Staying True - A Contemporary Romance Novel Read Online Free Page B

taste like I enjoyed the taste of coffee. She laid out
a deal. “You stop drinking coffee, and I’ll start drinking orange juice instead
of alcohol.”
    So, I gave up coffee and suffered
mega headaches for weeks. I didn’t mind. Jessica drank orange juice instead of
beer. She still wore her radiant smile and joked about the funny things that
happened the night before while she danced at a party with strangers. My
Jessica was still Jessica without the alcohol.
    Shortly after, we got married. We
hosted a huge wedding filled with family and friends who supported us and our
love.
    For our honeymoon, we trekked to the
mountains. We set out like two wild spirits on the verge of something
incredible. We drove through valleys and up mountainsides singing Billy Joel
and Eric Clapton songs, hooting and laughing. The sun shined all over our life.
I had everything. I couldn’t imagine living without her by my side.
    This rosy, cheerful halo hung around
us for the first year of our marriage. I had stepped into a life others only
dreamed about living. My wife and I hosted parties, vacationed on yachts,
enjoyed season tickets to the Giants thanks to an adoring fan, ate at fancy
restaurants, and lived a life full of laughter and spontaneity.
    On our anniversary, we drove to the
mountains. We laughed and joked the entire ride up to our mountain getaway. A
smile as natural and beautiful as the wind blanketed me in a peace I didn’t
want to share with anyone. I owned it. I was whole. Life danced with me.
    Then, as we unpacked the trunk of our
car, reality hit me like a bomb. I reached down for the containers of orange
juice which were sandwiched in a crate between a gallon of milk and water. I
cradled the crate, even though Jessica insisted she should carry it because of
the weight. “It’s a good workout,” I said, swinging the crate from the trunk
and wrestling my way towards balance. Well, my balance caved and the crate
tumbled out of my arms and smashed onto the concrete driveway. Milk and orange
juice exploded and spilled into a gooey mess at my feet. Jessica dropped to her
knees fighting to control the carnage that ensued. Her face sunk as the orange
juice and milk spilled from the crushed containers onto the gravel. She gasped
like someone had punctured a life-giving bubble, like someone had murdered her
child, like someone had reached down from the mountaintop and yanked her heart
right out of her chest. I’d never seen a grown woman cry like this.
    My life changed in that moment. That
pivotal moment would forever be etched in my history as that moment when my
wife plucked the keys from my front pocket, climbed into the front seat and
drove away muttering, “I can’t do this trip without my juice.”
    I stood under a ripped veil, as I
watched our sedan hug the curved driveway and settle into the steep decline.
Jessica wasn’t talking about orange juice. My wife, the woman everyone loved,
was a woman unable to house a smile without first dousing her liver with
alcohol.
    I decided standing on that
mountaintop that I would help her. I would blend-to-mend if that’s what it
took. That’s what married people did. She’d do it for me. Whatever it took,
we’d get through this. No one would have to know. No one would ever know. I
would guard this with everything I had in me. This would be our secret. We’d
deal with it quietly. Yes. That’s how I planned it. A quiet descent from a new
hell into the arms of safety, of protection, of peace. I’d sweep away the
perils that laced into our life and polish it best as I could.
    Jessica eventually turned the car
around and came back for me. We decided on that mountaintop that she’d check
into rehab.
    Throughout those first two weeks as a
sober person, her spirit crashed. Her dancing suffered. Her mood swings were
unbearable. I missed her smile and her laugh. “Life is boring without alcohol,”
she said to me one night as we sat by the fire sipping tea. “It’s like I