Although they always say the holidays are always full of surprises, nothing prepares me for what I see across the room after our waiter takes our order.
The sound of a man’s laugh is so familiar it catches my attention. I glance around, trying to locate the laughter as waiters glide by with trays filled with mouthwatering delectables. Then, a shock hits my heart and explodes. I can’t stop myself from staring. Across the room, the man laughing is my husband, Jasper. And he is not alone. His arm is casually draped around the back of a curvaceous woman. She turns and kisses him on the lips a mere twenty feet away from our family. As if on cue, a strolling photographer stops at their table to capture their embrace. I watch as they inch closer together and smile brightly for the camera. The flashbulb goes off, and the image uploads in my mind, possibly forever. A wave of nausea sweeps over me.
At first glance, the woman isn’t his type. For one thing, she wears her hair natural. Her clothes are loud and funky, not muted or sophisticated. Even her hot pink nails are too long and too bright a hue to appeal to Jasper’s taste. Or so I would think. Of course, this woman looks lovely to everyone else in the restaurant. But no one else has lived under the scrutiny of Jasper’s eye for the past decade except for me.
I wonder if she is Jasper’s new Eliza Doolittle? He made me over, maybe he’s thinking about doing the same with her?
My mother’s first impression of Jasper wasn’t kind. She raised me to be a strong independent woman. She could tell that Jasper’s strong will would one day undermine mine if I let him. Deep down, my mother didn’t want my life to be like hers. My father made the rules for the rest of the household to follow. She wanted my life to be different.
My mother’s warnings about Jasper angered me. I didn’t listen to her because she didn’t make sense to me. When Jasper and I first started dating, I was very opinionated and vocal about it. I didn’t waiver or step down when he challenged me. He said he had never met a woman like me before. Jasper told me more than once that he actually admired my strong will and opinions. But my pregnancy changed me. For whatever reason, I let my gestational diabetes make me feel like a failure as a woman, wife, and mother!
Looking across at this woman with my husband, I see why I am sitting here. All my insecurities that came from mismanaging my blood sugars undermined my overall confidence. It’s just dawning on me what I allowed to happen. I grab hold of the edge of the table in an attempt to settle myself. But I can’t stop myself from staring.
It’s easy to blame the lingering doubts about my gestational diabetes for what’s happening in front of me. However, Jasper’s laser beam focus on his career is also a factor. The same drive and determination that initially attracted me to him now make my blood run cold. Memories of my own father’s absence in my childhood are repeated. I don’t want my children to experience my childhood. Their father needs to be a presence in their life. He needs to be a loving source of encouragement, not just a breadwinner.
Maybe that’s why I hate his art collection. Every time Jasper buys a painting or collectible, the art is stunning but what it represents is so ugly. Every masterpiece on the walls of our home represents more time spent with clients and less time spent with his family. It breaks off another piece of my heart. The twins are growing by leaps and bounds. I hate what his art collection represents so much that I push him away. So why did it take until this moment for me to realize this?
The crushing realization that my marriage may be over hits me. What have I done? I love my life. Why did it take this woman kissing my husband to see it?
My son, Darren, slams his spoon down and declares the hot chocolate the best in the world. The sound snaps me back to reality. I look at my two children dressed in their Sunday best and burst out laughing. It takes me a good thirty seconds before I can stop myself. Thankfully the restaurant is too busy with waiters and customers for anyone to notice. The twins look at me and smile. I quickly grab some whipped cream off my son’s hot cocoa and dab it on my nose. Suddenly being refined, elegant, and soft-spoken are the last things I want to be. Both kids are laughing. It feels good.
Looking at their two sweet faces with whipped cream mustaches, I see what’s at stake. Suddenly I know what I have to do. And I have until precisely 8 PM to do it. I quickly ask for our check and scramble to get the kids home. The kids don’t notice their father, and Jasper didn’t see us either, which means I still have a chance.
TO BE CONTINUED …
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 1
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 2
Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 3
