up.
“I’m the one who fell out of love,” she said evenly. “I know it’s poor form,
but I expect my friends to support me.”

“Of
course,” I rushed to say, thinking how clever she was coming up with that story
to hide Marcus’s sexual orientation. I also knew enough about Louella to
realize that Marcus’s gayness would be filed in the
never speak about it
again
basket.

So
be it.

“Okay,”
I said, and swapped my port bottle for a more sensible Sav Blanc. “And just so
you know the lay of the land, I’ve pissed Finn off. I mean, totally. He won’t
be back.”

Ange
frowned in sympathy but Louella merely said, “It’s probably as well. He didn’t
bring out your best.”

“No
he didn’t.” There was no arguing with that. Only, I couldn’t help remembering
how my body had burned under his touch, or how much fun we’d had together when
we hadn’t been fighting about my baggage and his past.

If
only there was a way to go back in time! What I wouldn’t give to start over
with a clean slate—just the two of us, ten years ago.

But
that wasn’t real. That was like Fritha’s interminable wish-making fantasies
where you listed every good thing you wanted, then got drunk because you knew
you’d never have them.

What
was
real sat in front of me: two women I loved more than life itself,
with the third—who I could happily up-slap—outside cleaning up more of my
baggage. That was love I could count on. Unconditional. Cranky at times, soppy
at others. But always there.

On
impulse, I leant over and hugged Ange who smelt of patchouli and sandalwood
shampoo. She patted my shoulder. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “We’ll all be
fine.”

“I
know.” She was right, but for some reason the hollow emptiness inside me
expanded, and I started to cry because of the whole mess of Finn and Brittany
and me keeping secrets from them. Before I could stop myself, tears turned into
sobs and neither of them could settle me down.

The
sobs turned into wailing, and when Fritha loomed close and said, “I’m sorry, J.
I know you miss him.” I just wailed harder. In the end, Marcus carried me up to
the guest bed and I sobbed myself into exhaustion, falling asleep with the gown
on and makeup smeared all over my pillow.

I
wasn’t a pretty sight in the morning, but I wasn’t hung-over, so I had no
excuse for my ‘display’ as I knew Missy Lou would call it. I showered and
dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt before descending to the kitchen where I
found all three of them seated around the table, still wearing their evening
attire, as though none of them had slept.

“Jinx,”
Ange said, and patted the chair beside her.

I
slunk into it, poked my tongue out at Frith before turning my attention onto
Missy Lou, girding myself for a tongue-lashing.

She
only said, “Coffee?”

I
shook my head.

There
was uncharacteristic silence before Fritha said, “I told them about the wookie
thing,” and looked at me pointedly.

Crap.

I
sucked in a steadying breath. Clearly, it was my turn to unburden, and I knew
if I didn’t do it, Fritha would do it for me. I hadn’t prepared myself for it,
but it was a good distraction from thinking about Finn which I hoped never to
do again, or at least not as dramatically as I had last night.

There
was nothing for it. I had to blurt. “I’ve been fucking men for money.”

I
was watching Missy Lou as I said it, and saw the slight widening of her eyes.
So Fritha hadn’t blabbed.

“Not
only that,” I said, and Missy Lou raised an eyebrow that clearly said
what
could be worse than prostitution?
“It was wives paying me to fuck their
husbands.”

“Sweet
Shiva!” That was Ange, who had a hand near her throat. “Jill...” She shook her
head, clearly aghast.

I’d
done some stupid shit in my life, but I could see them reassessing me,
realizing they had no clue what I was capable of.

Louella
looked from me to Ange and back, with speculation in her gaze, and I felt my
stomach plummet. Exactly as I’d expected, the wives among us suspected the
worst.

Fritha
jumped to the gap. “All the husbands were cheating bastards anyway. Jill made
sure of that. She was just to keep them home while their wives were away. On
holiday.”

Bless
her, she didn’t realize that she was playing to Louella’s suspicions. Donny was
a cheating bastard. But before I could defend myself, Ange put a hand on my
arm.

“Is
that how you met Finn? Is that why you won’t be with him. Because he’s a
cheating bastard?” So she clearly didn’t imagine I’d trespassed on our
friendship.
That
was a relief.

Unfortunately,
Frith jumped in again. “He’s not a cheating bastard. He’s a keeper.”

“But
you said...” Ange looked from one to the other of us.

I
cleared my throat, wishing I’d accepted the coffee now. An Irish coffee
preferably. “Finn was my first...husband sit. His wife was the one cheating,
and she wanted him to cheat as well, so she wasn’t the only one feeling
guilty.”

Louella
cut in. “And now his marriage is over.”

The
inference being, that I was a marriage wrecker. Which, admittedly, was true.

“That’s
the only one,” I said quickly. “All the rest are still together.”
I assumed
.
I mean, how would I know? It’s not like I kept in touch.

“How
many?” Ange asked. “How many husbands?”

