The Long Way Home (6 page)

It was the opposite of every other garment I owned. It was a
freedom dress. I knew it when I saw it. It would be my morning-after married
dress for the gift opening. Later, I would wear it to garden parties. I love
the cut of it, and the fact I could be slightly risqué and free in it. It was
the small things I could still control when everything was planned out and
reigned in. I imagined I would be showing my shoulders midday while sipping
from a champagne glass, not alone on a beach in South Carolina with a bottle of
wine as my only friend.

I never saw any of it as the way my life would be.

Or the dog knocking me over, and yet, there he was. He dove
for the bag of popcorn and tore off with it. I screamed and laughed at the same
time. I got up and ran after my meal but hands grabbed my arm, “Are you
alright, ma’am?”

I looked up, scowling, “Do I look like a ma’am in this
dress?”

He laughed, “Oh
uhhh
, no?” He shook
his head, “No, you look beautiful in that dress.” He smiled at me.

I smiled back, “Thank you.”

“My dog, Jack—sorry about that.”

I pointed after the hound still running away, “Jack’s going
to get sick from that.”

He chuckled, running his hands through his dark hair, “No.
No, he won’t. He’s a
labradoodle
.”

I shook my head, “I don’t know what that means.”

He sighed, “It means he has the guts of a lab, the craziness
of a standard poodle, and he’s never been sick, no matter what he ate.”

He was an older man; I would bet he’d lived there for a
while. I pressed my lips together, “Do you know which house is Mike France’s?
He told me to meet him here and I wrote down the address wrong.”

He gave me a funny look and nodded, “Three up the beach.”

I smiled, “Thank you.” I bent forward, trying not to tip over
and filled my bags back up with all my stuff. Everything was sandy and heavy.

"Good evening," I waved.

He nodded, "You also."

The sand in my toes felt amazing as I stumbled up the beach
three houses and walked up to the huge glass doors.

There was a bunch of people inside the house, crowds of them.
I spotted France immediately. He was at the bar, dumping bags of chips into
bowls. The glass doors were open. Music was playing; it was the music I had
faintly heard when I was down the beach. I had thought it was the Tiki Hut
place. A couple of people slipped outside. A handsome but rugged man walked up
to me with a smile. He had tanned skin, sexy whiskey-colored eyes, and plump
lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I smiled back and dropped my bag behind the chair on
the deck, trying desperately to stay upright.

“You a friend of France’s?”

I nodded, “I am.”

“I’m Willy.” He put a huge hand out.

I took it and let him shake us both, “Nice to meet you. I’m
J.D.”

He nodded, “Sexy. I love girls with names like that. My first
love was a girl named A.J., she was hot.”

I laughed. He pointed back at the house, “You want a drink?”

“Yes, please.”

He hurried inside and grabbed a drink from the counter. It
looked like a slushy drink. He carried it outside. France's eyes followed him
out of the house to the deck. They met mine. He frowned, tilted his head and
then pointed at me, shouting,
“
You real?”

I laughed, “What?”

“You really here?”

Willy handed me my drink, “It’s frozen
margs
from the Tiki Hut. They made them for us.” He didn’t notice France coming out
of the house.
He stepped in front of Willy and lifted me up
into his arms
,
“You came?
How did you find it?”

I pointed down the beach, “An old man with a dog named Jack.”

“Brian. Yeah, he’s my neighbor.” He looked back at Willy,
“Dude, this one is off limits.”

My jaw dropped, “Actually, this one can say for herself and
since he bought me my first drink, I am obligated to drink it with him.” I
winked at Willy.

He stepped back, “It was nice meeting you, J.D.”

I gave France a look, “What was that?”

He put me down, “
You drunk?
”

I nodded, “I am.” I sipped the margarita and smiled, “This is
good.”

His dark eyes filled with worry, “Baby, you okay?”

I shook my
head,
“I can’t talk about
it right now.”

I watched his jaw set. He took my hand and pulled me inside to
the kitchen. He passed me a sandwich from a tray, “How did you end up here?”

I swallowed a huge bite, “My heart or my pride broke and I
went into survival mode, and all I could think of was finding you.”

He looked hurt, “Go lay down upstairs. I’ll be up in a bit,
okay?”

I nodded, “Okay.” I passed him my
marg
and pointed to the deck, “I need my clothes. There, in a bag behind a deck
chair.”

He waved me off, “I’ll get them. Just go lay down.”

I walked up the stairs, but like a kid who wanted to be part
of the party after bedtime, I stayed at the top of the stairs and watched them
have fun.

Seeing Mike France in action was amazing. He was funny and
loud, always laughing and having fun. He made a series of
filthy,
revenge-sex thoughts rattle their way through my addled brain. His shirt was
open, revealing a tight body with a tiny smattering of dark chest hair. He was
tall, hugely tall. I’d never considered myself short; I was average, 5’6, but
he was tall and thick. I had always liked that about him. He made me feel safe,
always. His dark hair was shaggy, like he was from Greenwich Village. The
playoff beard was the part I hated the most, and yet, I imagined how it would
feel on certain parts of my body.

I leaned against the railing and listened to the laughing and
joking. The guys all looked the same, hockey players and managers. The girls
didn’t look like spouses, more like puck fucks. Mini skirts and bathing suit
tops, bleach blonde hair, and tanned skin. I was like a sore thumb, even in my
freedom dress. It bummed me out that he was having a party like that, even
though that’s just who he was.

He was a player.

Willy spotted me and came up the stairs. He smiled and passed
me another
marg
, “Sent upstairs early?”

