Chapter 4: Bare Minimum
949 Words
Jason was already dialing as he walked away from the car.
“Yeah, I need a car at the Grandview Hotel. Twenty minutes.”
He opened the door and stepped out into the night without looking back.
I sat frozen in the back seat, my hands trembling.
The driver returned a moment later, glancing at me in the rearview mirror with a look of pure pity.
“Home, Mrs. McCoy?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
***
The house was dark and empty when I arrived.
I kicked off my heels in the foyer and walked upstairs, my feet aching and my heart heavier.
I went to our bedroom, but the thought of sleeping in our bed made my stomach turn.
Instead, I grabbed a blanket and headed to the guest room down the hall.
I changed out of my gown, washed my face, and climbed into the unfamiliar bed. The silence pressed down on me like a weight.
An hour later, I heard the front door open.
Jason’s footsteps moved through the house.
I heard him pause outside the guest room door.
He knew I was there. It was our routine after every fight.
For a moment, I thought he might knock. But then his footsteps continued down the hall.
Our bedroom door opened. Then closed.
I stared at the ceiling. I wanted him. I needed him. But my pride would not let me go to him.
After all, I was right, and he was wrong.
Or wasn't I?
***
I woke up to my phone buzzing nonstop.
The headlines were a nightmare.
“McCoy's Wife Left Hanging: Anna's Awkward Red Carpet Moment”
“Did Jason McCoy Just Shade His Wife on Live TV?”
“Anna McCoy's Face Says It All: Trouble in Paradise?”
I clicked on one article, and there it was. A photo of me standing alone while Jason hugged Carly.
The look on my face was unmistakable. Hurt, betrayal, humiliation.
The comments were even worse. People were laughing at my public humiliation.
I scrolled through comment after comment.
“She deserves better.”
“It’s giving bare minimum. ‘Thanks for nothing, wifey.’”
“Poor Anna. You can see it in her eyes.”
Then I saw the comment that struck me the most.
“I heard she's the brain behind his empire. Now his secretary takes the glory. Don’t give up your dreams for a man, ladies. #girlpower”
My heart sank.
This was exactly my life.
All those years, leaving my dreams of pursuing architecture to help build his massive hotels. I felt truly angry with myself.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
“Who is it?” I asked, my voice dry and coarse.
“It’s me. Jason.”
I walked to the door, my silk gown clinging to my skin as I prepared for a fight.
But when I opened it, the rage died.
Jason was standing there with a breakfast tray.
Scrambled eggs, toast, fresh berries, and a small vase with three red roses.
Two scented candles sat in the corner, already lit.
“Can I come in?” he asked calmly.
“Yes,” I replied, stepping aside.
He set the tray down and turned to me.
“Hey, beautiful. I made breakfast.”He lifted my chin gently. “Let’s eat together.”
I didn’t know what to think. I wanted to pick a fight.
Because what kind of bare minimum apology was this?
But I was tired.
If this was all he could do in the name of romance, then I would take it.
We sat side by side on the bed.
I let him feed me a strawberry, his fingers brushing my lips. My body softened instantly, and my thoughts with it.
Maybe I did overreact.
Maybe this wasn't really a bad way to say sorry.
He poured my juice, his hand creeping onto my thigh.
“You look even more beautiful in the morning,” he said.
I smiled, wanting to believe him.
He reached for my face, leaning in for a kiss.
We were so close, our lips almost touched.
Then his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted instantly.
“Hold on,” he said, standing up. “I need to take this.”
He walked out to the balcony and slid the glass door shut behind him.
I sat on the bed, my heart starting to race.
I was curious. I wanted to know what was so important he couldn't even finish breakfast with me.
I stood up and walked toward the glass. I could see him pacing.
His voice dropped to a near whisper, but I could still hear through the frame.
“Yeah, I can hear you,” he said.
He sounded more relaxed than he had with me.
“The reservation at eight. No, the private room. Make sure they have the wine I like.”
My breath hitched.
A private dinner?
Was he planning a surprise for us?
“And the flowers,” Jason continued. “White roses, not red. Perfect.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to Vera myself.”
“Alright. Thanks for handling this. I know it’s last-minute.”
He paused, and his voice went even softer. A tone he had not used with me in years.
“Bye, Carly. See you tonight.”
The call ended.
My world was spinning. White roses for Vera, a private room, and a “see you tonight” for his secretary.
Were the red roses on my breakfast tray just a bribe to keep me quiet?
Jason turned around and saw me through the glass door.
He froze.
- Writer
