Second Chances

He really was beautiful. I sat in my dark corner watching him work the room. I had a margarita sitting in front of me, but I’d barely made a dent in it. I never drank, never went to bars, never watched men, but tonight I was finally free. I wanted to do everything I had never done before. I leaned back against the worn vinyl cushion in my shadowed booth and closed my eyes. A year ago, the thought of being here at all would have had me in a panic, let alone being here by myself. I’d come a long way in a year. I opened my eyes halfway, continuing to watch the way the lights pulsed against his raven hair, admiring his lithe movements, entranced by the dimple denting his cheek as he smiled at the nearest woman. Mesmerized, I relaxed and allowed my thoughts to drift, allowed myself to remember…

My period was late. I sat on the exam table waiting for the test results, hopeful and excited. After nine years of marriage, Brad had finally decided that now was the time to start a family. I’d wanted this for so long. I had taken a home test immediately when I realized my period hadn’t arrived. It was negative, so I’d made an appointment with my gynecologist, and today I would confirm that my late period meant I was pregnant.

Anticipation had me wriggling on the exam table as the doctor entered the room with my test results. She smiled at me, lifting a questioning eyebrow. “Well, Haley, I’m not sure if this is good news or not, but you’re not pregnant.”

The air whooshed out of my lungs and disappointed tears pricked my eyes. This was not going to be easy. My brain began frantically looping: getting pregnant takes time - we have time - we can keep trying.

Dr. Snow gently interrupted my spiraling thoughts. “It looks like that’s not what you were hoping for but really, it’s a good thing. You need a clean bill of health before you get pregnant.”

“Clean bill of health?” I repeated, then gaped at her as she replied, “You’re not exhibiting any symptoms yet, but your tests show that you have gonorrhea.”

I had gonorrhea? That wasn’t possible. I shook my head, certain that I had misheard.

Dr. Snow continued, “I’ve called in a prescription. Once we’ve cleared up the infection, you can certainly try again for a baby. But you should use protection or refrain from sexual activity until the STI is gone.”

Gonorrhea...how was that possible? I had infrequent sex with exactly one person, and that person was my husband. My stomach started to hurt. My brain started to hurt. Then my whole body began hurting as the implications of my doctor’s words sank in. Devastated, I shook my head to clear it and blinked back my tears. I wanted to scream. Instead, I quietly thanked the doctor and left to pick up the prescription.

I had gonorrhea. There was only one way I could contract it. The person responsible for giving it to me could only have contracted it through sexual contact with someone else – someone who was not his wife.

I shook the memories from my mind, losing myself in the vision of that gorgeous man dancing, grinding between two equally lovely women. I envied their impetuousness, their obvious enjoyment of each other’s bodies. I sipped at my drink, feeling a bit cheated that I’d never experienced such abandon. The need to get out of my own head was growing exponentially. One sip was not enough as memories crashed over me again.

Prescription in hand, I sat in my car, rapidly composed a text, and pressed send: I need you. Can I please stop by the office to talk to you?

Within seconds, the reply appeared: Of course! But Skyler and I are working from home today. I’ll take a lunch break when you get here.

Hands shaking, I drove to my best friend’s home, grateful it was nearby. Jamie opened the door before I even knocked. I was always surprised that he could tell from a simple text message exactly where my head was. No need for subtext. He just knew. My tears started as he pulled me into the house, enveloping me in a hug. He let me sob for a moment before tilting my chin up to look into my eyes.

“Tell me,” he said gently.

My sobs became louder as I ugly cried into his chest. He waited a few moments, then asked me again to talk to him. I choked out the words, “I have an STI,” then dissolved into tears again.

Jamie stiffened, his body vibrating with sudden anger. “I’ll kill him,” he bit out.

Skyler, Jamie’s husband, entered the room murmuring, “What’s going on?”

His quiet concern undid any self-control I had gained. I continued sobbing as Jamie’s explanation echoed harshly in the room, “Her bastard husband’s been fucking around. He’s gifted her with a fucking infection”

“Oh, babe, that sucks!”

Skyler’s arms closed around my exposed side, sandwiching me between the two men. They held me, let me weep, and offered me tissues. When I was calm enough to talk, Jamie led me to the couch and seated me between Skyler and him. Jamie’s arm pulled me into his side while Skyler held my hand.

“Can you talk about it with us,” Skyler asked, “or do you just need to feel bad for a little bit?”

I felt a tiny smile coming. Skyler was so amazing.

I turned to Jamie, “Do you know how lucky you are?”

A crooked grin lifted one corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I do,” he said.

Skyler shook his head at us and raised a questioning eyebrow at me.

“I can talk,” I said.

I blinked as I realized that the music hadn’t stopped, but the gorgeous man in front of me was no longer dancing. His eyes were locked on mine. Embarrassed, I looked down, certain that no twenty-something man wanted to be ogled by a woman in her thirties. I hadn’t planned to keep staring, it just happened. I counted to fifty before lifting my gaze again. He was gone. Missing his presence, I perused the other people on the dance floor. It was getting late, but I wasn’t ready to go home. I lifted my drink again, surprised that it was more than half gone and a little less revolting this time. A few moments later, my glass was empty and I was enjoying a pleasantly warm buzz. My thoughts fuzzed backward in time once again.

