TWENTY-ONE

MAGGIE

I didn't want to believe it. 

I couldn't believe it. 

But my hands shook as I smoothed out my dress for church Sunday morning. My stomach couldn't stop flipping and twisting into knots. 

Kaine and I hadn't seen each other in nearly a week. His texts were short and to the point, if even curt. I felt the distance growing between us like an infected wound that refused to heal.

I wanted so badly to demand what was going on, to know where we stood and why he was suddenly keeping me at arm's length. None of those questions were appropriate to ask over text, even I knew that much. But he kept dodging my requests to see each other in person and that hurt more than I was willing to admit. 

All I knew was I would inevitably see him when we arrived at the chapel. How should I act? Keep cool? Keep my distance and give him space? Was this all just a stupid misunderstanding and I was just being a clingy, lovesick teenager? 

And the question that gripped my heart cruelly: What should I do if I saw his ex-wife?

My mother's cheerful humming floating up from the hallway only solidified my feelings of anxiety and despair. She wouldn't be so happy unless I had a reason to be so miserable. 

I wished Marie was here to guide me and give me advice. She was always my rock growing up and it killed me that I never got to see her and Jeremy regularly anymore. The day after my parents kicked her out, Mom was humming a cheerful song just like today. The unfairness of it all seemed so cruel. 

When I went to the homeless camp this week, I made up some excuse as to why Kaine wasn't with me. I didn't want to bother her with my feelings, I figured I was being too needy. She could probably tell something was up with me but didn't push it. 

The car ride to church dragged on forever and the stone in my stomach grew heavier. I couldn’t even tell if I was dying to see Kaine or didn’t want to see him at all. Everything in my body was twisted up with nerves. 

All I truly wanted was peace of mind-- for Kaine to tell me with absolute certainty if he wanted to keep seeing me or not. I just didn’t know if I’d be able to stomach the answer while at church. His pregnant ex-wife being thrown in the mix was just the cherry on top of my shit sundae.

We finally made it and filed robotically into the chapel, taking church programs from the girl at the door. I scanned over the paper a few times after realizing Kaine’s name wasn’t on it. He wasn’t speaking today. 

My heart deflated and in that moment I realized how much I missed him. I always loved hearing him speak, even if I was never sure if I could believe in God myself. He was always so passionate and articulate. He knew the Bible well and applied its teaching to real-world conflicts and situations in a way that was relatable. It didn’t matter if he was talking to Mr. Rich White Privileged or poor Carl who was down on his luck in the homeless camp. He had a way of relating to everyone.

The women’s choir was singing today. I scanned the list of names, registering my mom’s at the top. It was the closest she’d get to being in any kind of spotlight like she so desperately wanted. Another name stood out to me. 

Rachel Cross?

My heart crashed against my sternum. 

It could potentially be a coincidence, right? I tried to tell myself but knew in my heart that it wasn’t. This woman was undoubtedly Kaine's ex-wife and I would see her in the flesh in just a few short minutes. 

Or was she indeed his current wife? I had no idea what to believe anymore. 

The pipe organ started playing the first hymn and everyone finished shuffling into the chapel.

When the first speaker, a young missionary recalling his recent travels to Latin America, stepped up to the podium and began his talk, my eyes swept across the room for any signs of Kaine.

When I spotted him, my intestines drew into an even tighter knot and a fist clenched tightly around my heart. 

He looked grim. Leaning against one of the tall, arching doorways of the chapel, he kept his hooded eyes on the speaking missionary. It looked like he barely slept in a week. 

Despite looking pale and sleep-deprived, he looked as immaculate as ever and my whole body yearned for him. 

Dressed in his usual dark slacks and crisp, white dress shirt, his blond hair was adorably tousled as if he forgot to brush it that morning. He chewed his lower lip, which would have looked thoughtful if he didn't look so run down.

His head suddenly turned and his gaze captured mine as if he could feel me watching him. I wanted to tear my eyes away but couldn't if I tried. 

His expression changed but I couldn't read it from the distance of where I sat. Was it longing, pain, heartache? Or some sick satisfaction of having a wife, a child on the way, and a younger woman to mess around with?

My nervousness and longing turned into anger. 

How dare he.

How fucking dare he treat me like this, avoiding me all week with no explanation while knowing I'd be at church with my family today. Not even a cursory heads-up that his wife would be singing in the same room. 

Did it stroke his ego to have two women he fucked in the same room? 

Just as suddenly as he looked at me, he looked away and turned to leave the chapel. I would have missed him if I blinked.

