“What about me? I married you, Nichole. I made vows, promises in front of God, our friends, and family. I’ve already proven myself through the sickness and health part. Now you’re asking me to not forsake others. To set my sights on Jade and conceive a child from sin. How can I look at that baby and not be reminded of what I did to give it life?”
“I don’t know. I wish I could put your mind at ease, but I can’t. All I can tell you is that everything happens for a reason. Trust me when I say something greater will come out of all this. This is our test in life and I’m hoping we’ll overcome it.”
“What does all that even mean, Nichole? Why do I feel like there’s more to this than you’re telling me?”
“I’ve told you what I want, Grayson. Why can't you be happy with that?”
I was tired of arguing over this. We were both starting to sound like a broken record, and her stand on this was clear. I might as well throw in the towel because she wasn’t letting this go. Sighing hard, I tell her, “Look, I need to go. I have to be in court in less than thirty minutes.”
“Wait! When do you plan on visiting Jade?” she asks before I can hang up.
“Not now, Nichole. Give me some time. I need to wrap my mind around all of this shit before I can do anything.”
“Okay, just don’t take too long. Time is short. I should know,” she says softly.
I don’t reply. I hang up feeling like I want to beat my head into the wall. Fucking Jade. Why couldn’t she just leave? But if not her, Nichole would have found someone else. I’m in a bad mood when I get to the courthouse, and I stay that way for the rest of the day. The poor scumbag’s lawyers I was arguing against didn’t stand a chance. I was balls to the wall, merciless. Nichole thinks I’ve told her everything I was holding in but she’s wrong. There’s far more I'd like to tell her but I can’t. I’d never hurt her like that, even though she’s hurting me.
“Great day, boss. I believe you have that drug case in the bag,” Joey, the junior associate assigned to me, says as he walks in my office and sets tomorrow’s case files on my desk.
“Hope so. It’s clear the asshole is guilty.”
“The way you argued the case today, I don’t see him getting out anytime soon. Hell, I think his lawyer may have pissed his pants.” I don’t laugh. I’m not in the mood. I’m still storing a lot of anger deep inside. Seeing that I’m not in the mood for idle chitchat, Joey clears his throat uncomfortably before asking, “Do you need anything else?”
“No, I’m good. If Jack doesn’t need anything, you can call it in for the day.”
As soon as he leaves, shutting the door behind him, I lower my head and run my hands through my thick hair. It’s after five, but as of now, I have no interest in going home. This has to be the first time that has ever happened. I’ve always been excited to see my wife after work, but I can’t dig up the enthusiasm. Not when, as soon as I hit the door, I know Nichole will bug me about Jade. I’m sure she had the girl sign the contracts by now. She had them drawn up a week ago, right after meeting Jade, with full faith that she would return. When I signed them, I did it to appease her, hoping they wouldn’t be needed.
In my drawer, I pull out the bourbon I have stashed there for when I win big cases. I’m well known in the legal world for being ruthless in the courtroom. Besides my wife, defense attorneys shake in their leather loafers or heels when they learn they’ll be arguing against me. I’m the youngest lawyer to ever make partner here who isn’t a next generation heir. I’ve fought my way up the chain, and I’ve kept my spot because you can’t bullshit me. I always find the lie and then I exploit, turning it against you until I’ve proven my point and won my case. Nichole is hiding something from me, but I don’t know what. She’s the only one who has ever beaten me at my own game, and right now, she’s fighting a battle while making up the rules as she goes.
Pouring a glass, I take a deep sip and let the liquor burn its way down my throat, warming a path to my stomach. I drink until my brain stops thinking and only then do I call an Uber to take me home.
Jade
I’ve been holed up in my hotel room for two weeks now, and I still have yet to hear from McHottie. Nichole calls everyday and sometimes she comes by here to keep me company, but when she does, she usually only stays on topics about herself and never mentions Grayson or his lack of commitment. When she’s here, we make small talk about the cases she tried, and what she does now that she’s retired. Mostly she runs charity events and plays tennis at some snooty country club outside of the city limits. It all sounds utterly boring to me actually, but it’s her world. She was raised with money and earned even more when she married into the Hastings family, but neither used their family name to get where they are today. I can admire that. It makes me think of them as more than a couple of shineys. You know the Ken and Barbie types raised with silver spoons in their mouths who wouldn’t know a hard day of work if it hit them right in the face. In a way, it makes them more real. For personal reasons, I don’t talk about myself or my life in South Carolina. It’s my past and I rather not dredge it up. We’re not besties. There’s parts of my past I don’t think I’ll tell anyone. I don’t see what good would come out of sharing how much of a shitty mom my mama was or how I had to take care of myself most of my life. Those things are mine and I’m not the sharing type like she is.
Once I got my fill of sleep, I decide to use the hotel’s computer lab to update my resume. Sure the Hastings are paying me a stipend, but that’s after the baby is conceived and with the way McHottie is acting, who knows how long that’ll be. I want to be prepared, just in case they tell me this isn’t going to work out.
During one of Nichole’s visits, she found me in there and the next day, a brand new MacBook was delivered to my room. It’s the most expensive thing I’ve ever owned. I told her she doesn’t need to keep buying me stuff but she just waved me off, telling me if she doesn’t spend the money, it’ll just sit in some bank making more money. Rich people talk for ‘it’s nothing’.
I’ve also been having rather interesting dreams I hope will stop. Not nightmares, but wet dreams of all the things I want McHottie to do to my body. Most nights I wake up flustered with my heart racing, my body drenched in sweat from my rising body heat, oh and wet. Very fucking wet. I’m always slippery as fuck between my thighs, my pussy ready and willing for entry. I hate that I dream about the asshole. Why can’t I dream about someone else like, Theo James or Charlie Hunnam? Hell, even Ryan Reynolds. I bet Deadpool can fuck like a champ. Some days when Nichole comes to visit, I can’t even look her in the eyes because I hold this guilt about dreaming about her husband which is crazy since she has literally given me permission to fuck the man.
After another night of dreaming about him, I wake around one AM and take a long shower since it’s clear I won’t be able to go back to sleep. I shouldn’t have taken so many cat naps today, but after coming back from the personal trainer this morning, I felt like I got hit by a Mack Truck right after running a marathon.