I shook my head, “No. This just isn’t my scene and he knows
it.”

He smiled, “It’s not a wife party, that’s for sure.”

“You married?”

He shook his head, “We don’t work the kind of job that is
conducive to having a wife and kids.”

“That’s pretty true.”

“I don’t want to get a divorce. My parents had one when I was
eleven and it was hard. I never want to put my kids through that. So I want to
wait a bit more before I settle down. I want my wife to be the sole focus in my
life. I know hockey isn’t forever and when I fall in love I want it to be
forever.” His whiskey eyes were killing me.

I sighed, “Wow, I wish I were marrying you instead.”

He laughed, “You married?” He glanced at my ring finger.

I nodded, “Not yet. I just threw my engagement ring in the
Atlantic though,
sooooo
maybe I’m not getting married
anymore.”

“Just phone him up and say I divorce you three times and it’s
done spiritually. No more engagement.”

I put a hand out, “You have a cell phone?”

He laughed and passed me his iPhone. I dialed home and waited
as it rang, plugging my other ear.

“Hello?”

“Phil?”

He sighed, “Oh, thank God. I was so worried. I called the
police. Are you okay?”

“I divorce you, I divorce you,
I
divorce you.” I didn’t even hesitate. I wanted the wedding off.

“Jacqueline, are you okay? What are you talking about? We
haven’t married yet, baby.”

I swallowed and felt the world moving slowly around me, like
I was the sun. “Please, I just saw you with Ashley and I saw you with Eleanor.
I know you don’t love me. Get my things ready. I’ll be home in a week or so and
I'm moving out.” I hung up the phone and passed it back, “I would turn that
off, if I were you. He’s going to call back.”

His eyes were wide, “Are you okay?”

I nodded, “I think so. I will be.” I watched as a blonde girl
stuck her hand in France's back pocket and grabbed his ass cheek.

Willy followed my gaze and cleared his throat, “
Wanna
take a walk on the beach?”

I gave him a grin, “Not if you think I’m doing anything
beyond walking and maybe throwing up.”

He nodded, “I think you’re safe. I’m sick right now for you.”

I linked my arm into his, “I like you, Willy. Not your name
though. May I call you Will? I have a couple friends I would love to introduce
you to and they would never stand for a Willy.”

He chuckled, “I get that weekly, the hook up and the name
change. My last name is Burettes, not easy like France.” I walked behind him,
holding his thick arm and followed him outside. We walked down the beach and
away from the house.

The fresh air made me feel much better. “It’s so hot here.”

He chuckled, “It’s so much nicer than New York. So, what does
J.D. stand for?”

“Jane Doe.”

He laughed, “Come on. What is it?”

I rolled my eyes and muttered, “Jacqueline Diana.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I’d go with J.D. too.”

I laughed, “My last name is Croix. My father has informed me
that when I get married to Phillip, I will be keeping my name. My name will be
Jacqueline Diana Croix-Bernard.”

He whistled, “Sounds fancy and French.” His southern drawl
mocked me, but I didn’t mind. “So how long have you been together?”

I thought for a minute, “Well, I met him when I was a
teenager and we dated for a few years. We broke up, and when I was twenty-five,
well, he proposed and my father said yes. So we have been engaged for three
years.”

He frowned, “Wow. You seem kind of young. Your dad said yes?
Didn’t you want to marry Phil? Why would your dad agree for you? Were you
planning on having kids?"

I shook my head laughing, “My father runs everything in my
house—people, money and business transactions. That includes marriages.
As far as kids go, Phil didn’t want them right away and then he wanted to make
sure we had a stable relationship. None of it made sense though. He was the one
who wanted the
hugely-long
engagement, even though I
was the one who didn’t want to get married. I assumed we would have them just
after we married since we’ve been together for so long now. But the other day,
he actually told me that couples that have kids in the first few years of
marriage have a better chance of divorce. Now I’m not sure I want them. I can't
see myself getting married at all now."

“Wow, all that and he has affairs. What a dick. Some people
don’t know what they have until it’s too late.”

I nodded and drank a huge gulp of my marg. The old man I had
met up with earlier walked past us, “Hey, did you find the party?”

I nodded, “I did. Thank you.”

He sat in the sand next to where we were standing, “I don’t
think I’ll ever catch that damned dog. He grabbed that bag of food from you and
he’s been crazy since.”

I flopped onto the sand next to Brian, the old man, “Sorry
about that.”

Will sat beside me, giving me a weird look, “You guys know
each other?”

I shook my head, passing him the huge glass of marg. “No.” I
looked at Brian, “I’m J.D.”

He smiled, “Brian.”

Will waved, “I’m Willy.”

I nudged Will, "He prefers to be called Will
though."

He blushed and looked down.

Jack came running over to me, tackling me into the sand
again. I managed to grab his collar but he dragged me a little bit.

Brian jumped up and grabbed his collar from me, “Ha, you
little bastard. Sorry about that J.D. He's a brat.”

I laughed and wiped the sand off my arm. I felt the petals on
my poor dress. They were intact.

“Well, I better get him home. Night you two.”

“Night.” We both waved him off.

Will nudged me, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I
would be dying right now.”

I smiled, “I don’t know. My heart hurts but I think my pride
hurts more.”

“Do you feel lost? You don’t seem like you’re very lost. I
think I would be lost.”

I shook my head, “I would have to say it’s quite the contrary
to lost.” I glanced at him, “I feel found, newly found and free.” I took the
glass back from him and had a huge gulp of it. It was melting fast. I sighed,
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but it was an arranged marriage or
sorts. Not a love marriage."