Husband Stay (Husband #2) (4 page)

I stared at the
accounts clerk behind her counter and she simply stared back at me, as if she
had all day to wait while I stressed about money. I’d been counting on singing
and deli work to keep my buffer of five thousand dollars intact. Paying this
bill and having less than a thousand felt like a terrifyingly vulnerable
situation to be in.

“I don’t have that
amount...readily accessible,” I added, so I wouldn’t look like a charity case.
“Can I take an account and—”

“I’m sorry, no.”
She pointed at a sign next to the reception desk.
All accounts must be finalized
on departure.

“But I came in
through emergency. In an ambulance. I didn’t see that.”

“You asked for
private medical treatment. If you’d gone to the public section of the
hospital—”

“Okay. I
understand.”

I suddenly felt
very tired. It was nearly seven am and I’d been awake for twenty-four hours.

“I’ll have to call
someone.” I reached into my handbag for my phone. “I’ll get a credit card
number for you.”

The clerk nodded
and went back to typing, as if I’d ceased to exist. In her defense, that could
have been to give me space so I wouldn’t feel embarrassed. But it made me feel
even more alone than I actually was.

I looked at my
contacts list, wondering if I could bring myself to ask one of my friends to front
the money so I’d still have my safety buffer. Jill had ploughed most of her
savings into her tea shop
Bohemian Brew,
which Fritha was managing, and
Fritha lived week to week.

Louella was rich,
but she and I had been in competition since we’d both married. Admittedly, we
were both in the process of divorcing, so neither of us was going to win a
‘perfect wife’ contest. And neither of us were mothers.
Yet.
The only
thing that separated us irrevocably was money. Danny and I had been ‘middle
class’. Louella and Marcus were wealthy.

I hadn’t let that
get to me, and in fact, I’d told myself money was irrelevant. But if I asked
her to bail me out, that would mean she’d won. I knew it was stupid to feel
that way—Jill would kick me up the backside if I dared mention it—but I simply
couldn’t do it. I couldn’t ring Louella and listen to mock sympathy covering
triumph. It would ruin us as friends.

There had to be
another way. So to buy myself time I said, “I’m just going to the toilet. I’ll
be back in a minute.”

The clerk nodded
absently and watched me for a few second to be sure I wasn’t heading for the exit.
Then she returned to her computer and I decided to distract myself with a first
toilet experience in a plaster cast. I had to do it sometime. And Jill had always
told me a good pee clears the mind.

Before I reached
the ladies’ rest room, however, I saw the sturdy nurse who’d bossed me into
visiting Jack.

She nodded in
recognition. “Good job of cheering him up,” she said, completely straight
faced.

I blinked in
surprise. Was she reprimanding me? “I beg your pardon. That creep—”

“Was spaced out on
morphine. He would have said anything.”

Oh.
Okay.

That wasn’t what
I’d expected.

But still, I
rallied. “He was drunk when I met him, so excuse me for not realizing—”

“He wasn’t drunk,”
she snapped. “He was having an allergic reaction to antibiotics. He barely
drinks at all, according to his chart. He’s an athlete. An Olympic Gold medalist.”

“Oh.”
Oh.
I
didn’t know where to go from there, until good manners forced me to say, “I’m
sorry. No one told me.”

She nodded again, an
abrupt jerk of the head, reminding me of my mother’s old white corgi. “His
parents are elderly and they live out west. They can’t come in. So he’s alone.”

I stared at her
disbelievingly. Did she want me to go back in there?
No way.
Of course I
felt a pang of sympathy for his parents being so far away from him, as mine
were from me, but I wasn’t about to let my marshmallow heart get me into any
more trouble. I’d booked a flight. I had to go.

“I’m sorry about
that, but I have my own problems.”

She raised a
disbelieving eyebrow.

“My ex-husband cut
off my health insurance.” I held up my plastered wrist. “So I’ve got to find
five grand to pay for this. Damage that
Jack’s responsible for, by the
way. And considering I won’t be able to work until this comes off, I’m not
feeling particularly charitable toward him right now.”

Okay, that was
bitchy, but aforesaid tiredness was catching up with me.

