Page 93 of The Reality Duet
“Sign here, Mrs. Wilson.”
I smile kindly and sign my name. It’s the first time I’m doing so and I hold the pen and paper slightly longer than necessary, trying to capture the moment. If I weren’t in a dress store, I’d be taking a picture of this as a memory.
This new clerk comes around the front of the desk and hands me my dress. It’s heavy, but going to be worth it.
“Thank you,” I tell her. She smiles and wishes me good luck.
Good luck? Isn’t that something you wish someone when they’re trying to win a prize or a game? Wouldn’t best wishes be better in my case?
I look over my shoulder at the lady who helped me, but she’s deep in conversation with another bride-to-be. Apparently my status as Josh Wilson’s wife doesn’t mean much to her. I’m not naïve in how things work, but I do know she should be paying attention to me.
As soon as I step out of the store, there’s a swarm of people that come rushing my way. In an instant, my heart is beating faster and my eyes are calculating the distance from where I am to my car. It’s too far and I’ll never make it in time.
My name is called out as I start down the street, but I ignore them. I’m pushed, shoved, and people step in front of me with flashing cameras and tape recorders. Questions are hurled at me from every direction.
“Joey, what you doing in Daphne?
“Did you and Josh move here?”
“When’s the wedding?”
It’s clear to me now why the sales agent didn’t want to help me. Her conscious got the best of her after she alerted the media that Josh Wilson’s wife was in her store buying a wedding dress.
I keep walking, pushing my way through the crowd until the questions change, and stop me cold in my tracks.
“How do you feel about Josh and Jules Maxwell having a baby?”
“Is the wedding on now that he knows about the baby?”
“Will you be a part of the baby’s life?”
“Did you know she was pregnant when you said yes on the Helen show?”
I try not to let my steps falter when I hear the words “Jules, Josh, and baby” yet they do. I know it’s caught on film and I’ll be the laughing stock of all the celebrity news outlets, but I don’t care. I cut behind another car and jaywalk across the street, running until I’ve reached my car. Inside, the tinted windows give a little reprieve, but not much. I bite the inside of my lip to keep from crying. I know not to trust everything the media says, but I knew, deep in my gut that we weren’t done with Jules.
The reporters follow me to the hotel and park haphazardly in order to corner me again. I rush by them, praying that they won’t follow me to my room. As soon as I see the security guard, I tell him that these people are bothering me, and he blocks their way into the lobby.
I take the stairs, but it won’t be hard to figure out which room is ours. The hotel isn’t that big and no one is going to expect Josh to be staying in a double. When I reach the third floor I’m out of breath and my arms hurt from carrying the dress.
The tears start to fall before I’m even at the door. I can’t control the sob that takes over my body. I don’t even have to find out if it’s true or not, no one lies about being pregnant. The last question replays over and over in my mind. Either she was pregnant before Josh went on the show, or he cheated on me after. I don’t want to believe that he cheated on me, but I can’t help but think that he did especially after I left with Bronx.
As soon as I open the door, I stop dead in my tracks when Josh stands. Everything I’ve been told is true. He’s home early and he’s here to tell me that he’s leaving me for Jules. They have the history and he and I don’t. I can’t compete with that.
Two things in his life that he never wanted are happening: he’s married and he has a baby on the way. I knew in my heart never to bring up children because he made it clear that he didn’t want to be a father. I accepted that. I knew that when I said yes to him. And because of a child I’m going to lose him.
Maybe he wasn’t even mine to begin with and I was on borrowed time. It seems that my time with Josh Wilson has expired.
“You bought a dress?” He sounds shocked. His eyes move from the garment bag I’m holding to my watery eyes. “And you’re crying.”
I let out a sob and he comes to me, except I hold up my hand. I don’t want him to touch me right now.
“Joey—”
I shake my head and find the courage to speak. “It seems. . . I took your advice and left the hotel. I thought I’d check out a few of the shops on Main Street and found this wedding gown boutique, and after running the pros and cons of why you want a wedding through my mind I finally went inside. I fell in love with this dress,” I take it and toss it on the counter, not caring if it gets ruined, “and the clerk recognized me. At first I thought she was sweet, but that sweetness quickly turned sour when she started to ignore me and the other clerk had to check me out. Seems like she had called the media, and when I stepped outside I was bombarded.
“I was handling it, keeping my head down and not showing them that they were getting to me until they dropped the most epic bomb ever.”
He nods, because he knows what’s coming.