"J-Jacque? I-Is it really you?" I ask through trembling lips. He stands in absolute awe and shock, not saying a word and dropping his phone to the ground without a thought of its wellbeing. I feel like a ghost to him, and he feels like a stranger to me.
"Na-Natalie...," he finally says my name, and I catch a bit of relief from it all. He begins slowly walking up to me; looking like a baby that just discovered how to walk for the first time. I stay firmly on my feet, not hinting at moving away or getting closer. As he inches close to me, he reaches out to touch my lips, and once he realizes I'm not a ghost, he grabs me whole in his arms. I've been crying all day, so I thought I had no more tears left, but I feel them fall down my cheeks as he embraces me.
"I dreamt of holding you so many times," Jacque says through fighting sobs, "I can't believe you're alive." I hold him tightly, not wanting to let go. I can't believe he's really here, holding me. How did this happen? How did it all come to this?
Several hours before...
After I arrived in New York City, I immediately went to BabyDoll Magazine to find Jacque. I showed everyone his picture to confirm, and the receptionist and his assistant told me he took the day off and was probably with his girlfriend. I felt my heart wrench at the word's: 'girlfriend'. I went to the restroom and cried until I felt better.
He's alive. He's really alive.
It was all I could think about.
I began coming up with more and more questions every time, and even thought to write them down on my tablet, because it was so overwhelming. I don't want to believe my mother had something to do with this but, in the back of my mind, I knew:
She is the only one who can do something like this.
So, I carried on forward and went back to our old apartment, I really didn't think he was still living there, but to my bewilderment, he came down the steps as I was walking up; so coincidentally and serendipitous. My heart has never pounded so hard in my life, I was afraid it would stop.
Once I explain the days' ordeal, he leans up against the counter next to the stools, where we shared many meals together, and sighs deeply while shaking his head, and arms crossed. He doesn't say anything so I continue without moving from the front door.
"No one knows what I'm really doing here, well, except for my boss-"
"Miss Patel?" Jacque interrupts me. I moisten my lips, and nod while looking down.
"There's something else," I finally move from my place by the front door, walk over to the kitchen, and pull out my tablet from my bag, "I had to make a list of questions, because none of this is making sense to me, and I thought maybe you could help me put some pieces together?"
Jacque takes a deep breath and rubs his face before turning to me facing the kitchen. "I haven't even been able to think in the last ten minutes, but I'll do my best," and I notice a hint of irritation forming in his words.
"Your brother, Lawrence, told me you were dead and that your family- uh, our family, wanted nothing to do with me," I say this as the rage builds up in his eyes.
"Did he?" Jacque says so softly, I barely hear it, "That's interesting, he and your mother told me the same thing."
I feel a slow change in my facial expression as the words escape his lips. My mother... How can she do this to me? To us? I frantically turn away, and brush my hair away from my face with my fingers. I refuse to cry; I already know what she is and I was a fool to think she'd ever change.
"I guess she even curated a death certificate for you so I'd believe you were gone, did she do the same with you?" I hear the anger building up in his voice, and it drives a fear into me that I never worried about when we were together. I turn back to look at him, my eyes welling up with tears.
"I didn't- I'm not sure, she gave me a death certificate but I was too heartbroken to pay attention to anything she was doing," I say with a mild stutter, "I woke up the same day of the accident, no one would tell me anything, but Lawrence came and told me that, what was I supposed to believe?"
"You didn't question your mother's motives, even after all that history?" Jacque continues to get noticeably irritable. I stop and think for a moment. Back then, I didn't want to believe it and I couldn't shake the feeling that he was alive, but what was I supposed to do? There was a grave, a death certificate, his brother's claim that my husband was dead.
"I-," I try to explain my mother's actions, "She said she changed, I didn't-"
"Four weeks!" he yells, "Four fucking weeks! That's how long I was in a coma, and your mother just plotted and got away with it!" I look at him, completely lost for words and dumfounded. Slightly shaking in fear, and trying to be careful with the next words I choose, I take a seat on a stool away from him.
"I'm sorry, I was fooled by her again," I say in utter dismay. Jacque simply sits down, with his arms tightly crossed, trying his best to stay composed. We've never yelled at each other before. We always talked things out and never really argued. This starts to feel wrong, and I immediately grab my bag and put my tablet away.