I
stared at her blankly, wondering why I didn’t have that fact at the front of my
mind. I clearly wasn’t a
notch on the bed
kind of girl. So all I could
manage was a lame, “I think four? Five?”

“But
you don’t know for sure.” This seemed to appall her even more than the job
description had.

Then
Louella said, “This is how you had the cash to finance Fritha’s shop.”

A
beat of silence passed as they all stared at me and I knew there was no getting
out of it. So I said, “Yes it was.” And I wanted to add,
most of us don’t
marry a millionaire
, but Louella wouldn’t see the difference in our
financial backgrounds as relevant. She didn’t do shades of grey. She’d come
from old money and strict morals. Her boundaries were black and white. In her
eyes, I’d done a bad thing, and no amount of desperation for money would excuse
it.

There
was no point in trespassing on my promise to Brittany. It wouldn’t win me any
prizes for virtue, and it would only erode my crappy relationship with my
sister even further when she found out I’d blabbed, as inevitably she would. So
I kept that to myself.

Ten
long seconds of silence ticked over before I said, “Okay,” and pushed back my
chair. I stood, my heart pounding and my eyes hot. “I realize this is too much
for you guys to grasp.” Dammit, my voice was shaking. “And I’m not going to sit
here and defend myself. Yes, I did a crazy thing for two months. It was stupid,
but the only person who got hurt was me. Finn told me his marriage was over
before I met him.”

“I
knew about it,” Fritha blurted. “Jill told me everything along the way. She was
saving for a house. She’s not a bad person.” She looked up at me with her
earnest blue eyes and her crazy freckles and I felt a tiny burst of happiness
break through my rock wall of gloom.

“Thanks,
F.”

She
jumped up and buried me in her spindly hug, and I mouthed
I’m sorry
to
Louella and Ange who simply sat staring at me. Then I left. I went upstairs and
packed. Fritha trailed me to the front door, telling me things would be okay,
but the fact that Missy Lou and Angel weren’t there to say goodbye spoke
volumes.

Fritha
shook my handbag on my shoulder. “Put the volume on your phone. I’ll ring you
tonight.”

“Okay.”
I kissed her cheek and left, driving away from Rose Bay with no clue about
where I was going.

Somehow,
the car knew. It took me out of Sydney and onto the highway heading north. I
drove through the day, stopping for petrol and coffee but had no stomach for
food. By nightfall I was back at Surfers Paradise where the whole thing had
started, and it seemed fitting to drive up Finn’s street and park in the
shadows under a tree across the wide road.

I
watched his house. I have no idea why. I knew he wouldn’t be living there, but
my curiosity was rewarded several hours later when Katinka and a young redhead
drove out of the garage in Kat’s white Merc convertible. The girl was driving
and Katinka had an arm across her shoulders, fiddling with her hair as they
laughed at something.

I
watched them drive off, waiting to see if the cold, hollow feeling inside me
would shift. But no. Nothing. I could see that my impact on Katinka’s life
didn’t appear to be negative. She had her girlfriend, and for all I knew, Finn
was paying their bills. He didn’t seem the sort to abandon her, even though he
was disappointed with their relationship.

He
was a good guy. Intellectually I knew that. But there was no point in even
apologizing, because it wouldn’t change anything. So maybe I was at the point
in my life where I should realize that happily-ever-after was unachievable for
me.

I
knew that the rift between myself and the girls would blow over, and I could
rely on them for affection and unconditional love. But to never have
children...

That
was a biggie.

Seeing
Ange’s anguish had kick-started my biological clock, and the thought of Lizzie
having Finn’s baby had put the idea in my mind. Now I wanted a baby. I also
wanted Finn but I didn’t want his baggage. I wasn’t sure how to fix any of
this, but in the middle of all the angst I was feeling, came an impulse to go
home. To the only real home I’d ever known.

Dakaroo.

When
I was eighteen, Brittany and I left town to further our educations. I’d gone to
college in Brisbane—six hours away by car. Brittany had gone to boarding school
for junior high at nearby Toowoomba. Neither of us gone back, not even when
Gran died. Fritha attended the school reunions but I’d been scathing of them,
thinking myself
better
than my stay-at-home schoolmates in their
‘backwater’ town.

Well,
that time was over.

I
clearly wasn’t
better
than any of them, let alone all of them. And I
hurt so much over Finn, going home didn’t frighten me. Whatever ‘the worst’
might be, it couldn’t complete with the empty ache inside me.

So
I turned the car around, got coffee and muffins at McDonalds, and headed west,
into the outback. I forced myself to eat, to stay awake, and by four am I was
pulling into the carpark of the all-night fuel station on the outskirts of
Dakaroo. Garish overhead lights illuminated the ghost gums in the surrounding
bushland, and after almost two decades away, it seemed familiar but also
hauntingly exotic. By some weird quirk of fate—or maybe the serendipity of
small towns—the attendant behind the counter was the mother of an old school
friend.