Of course, divorce was the only option. I think, had I not been infected with gonorrhea, I might have been willing to try counseling, reconciliation, and relationship work. It just felt so impossibly cold-hearted. I thought we were trying for a baby, for god’s sake! Not only was Brad fucking another woman, but he was also doing it without a condom, and then he was fucking me. My voice rose as the livid words left me. Jamie and Skyler talked me down, and then Skyler laid out a plan.

“You have to go back home,” he said.

“What the hell?” Jamie was immediately in Skyler’s face. “She is NOT going back there. She’s staying right here.”

“No.” Skyler was firm. “Just listen. Haley, you’re getting that divorce, but you’re taking Brad down in the process.”

He took my phone and input a name and a number and then one more. “Call that first number. Meet with Jensen. My father’s law firm has used him for a decade. He’s the best private investigator they’ve ever employed. He’ll find out who gave Brad the STI, and he’ll also find out if there are any other women.”

I made a strangled sound as Jamie grabbed my hand.

“I know it sucks,” Skyler continued, “but it has to happen. We’re here for you, always. Once you have that information, you call the second number. It’s Rick Jordan who’s also with Dad’s law firm. He’s a criminal attorney, but he’ll know a divorce lawyer who will use everything that Jensen finds to make sure your settlement is more than generous.”

I knew Skyler was right. Jamie gave my hand a squeeze, and I dialed the number.

“Can I buy you another?”

Startled, I looked up, locking eyes with the occupant now sitting in my corner booth. He smiled, that dimple making its appearance just for me this time, and I noted that his black-fringed eyes were a very deep blue.

“Well?” He looked at my empty glass.

“Oh! Sorry!” Of course, I was staring. I had been all night. “I was lost in thought. When did you sit down?”

“I’ve been here a few minutes. Wanted to see if you’d notice.”

I hadn’t. Memory lane was consuming me. “I, uh...” my voice trailed off.

Did I want another drink? I never drank, but right now I felt relaxed, calmer than I’d been in ages. And I was very much enjoying the view.

“Thank you -”

I hesitated. Never take a drink from a stranger. Surely that only applied to young, beautiful women, which I was definitely not, but one could never be too careful. My eyes met his again and his grin widened.

“Come on.” He read my mind, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. “We’ll go to the bar, then I can treat you, and it’s not accepting a drink from a strange man.”

I’d been sitting too long. My legs felt unsteady. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Or him. At this point, anything was possible. He kept my hand, winding through the bodies on the dance floor. “I’m Haden.”

I nodded, following him. He looked back at me expectantly.

“Oh! I’m Haley.” Embarrassment had me trying to pull my hand away. I really needed to get my head together.

Haden laughed, releasing my hand and settling his low on my spine as he guided me to the bar. “I’m very happy to meet you, Haley.”

Haden ordered something for me. I was so caught up in watching him, I had no idea if it was a duplicate of my original drink or something new. He placed an order for himself, waited for the bartender to hand us our drinks, then led us back to my table.

“So, Haley, what’s your story? You’re not dancing and you’ve only had one drink. You’re sexy as fuck but you’re here by yourself, and you’ve been sitting here for a couple of hours.” One eyebrow hitched up on his ridiculously gorgeous face. “Spill,” he commanded.

“I don’t think so,” I responded. He was too young to be interested in the reasons I was there. “You should go dance again.”

“I’d really like to know,” he said seriously, and I laughed.

“Thanks for the drink. It was sweet of you. Go dance.”

Haden knocked back his drink like it was water, gave my hand a squeeze, then entered the press of bodies on the dance floor and disappeared.

Jensen sat across from me, a folder resting on the perpetually sticky surface of the diner table. “I think that’s everything,” he said.

I opened the folder, leafing through the documentation and glancing at the photos, willing myself not to cry again. I’d easily managed to avoid sex with my uninterested husband for the past three weeks while Jensen compiled everything that now lay in front of me. There was not just one woman. There were many. Jensen’s investigation showed that Brad had never been faithful to me, including the time when we were dating, engaged, and newly married. I was unsure what felt worse, the fact that I had trusted the cheating bastard or that all our friends, many of whom had supplied the information to Jensen, knew and never told me. I’d been with Brad since I was nineteen. For ten years, I chose to ignore signs, accept explanations, and turn a blind eye to what was clearly obvious to everyone else in my life. I felt like a fool.

“I don’t usually say this,” Jensen looked at me as I blanched with shame and sadness, “but you shouldn’t feel like you were stupid. I’ve never checked up on someone who covered his tracks like your husband. He was devious, and he involved your friends in the cover-up. They didn’t like it and were almost eager to answer questions about him. This says nothing about you and everything about Brad. Your husband is a slimy rat-bastard, and you definitely need new friends.”

I barked out a shocked laugh, surprised and relieved by his words. “Jensen, you have no idea how much that helps.”

“Will you be okay?” he asked.

“I think I will.” I closed the folder, paid his fee, and left the diner. Once seated in my car, I dialed the attorney Skyler had recommended. Then I went home, packed a bag, and moved into my best friend’s guest room.