"What are you doing?" He asks very harshly as I make my way to the front door. I've never handled conflict very well, and I need to calm down. "Where are you going?!" he yells as I continue to ignore him. He rushes to the door, and chain locks it, standing up against it and stopping me from leaving. I get very emotional and try my best to stop more tears from forming.
"This was a mistake, you have someone already, you've moved on, I don't even know why I came!" I begin to yell, and I can't stop myself, "I should've left as soon as I found out you have a girlfriend! Just-," I take a deep breath because too much stress induces my seizures, "Just let me out! Now!"
Jacque looks unmoved by my wild rant, and simply stands there, staring hard at me. I turn back around to sit on the kitchen stool again, and take deep breaths to calm myself. Ever since my move to France, I've gotten better healthcare for my seizures, even learning meditation practices to help calm my nerves. I hear his footsteps inch closer towards me and feel his hand on my shoulder.
"I'm sorry, I forgot stress makes you have seizures, I shouldn't have yelled, it's not your fault," Jacque finally says in the calm and collected demeaner I'm accustomed to. "I'm just furious, I mean," he walks back to the door and leans back-first against it, still worried I might run out, "This whole time, you were alive, and I got therapy, I had to get so many fucking surgeries, and all I wanted was to die and be with you again."
I gulp down hard at his words; as he blankly stares off into space, remembering all that has transpired. I let out a small sigh I had been holding in from the moment I sat back down and let the tears fall on my cheeks.
"You say I've moved on just because I found someone, but," Jacque raises his right hand and shows me his wedding ring, now placed on the wrong side to signify he's a widow. He removes it and places it on the left ring finger, "I never lied to anyone about it, but now it feels like I've been lying to everyone, because you're still alive, and don't even have your wedding ring," Jacque says so coldly, I feel he may lose his temper again.
"After the accident, I had a seizure because the last thing I saw, was your face bloodied and unrecognizable, they had to remove all my jewelry when I was admitted to the hospital, I fought like hell to find it again, you have no idea," I respond as calmly as I can.
"You didn't fight hard enough, I'm sure your mother has it hiding somewhere, oh, let me guess, she convinced you to go live in Paris," Jacque's words sting me and I can't help the burning feeling in my heart as he says this. All I can do is stay silent and allow him to let it out, "This was all her plan, she told me directly, on the phone, that you were dead and mailed me a 'copy' of your death certificate with the address of your gravestone," he rests his hands on his lap, intertwining his fingers.
"She took total advantage of the fact that I was in a coma, so she could create one big lie! And for what? To get you under control. Again," Jacque finishes this with a disheartened smirk. I contemplate on this for a while: she didn't insist on anything, not at first, but after we moved to France, she really did let me be. At least, that's what I believe.
"What about you? Huh?" Jacque continues, "Three years all alone? Or did you move on with someone else, too?"
I choke trying to answer, and realize: this really was her plan all along. She probably told Grant where to find me, and even acted dumb, pretending she didn't know that we were dating. I know my mother all too well! My God, how could I not see it?
"I-I," I begin to stammer, afraid of what he might say after I tell him. I can't lie to him, so I close my eyes and let the words form so I don't panic. "I-I'm seeing someone, only just recently, b-but it's um," I can barely form the words.
"It's... what?" I hear Jacque's very calm voice, and it settles my nerves.
"It's, um," I lick my lips to moisten them, "It's G-Grant Fairbanks." As the words escape my lips, I open my eyes to see a furious look on Jacque I never witnessed before. He looks off towards the window and tries to hold back the tears I can clearly see forming in his eyes. He raises his right hand to his mouth in contemplation.
"So," he says as calmly as he can, "You're the little number he keeps bragging about, the one who won't put out?" Jacque says a little too boldly, as if he knows him. I frown at him, because I have no idea what he's talking about. "You really need a reality check, your mother is so full of shit! She set you up, that guy is nothing but a slimy pig!"
"He hasn't done anything to me, he's been so patient and kind about everything, you talk about him like he's your old college buddy or something!" I exclaim completely ignoring the fact that I just defended a guy who's not my official boyfriend.
"Sure, that's why he just happened to be in France, at such a convenient time in your life, when I have now moved on to someone new, and you've moved on to bigger things," Jacque says so assumingly, it urges me to get up and leave. "I guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree."