She nodded. “Up to
you whether you visit him again.” But she pinned me with an
I think you
should
gaze before she marched off on those rubber heels nurses sneak
around on.

“I’m not,” I said
to her retreating back, but quietly enough that she wouldn’t hear me. It wasn’t
her fault that she’d provoked me with her ridiculous suggestion.

Go back in there.

As if.

But the moment
after I thought,
When hell freezes over
, my reckless imagination saw me
back in his room, up on his bed, doing things that
would not be allowed
in a hospital. Things I hadn’t imagined doing with any man, like licking my way
down his stomach, below the sheet to...

I shuddered and
closed my eyes, but it wasn’t a shudder of revulsion. It was a shudder of
Shiva
protect me from my own mind.
Because I didn’t do oral sex. It was
unsanitary. And unnecessary. You didn’t make babies that way. I’d been very
happily avoiding that for the last twenty years. So I had no idea why I’d be fantasizing
about it now, imagining I’d enjoy it.

It was ridiculous.

I shuddered again,
and forced myself to look around for the restroom. When I saw it, I marched on in,
and after some awkwardness getting my dress up and panties down one-handed, I
had a good, long pee. Which, exactly as Jill said, did clear my mind.

I needed to get
out of the hospital. And the only way they’d let me do that was by paying the
bill. There was no way around that. I’d be short on funds but I could work
something out. Jill would help with ideas. She was smart. I wasn’t alone in
this.

So I made my way
back to the admin desk, emptied my savings account to pay the bill, and on the
way out, spent a precious ten dollars in the hospital pharmacy buying a pair of
cheap flip-flops which I wore to the bus stop, trying to ignore the curious
glances of other commuters.

Thankfully, the
trip back to my cousin’s apartment was fast and far less expensive than a taxi
would have been. Kamal was still home, and after hearing my tale of woe, he
offered to drive me to the airport on his way to work, even though it would
make him late.

I wanted to hug
him, but he was twenty-five and oversexed enough without me giving him mixed
signals. He looked on me as an older sister which suited me perfectly, and I
was grateful that he was accommodating enough to let me stay in his guestroom
until I ‘found my feet’, whenever that was.

As we got into his
nippy little Mazda sports car in the basement of his apartment block, I glanced
across at him and suddenly realized that other women would think Kamal was
cute. He went to the gym and had pretty brown eyes which had lured many a girl
home to have noisy sex in the bedroom next to me.

Last Saturday
night I’d even overheard him professing that Hindus were taught the Kama Sutra,
which had made me smile—for the first time in a long time. But as for my own sexual
reaction to him? Nada. Zip. Nothing. Which was good. He was my cousin. But in
the wake of the debacle with Jack, I felt suddenly confused about men and that
distracted me from conversation as we drove to the airport.

Was my libido
waking up? Would I find all sorts of men attractive now? Or was it only Jack
who turned me on? Kamal pulled up outside
Departures
and caught me staring
at him. He frowned back.

“Are you
okeydokey, Missy Diva?” he said in a faux Mumbai accent, complete with
head-wobbling.

He’d heard Jill
call me that once and now used it to tease me when he was fishing for a smile.

He got one. “Sure.
Just the wrist.” I raised the cast, glad to be out of the sling. It had been
awkward.

“You seem quiet.
Quieter,” he qualified, and tilted his head to look at me. “I know you’ve got
money dramas, but don’t worry about rent. I was paying it fine on my own before
you came.”

He couldn’t quite
pull off the devil-may-care attitude he was clearly aiming for, but I
appreciated the effort, awkward though it was. “Thanks K. But I don’t want to
be a burden. I’ll find something. Call center maybe.”

“Well…” He
shrugged, looking slightly crestfallen. “I’ve offered.”

Was I being
ungrateful? Maybe this wasn’t the time to be proud. “Sorry, you’re right. It
would be great to have some help until my finances are sorted.”

His cheeky smile
came back. “Very good. Very good,” he said, head-wobbling again, looking so
much like my father I wanted to laugh.

