Chapter 54

Teresa’s phone buzzed in her pocket, and she answered with a hint of reluctance. “Hello?” she said.

“Is this Ms. Teresa Johnston?” a voice on the other end inquired. “We’re from Rosary Night. Your husband’s had a bit too much to drink, and we were hoping you could come get him?”

Teresa’s lips pressed together. Rosary Night was a place Teresa knew well. She used to be a regular there for its drinks before she got married, especially fond of the red cocktails that suited her taste. She hadn’t been back since saying “I do.”

Soon, with her car parked out front, Teresa walked into the bar, keys jingling in her hand. She was surrounded by the eclectic lights, the cacophony of noise, and flickering shadows on the floor, like dancing circles of light.

Jonathan was slumped on a couch, his head hung low, two buttons of his shirt undone, and his cashmere coat tossed aside.

As Teresa approached, he caught her familiar scent and looked up sharply. His eyes were clouded with guilt as he said apologetically, “I’m sorry, honey. I’ve had too much to drink, and I’ve gone and troubled you to come get me.”

Teresa remained silent, studying him for a few seconds to confirm his drunken state. Once sure, she couldn’t help but say, “You’re so embarrassing. Let’s go.”

But Jonathan didn’t budge. Teresa glanced back at him and sighed, moving to help him up.

He leaned into her contentedly, his eyes slightly red as he said, “You haven’t wished me a happy birthday yet.”

The onlookers around them were puzzled.

Teresa removed her hat and placed it on his head. “Let’s go,” she repeated.

Jonathan was insistent, staring at Teresa with bloodshot eyes. “You haven’t wished me a happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” Teresa said, her eyes rolling.

Only after hearing those words did he seem satisfied, slumping against her.

Feeling his weight, Teresa summoned all her strength, and with the bartender’s help, she managed to get the six-foot-two-inch man into the car.

The brief stroll had her breaking a sweat, and in the backseat, Jonathan, with his eyes shut and brow furrowed, appeared to be bearing a weight that just wouldn’t budge.

She turned to the bartender and said, “Thank you for your help. My husband’s been a real pain in the neck for you?”

The bartender replied politely, “It’s nothing. We’re here to help.”

With that, Teresa drove the car away with Jonathan.

“Where do you live?” Teresa asked, glancing back at the inebriated Jonathan. “I’m talking to you.”

“Luviston Estates,” Jonathan slurred.

Teresa paused, looking at the man in the rearview mirror. “Our old marital home? I thought it was sold?”

“Didn’t sell… couldn’t part with it,” Jonathan mumbled.

Teresa pressed her lips together, her grip on the steering wheel tightening. She couldn’t take him back to Rosary Estates; she had to go to Luviston Estates.

The house from their marriage was filled with memories, a place she hadn’t been in over two years.

“Password, to open the door,” Teresa said.

“Your birthday,” Jonathan said, his words slurred.

Teresa’s heart raced with a mix of emotions. This house wasn’t a place she let herself think about often. The moment she opened the door, and that familiar scent washed over her, it was like a dam bursting, releasing a flood of memories.

The bedroom was the same, and she helped him onto the bed. Looking up, she saw their wedding photo on the bedside table, and she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer.

In her distraction, Jonathan pulled her into his arms and said, “Stay still. I’ve missed you.”

The rapid heartbeat was deafening. Teresa paused and then asked, “Who have you missed?”

“Honey, I’ve missed you,” Jonathan said, his voice thick with emotion.

Teresa couldn’t tell if the heartbeat she felt was his or hers. With her hand on his chest, she mustered the willpower to tell herself to rise.

“At the divorce, you said you didn’t love me anymore, and I don’t love you, either,” Teresa said. “Jonathan, our marriage ended two years ago.”

Jonathan suddenly and urgently kissed her, leaving her no room to resist. She pushed at him, but he pressed her down, his hands lifting her sweater.

“No,” Teresa said, her voice weak.

“Wife, I’ve missed you so much,” Jonathan’s husky voice whispered in her ear, and he kissed her again. In a daze, Teresa closed her eyes.

…

The night passed, and when Jonathan woke up again, he felt cold. He was still in the clothes from last night, alone in the large bed. Sunlight shone on his back, hurting his skin as he sat up, rubbing his forehead, and saw a thermal box on the bedside table. Opening it, he found the ravioli inside had gone bad.

He paused, his brows furrowing. Fragmented memories surfaced: drinking at Rosary Night, calling Teresa, and having the bartender make the call.

Without skipping a beat, he reached for the monitor and switched it on, watching intently. There was Teresa, guiding him into the bedroom, and him leaning heavily on her. The bedroom door was ajar, revealing them locked in a kiss. The scene quickly turned intimate.

He watched, his mouth dry, only to find himself in the video, the man he was so disappointed with. She seemed unable to accept it, pushing him away, dressing quickly, and leaving without even covering him with a blanket.