I stood abruptly, fully intending to march after him and demand a straight answer. I at least deserved that much. 

But a cold hand clamped around my wrist and stopped me from moving. 

"Where do you think you're going?" my dad hissed under his breath. 

"To the bathroom," I lied.

"Can't you wait? The choir is about to start. Your mother will know if you miss her song." 

I blinked. Of all the times he had ample opportunity, now was when he decided to give a shit and not be a useless robot?

"I... really need to go," I insisted. "I'll be right back." Although I had no intention of doing so if things went my way.

"Hold it," he snapped, letting go of my wrist and pointing to my seat. "We are both going to listen and support your mother."

How funny. She would never do the same for you. 

Seeing I had no other choice, I sat back down and crossed my arms in front of my chest petulantly. 

As the missionary wrapped up his talk and the choir members filed onto the stage, I spotted my mother chatting excitedly with another woman. It was hard to tell with the loose choir robes, but the woman had a slightly protruding belly. 

The woman was pretty with red hair and green eyes. She looked to be in her mid to late twenties and didn't seem to be overweight in her face and arms. More than likely, her belly was sticking out due to pregnancy.

Which meant she could only be one person. 

Rachel fucking Cross. 

I felt sick to my stomach as my mom threw an arm around her shoulders like they were best friends. 

She knew I'd be watching, and that I knew who that woman was. 

It dawned on me that she told Dad to insist on me staying and watching. Like the blind fool he was, he agreed. 

Fuck. The knife in my gut just twisted deeper. It wasn't even enough that Rachel was in the same room as me. Mom enjoyed making me miserable so much, she had to rub my face in it even more. 

I couldn't even pay attention to the words of the song. My stomach threatened to lose my breakfast and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. It was all I could do just to keep it together.

Mom's eyes never left me as she sang and clapped her hands from the stage. She wanted to see me cry. She wanted this to break me. In her sick, twisted mind, I probably deserved this punishment.

I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Even as my heart unraveled layer by layer, I fought and gripped the edge of my chair to keep my composure. 

Somehow I made it through the end of the song. 

As soon as it was over, I jumped out of my seat as if it were on fire. I don't know if my dad called after me to come back or not. Blood pounded in my ears as I speed walked out of the chapel and down the hallway toward the offices and activity rooms. 

Adrenaline made me feel like I flew through Kaine's door without knocking. I couldn't afford to hesitate or wait anymore. 

Sitting, waiting, thinking. All of it was torturous. I needed answers. He owed me that much. 

To my relief, he was alone in his office. 

"What the hell, Kaine?" I cried in a pained voice. 

He stood from behind his desk the moment I burst through the door, looking startled from the noise but otherwise unsurprised. 

"Maggie." 

He said my name with a groan. I couldn't tell if it was one of pain or pleasure. Maybe a bit of both.

"What the hell?" I demanded again. No other question seemed to articulate the bruising on my heart. 

"Maggie, I'm so sorry." 

He came around the desk and pulled my head into his chest. I wanted to scream, to pull away, and hit him in my pain and frustration. I wanted to be strong and demand an answer. But in his arms, I could only melt into his warmth and his strength.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated against my forehead. "I should have told you but didn't want you to get involved. She's trying to blackmail me but I've gotten a lawyer. Everything will be okay, beautiful."

I pulled my head out of his chest to peer up at him. Those eyes that mirrored mine were wide and sincere. They begged me to believe him as he tenderly stroked the tears off my cheeks. 

I did believe him. But I still had to know.

"The baby?" I said in a small voice. 

"It's not mine," he said seriously. "Who knows who knocked her up while we were separated. My lawyer is ensuring we get a paternity test too. She's off her rocker and it'll be an easy case."

"Why didn't you tell me anything?" I demanded. "Why did I have to find out from my mother that she was even back here?" 

His fingers wound themselves into my hair and gripped possessively. I felt the gentle sting from my scalp all the way to my pussy. This was not a time to be turned on but my body couldn't seem to help itself around him. 

"She threatened to expose us," he said, barely above a whisper. "I guess people have been talking. I could lose my job if the Deacon finds out about us. But most of all, I didn't want to give her a reason to hurt you."

"Just being in the same room as her kills me," I admitted. 

"Fuck, my love. I'm so sorry." His voice cracked with emotion. "I just didn't know what to do. I need you but I need this job for just a little longer. For... our future." 

Before I could open my mouth to respond, to ask him if he really meant that and let the warm glow of happiness fill my body, a voice called from the doorway.

"Well isn't this a picture perfect moment!" 

Then a bright flash and the sound of a camera shutter.