Instead, I let
myself out of the car and snatched up my overnight bag. “Thanks for the lift.” I
was clumsy carrying that and my handbag in one hand, so I ended up using my
backside to close the door. Which was embarrassing. But Kamal wouldn’t care. He
was late for work, so I wasn’t at all surprised when he took off without
looking back.

Half an hour later
I was waiting in the boarding lounge, texting Jill to tell her my flight would
be on time. She sent back:
I hope you brought nanna clothes, because I don’t
want Finn looking at you in a bikini. You know how crazy jealous I am about
him.

I took a second to
check what I was wearing: yellow halter sundress—mid-calf which was
respectable, but there was some cleavage showing. I ratted through my overnight
bag and found a light sweater in complimentary lime that had a nice high boat
neckline. I pulled it over my head, stuffing the cast through a sleeve
awkwardly, then pulled it straight.

Better.

I felt justified
about texting back:
Am wearing baggy clothes. I promise no bikini. I have to
keep the cast dry.
Even if I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t swan around in
front of someone else’s man scantily clad, especially not a new man. I knew how
hard it had been for Jill to overcome her trust issues to get into this
relationship with Finn, despite the fact that they adored each other. The last
thing I wanted was to upset that.

So it was a surprise
when I walked off the plane and Finn was waiting for me alone, looking casually
gorgeous in cut-off jeans and a white tee-shirt that said
Husband in
Training
with a picture of a puppy and a rolled up newspaper. He gave me a
kiss on the cheek and didn’t seem awkward, although we’d only met a handful of
times.

He smiled the
self-deprecating smile that had won Jill completely and pointed a finger at the
tee-shirt. “My cousin Lizzie bought it for me and Jill makes me wear it. They
think it’s funny.”

“It is.”

He grinned, all
honey-colored hair, deep green eyes and white teeth. Classically handsome. No
doubt about it, but luckily for me, there was zero chemistry between us. Which
brought me right back to the
Am I only attracted to Jack
question.

I distracted
myself by saying, “Is it okay that I’m here?” I didn’t want to impose.

“
Of course
.”
He shook his head, as if that was a completely crazy question. Then he took my
overnight bag out of my good hand and gestured the direction we’d be heading. “She’s
making a special lunch so she sent me. Is that okay?”

“
Of course
,”
I mimicked back and he grinned.

“Okay. I deserved
that.”

We walked through
the terminal in silence then, both smiling, and I realized just how easy he was
to be with. No wonder Jill had fallen for him as a friend before they’d become ‘an
item’.

When we reached
the car, he opened the passenger door for me, then he held my handbag while I
got in, and asked if I needed help with the seatbelt. None of it was cheesy or
put on. He just seemed genuinely interested that I, and my broken wrist, were
okay, which was both sad and sweet, considering how confused I felt about my
future as part of ‘a couple’.

On the way to
their house he gave me a guided tour of Byron Bay, pointing out various cafes
they’d visited. A few locals waved to him and were clearly ‘characters’. One
had a beard like Grizzly Adams and a shaggy dog to match. They made me laugh.

Then we drove
along the beach front, which was stunning—all white sand and azure blue ocean.
I really wanted to relax in his company, but I couldn’t help wondering if Jill
was counting the minutes and speculating about where we were. The
last
thing
I wanted was for her to mistrust me. Or her future husband.

When we arrived at
their property, we bumped down a long driveway bordered on both sides by fruit
orchards. At the end was a rambling timber bungalow. When we pulled up out
front, Jill bounded down the short flight of stairs from the veranda in tie-dyed
shorts and a matching crop top. She pulled my door open and waited patiently
while I levered myself out, then she wrapped me in a careful hug. Her
shoulder-length brown hair was sun-bleached and she smelt of sunshine.

“Welcome to the
love shack,” she said, and pulled back to grin at me.

I nodded at her
attire. “Fritha been dressing you?”

Her teeth flashed
white again, and I realized she’d put on a tan. “Nah. Just trying to look like
a local. It’s hippy central here on the north coast. You know that.”

“Not like you to
conform,” I pointed out.

Finn wrapped an
arm around her shoulders. “My fault. If I have to wear this…” He pointed at his
offending Tee-shirt again. “She has to wear that.”