“I’m sorry. I know those words are cheap and often misused, but you have to know that I didn’t know that was going to happen.”
“I know.”
My hands drop in relief as I move forward, only to have her move back. “What gives then?”
Joey looks down at the ground, to the walls, the ceiling, anywhere but in my direction. Her eyes look wet and the thought of her crying because of me, because of Jules, angers and tears at my heart. When I’m out of here, Jules isn’t going to like what I have to say.
“Joey?”
She shakes her head, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Hours ago, I would’ve used my thumb to caress her lip, but now I’m too afraid.
“Why did you tell her your plan?” Her voice breaks, stabbing me in the heart.
“I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you, or to anyone. I know how vindictive she can be. I didn’t even tell her I was coming on the show.”
“How does she know?”
“Rob,” I answer. “He knew. Gave me shit for it too. Said I was wrong. My agent and lawyer know, but they don’t work with Jules.” I pause and take a chance at moving closer to her. When she doesn’t step back, I consider it progress. My fingers tentatively touch her elbow, tugging slightly to bring her closer.
“Joey, what happened out there today was the cruelest form of humiliation. I can’t imagine what’s going through the producers’ minds or what Jules did to get her face on the show. For her, it’s publicity. But for us, it hurt us deep. I don’t want to see you hurting like this, especially because of me. This is what I’ve been trying to shield you from, the nastiness of Hollywood. You’re too good for this type of crap, the constant drama of the next person trying to bring you down.
“I like that you’re pure of heart, and sweet. I even like that you’re my number one fan. What I don’t like is the fact that people on the outside want to hurt you and I can’t do anything about it. I’m no good for you out there. I’m afraid you won’t like me, or that I’ll ruin you. I need for you to truly understand why I feel this way.”
Joey takes a step back, squares her shoulders, and glares at me. Her finger stabs me in the chest, not once, or twice, but three times, each one stronger than the previous.
“Ouch,” I say, bringing my arms up to defend myself.
“Joshua Wilson …” She stops and shakes her head. “You know what, it’s our anniversary. I made cake. Let’s eat cake.”
Joey doesn’t give me a chance to respond, and I’m not really sure what just happened, but she’s left the room and I’m just standing here like a moron utterly confused. Here I am pouring my heart out, trying to explain my feelings, and she wants to eat cake.
I play the words over in my head, looking for a spot where I screwed up. Everything sounded perfect, but now that I recall them, it’s complete shit. No wonder she couldn’t reply, I didn’t make any sense.
Rushing to the kitchen, I discover she’s behind the counter with a knife in her hand. She holds it up, and it scares me a bit, even though it’s covered in frosting. Cautiously, I take a seat at the bar and wait. If Joey wants to celebrate our anniversary, who am I to stop her? Right now, I don’t think I’m allowed to argue with Joey, there might be some husband code I’m missing. To be on the safe side, I clasp my hands and rest them on the counter and keep my gaze forward. I don’t want to get caught staring, at least not right now.
Joey starts humming as she flitters around the kitchen. I try to imagine her in mine, but the images aren’t that great. My kitchen is small with one counter. She’d hate it. In fact, my apartment isn’t anything great, but its home.
A heaping piece of cake is set down in front of me. I lick my lips in anticipation as I pick up the fork that’s sticking out of the middle.
“This looks delicious.”
“Are you saying I can’t cook?”
Her question confuses me because all I said is it looked delicious. I fear it’s a trick. The best answer is avoidance, so I stare at my piece of chocolate cake. I really just want to e
at the cake.
“You know we never got to feed each other cake at our reception.” Joey comes around to my side, resting her hand on my shoulder. I lean over and kiss her on the cheek, thankful that she’s so forgiving.
“We really didn’t have a reception, but we could definitely do that whole cake thing now if you want.”
“That’s what I want.” Her voice goes quiet as she gazes into my eyes. I don’t see the hurt that was there earlier, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that it’s gone. It’ll come back, probably tonight like a bad dream. I’ll be there to hold her, to kiss away the demon known as Jules Maxwell.
Joey has a nice big chunk of cake nestled between her thumb and fingers. I shift slightly, preparing myself to take a bite of her offering.
“I’m so happy to be your wife.” Those are the words I hear as chocolate frosting and cake are rammed into my mouth, up my nose, and over my face.
“Don’t even think about sleeping in my bed tonight. You may think you know me, and what I’m feeling, but you’re wrong. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life, and on national television. It’s one thing to be your wife and to stand by you, but for her to make a joke out of me is inexcusable.”