"Jacque, I am not like my mother! I didn't leave because I wanted to fuck somebody else! Which you clearly have, I needed to leave for myself, because I couldn't handle the pain anymore!" I stop because I can hear myself screaming at this point, and Jacque's expression changes from anger to despondence.
"You know what happened when Grant only put an arm around my shoulders last night? He thinks I left without saying a word simply because it freaked me out, but the truth is: I chased after you once I saw you at the fashion show," I'm now crying uncontrollably, "I'm not in love with him! I'm in love with you! I knew that I would never feel that way about him like I knew I felt for you! And that's why I came here!"
Jacque's expression is now calm and his gaze is less penetrating. Our eyes are locked on one another, and the tears are rolling down my cheeks. He reaches over to grab a box of tissues from his desk and hands it to me. He turns his back to me, hands on his hips and lets out a long sigh.
"Grant has old friends at my Magazine company, they were the ones who informed me he was bragging about a 'hot little number' he's been aching to lay," Jacque says so carefully, almost as if he's trying not to hurt me more than he has, "I just thought you'd like to know." Jacque takes a tissue from the box he's given me, and wipes his face.
"I'm glad I didn't sleep with him then," I say with a light hearted chuckle. Jacque gives me a silly thumbs up and gets very close to me, now more serious than before.
"So, what do we do now?" Jacque asks in a very low, and sensual tone. I can't figure out what he means, but I'm lost in his gaze, ready to kiss him because of the close proximity and the fact that he is literally the last man I've slept with and dreamed about for these last three years.
"I...," beginning to form words that have not come to mind, "I have to go, I'm not even supposed to be here-" I feel Jacque grab my arm as I make my way towards the front door. He pulls me into him, and kisses me more passionately than he ever did before. I try to push him away, but his large hands firmly grasp my thin arms, stopping me from pulling away. I eventually gasp for air.
"No, this isn't right, you have Pamela now, we can't do this, we can't-," I try to plead, but he forces more kisses, not acknowledging anything I've just said. I try again to pull away, but he shushes me.
"You're my wife, you understand me?" Jacque finally responds, I look at him a little terrified, "As far as anyone else is concerned, I'm your husband, so they can all go fuck themselves." I begin to cry, this time, out of joy. Despite the crude way he phrased the words, it was one of the most romantic moments in my life. He kissed me again, and I no longer felt the need to fight back. He is right, we are still alive, therefore, still married.
Once I kiss him back, I feel the same familiar sensations I felt the last time we were together. We kiss so forcefully and passionately, it's as if we've lived without air all this time. Fast and passionate at first, then slow and sensual. He unbuttons my silk shirt while slowly kissing my neck, then gliding his tongue along my breasts. I tilt my head up, enjoying every touch and graze, working his way all over my body. He stops for a moment to look at me, then picks me up, grabbing my legs over his and carrying me over to the couch. I pull the pins out of my hair and let it down, revealing that my hair is shorter now than the last time he saw me.
He smiles at me for the first time since we've seen each other, and we both know what will happen next. He lays softly on top of me, and begins kissing me, so passionately, it feels like my head will explode. I slide my tongue teasingly across his lips, making him moan softly, his moans always drove me crazy. I continue kissing him just as passionately as he does, and it awakens a monster inside both of us. Suddenly, he turns me over and pulls my pants off forcefully, but I don't object. I hear his zipper pull down, as he grazes my rear, gently sliding a finger inside me.
I flinch in the delight of his touch, and almost start to cry, still in disbelief that he is truly alive. I feel his hard member forcefully thrust into me, and a loud moan comes out from my mouth. Every thrust feels amazing, and I completely lose myself in the moment. It's been so long since I've felt this, I climax sooner than I thought I ever could, and with a loud moan, I shout: "I'm coming!"
I drop myself on the couch, and try to catch my breath, realizing I've probably frightened Jacque at some point during our rough love making, so I turn and laugh to signal that I'm fine.
"Don't stop, it's just been so long," I explain through laughter.
"I know, I can tell," Jacque responds," You're so tight, I'm barely holding back." I begin laughing, making him laugh, and it's as if we never lost that chemistry that brought us together.
"I'm not done with you yet," he says with confidence, "I've got three years pent up, you better be ready."
I giggle at the thought of pulling an all-nighter, like we did before, then reach in to kiss him again.
The only thing I can think about in this moment, is my love for this man. The rest is non-existent.