Read Online The Year We Turned Forty by Liz Fenton - Free Book Online Page A

her. Why couldn’t she remember anything and why had Gabriela and Claire left her? “I need my iPhone please—it has a polka-dot case and a screensaver of my twin daughters in the stands at a UCLA football game. And where is my purse? It had my wallet and my iPad in it.”
    Cindy gave her a quizzical look. “I’m not sure what you mean by an eye phone, but if you want to make a call, there’s a phone right next to you on the table. And as for eye pads, I can get you a cloth to remove your mascara.”
    Jessie laughed. “Okay, is this some kind of joke? I said iPad not eye pads? You know, the tablet? Apple?”
    Cindy bit her lower lip and thought for a moment. “Why don’t you wait for the doctor and we’ll get this all sorted out,” she offered, and watched Jessie finally swallow the pills. She would have done anything to make the pounding behind her temples stop. “I want him to take a quick look at you.”
    â€œJess? I didn’t realize you were awake,” Grant said as he walked into the room, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “Did I hear you talking about Steve Jobs?”
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” Jessie asked, ignoring his question. “Oh God, you’re still on my emergency contact list . . .” Jessie trailed off as another tear escaped from her eye, rolling over the side of her nose. Mortified that her ex-husband had to come bail her out, she wanted to crawl under the covers and disappear, suddenly sickened by her inability to move forward, at her naïveté last night. Tomorrow she was going to start therapy. Claire had a psychologist she swore by—she’d get her number. She was going to get over Grant finally .
    â€œYou doing okay?” Grant perched on the edge of the bed as he widened his eyes at the nurse and Jessie felt something familiar about the moment, as if she were experiencing déjà vu. “The girls want to see you, but I told them to wait with my mom.”
    â€œThey didn’t need to come home from college for this!”
    Grant squinted at her as if he didn’t understand what she’d just said.
    â€œI’ve called the doctor,” Cindy interrupted. “Your wife seems surprised she’s in the hospital. Keeps asking for her friends, Claire and—” The nurse stopped as if she was searching for the name.
    â€œGabriela,” Jessie and Grant said together.
    â€œShe’s asked for some things too. Tablets and eye pads?” Cindy continued as if Jessie wasn’t in the room.
    â€œEx-wife,” Jessie said, embarrassed by the nurse’s mistake. It had been a decade. And now he was marrying someone else. Janet would claim that title now. For years, it had been Jessie and Grant, Grant and Jessie. Now it would be Grant and Janet. She knew those words would never slip off her tongue easily, no matter how many therapy sessions she endured. The worst part? Jessie had a feeling Janet would never make the same mistakes she did—that she’d hold on to him tightly. If Grant didn’t want to have sex with her, she’d sit him down and work it out, not let it fester like a tumor.
    â€œI’m sorry, did you divorce me in your sleep or something?” Grant pressed his lips together, unsure whether to smile or frown. And as Jessie stared at him, she realized he had his hair— all of it . It was dark brown and full and slightly long around the ears, not gone . He wasn’t bald. And he was also softer around the middle—the way he used to be. As she eyed the fabric of his golf shirt stretching over his belly, it triggered a memory—she remembered the way it felt to wrap her arms around Grant’s doughy stomach, the way it cushioned her own imperfections. She had friends who complained about their husbands’ bodies—why couldn’t they go to the gym or play basketball? Jessie would always stay silent, bobbing her