NOT YOURS TO LOSE, EX-HUSBAND

Roxanne's POV

I stare at my reflection for the second time, pressing down the invisible creases on my long black dress. The back has a low plunge, reaching my waist. Reese used to love it in the first year of our marriage. I wonder if he'll notice tonight, or of that part of me is buried with the rest of what he used to love.

When I step out of our room, I hear laughter coming from down the stairs. I stop and frown. My chest pinches, the ache raw and familiar. Rese didn't say anyone was coming with us.

"Do you remember the gold bracelet you got me the last time you were home?" It is a high-pitched tone, honey-sweet. Female. Too comfortable and familiar.

"Yeah," Reese, my husband, responds. "You were all pissed that I left home in the first place, that I knew I had to pacify you when I returned. Now, look who is here."

"Right!"

Their laughter float into the air again, just as I reach the base of the stairs. Her perfectly manicured nails are splayed on his shoulders, and her blonde hair, as always, is styled to perfection.

Camilla St. James.

The ghost in our marriage.

"Oh!" She stops when she sees me, but a part of me knew she must have heard the door close when I got out of the room. "Hi, Roxanne. How are you doing today? Oh my God! You look really exquisite tonight! Love how that dress looks on you."

Compliment dipped in poison.

"Thank..."

"But don't you think the plunge behind is too low?" She slides her nails from Reese's shoulders to his forearm, pinching him slightly. "I don't know. Maybe it is what you like, and if that is the case, then you are free to wear whatever you want. Of course, as long as my best friend is fine with it."

And then, she turns to face him. "Are you fine with it, Reese?"

Reese used to trace that plunge with his mouth. First year love. First year lies.

Camilla's smile is as sharp as claws. "Too low for a married woman, don't you think?"

Heat flares up on my cheeks and suddenly, the plunge feels like a noose, wrapped tightly around my neck. The dress doesn't feel elegant anymore.

Say, nothing, Roxanne. Don't give them a show.

I squeeze my fingers so tight that my wedding band imprints a moon into my skin.

"Actually..." My husband angles his head as he regards me. He leans back a little and then sighs, like he is the victim here. "I think I see what Camilla is saying. Everyone can see the plunge even without you turning around. Doesn't exactly paint the best of reputations for a married woman."

Of course, Reese will take her side. My marriage vows must have come with fine print that states "includes one mistress disguised as a best friend."

"But you used to..." My words die as my husband glares at me.

"I don't love it anymore, Roxanne!" He snaps suddenly, cracking the air. "Can't I change what I like?"

The dress, me, everything...discarded with one sentence. My chest aches. Can love really vanish this fast, or has it been gone all along?

"Don't yell at her, Reese," Camilla croons, patting his back like he is some stray she found on the street. Like I'm the outsider here. "She is your wife and was only trying to make you happy. Excuse her honest mistake."

"This is the person you told me I should stay away from," Reese says to me, disappointment dripping from his tone. "You should be grateful instead that she is my best friend because she is the greatest support you will ever have. Do any of your friends stand up for you this way?"

None of my friends stand up for me, but it is because I have zero friends, except for those who still force their way into my life despite how I don't have the time for them.

And I don't have time because of Reese. All of my life has revolved around him since we got married, and now, I don't even know who I am anymore outside of him. I gave them all up for him. For us.

And now, there is no us.

Camilla pushes her hair behind her ears in coy shyness. "You don't have to tell her that, Reese," she says, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder. "Now, you have gotten me all shy and flustered."

"The color looks good on you, and maybe you need it with how pale you've been getting recently."

The scene plays out in front of me like a record of an old movie I am yet to come to terms with. Reese nudges his head in the direction of the stairs stretched out behind me.

"Change into something more decent," he orders. We will be waiting for you in the car."

"We?" A sharp pain lurches at me.

He has already turned around, with Camilla still clinging to his side. But my question makes him halt.

"What is it again, Roxanne?" He sounds like I am disturbing him, like he would rather be anywhere else but here, with me.

Okay. Maybe not exactly with me because his best friend is in the room. Since the moment Camilla arrived in Los Angeles, she has been spending more time than not with Reese.

They practically go everywhere together, while I am left indoors, cooking a meal that I won't eat because Camilla has a special diet and doesn't eat the meals I eat.

And I have a feeling that the same thing is about to happen.

"Is someone else coming with us?" I ask, keeping my tone low. Reese hates it when I yell. "I thought you said it was going to be just us. I was supposed to be your date to the cocktail dinner."

"Oh! Don't be stingy, Roxanne," he mocks, like I am a child refusing to share candy. "You know Camilla has no friends here in Los Angeles. I am the only one she knows. I can't let her be by herself tonight."

"But you told me..."

"It's fine," Camilla whispers, shaking her head. She looks up at me with a sad smile. "I totally understand you, Roxanne. You and Reese deserve your alone time, and I shouldn't ruin that. I'll just return to the hotel and binge-watch a series."

"No! You're not doing that!" Reese glares at me. "All you had to do was to be understanding just for tonight. You know she's ill, Roxanne. If you can't set aside your selfish desires for one night, how on earth do you plan on doing that for your own child?"

"Reese," Camilla drawls. "I've told you not to use her childlessness against her."

Then, she turns to me.

"Don't worry, Roxanne," she says sweetly. "The fact that you don't have a child yet after three years of marriage..."

She pauses, then her face stretches into a smile. "...doesn't mean you are barren. I'll be in the car then so you guys can talk this out."

When she skips out, I face Reese. "You know what? She might as well live here!" I mutter, meaning every word. For the first time in weeks, since Camilla's arrival, I don't swallow it back.

His eyes light up suddenly. "Now that I think about it, that doesn't sound like a bad idea at all."

Roxanne's POV

It's supposed to be a party, but I don't feel very festive. The lights are too bright, the music too loud. And definitely not with Camilla and Reese sitting across the table, giggling about something. She has her hands wrapped around his neck, and he is leaning in close so he can hear her above the music.

The way he used to lean into me.

"This is nice," someone at the table says, bringing his glass to his lips. I think he is one of the investors at Reese's company. A company I poured years of my life into, but only his name glows on the letterhead.

"Congratulations on bagging this grand contract once again, Mr. Beaumont."

Cheers erupt on the table, and glasses clink. I raise mine to join them, desperate to fit the image of the proud wife, because I am truly proud of him. But Reese shoots me a sharp look, shaking his head insistently.

"Alcohol kills chances," Reese announces, like a public service. Heads turn in my direction, watching. He isn't warning me because he cars. He is trying to tell the whole room that he controls me. He is branding me.

And that's rich, coming from him who is already on his third glass of vodka.

Camilla brings her hands to his thighs as she snaps her other fingers for attention. "I read about it in one of my wellness magazines. Remember, Reese, because of my ..."

"I do," Reese replies gently, edging her on. "The doctor listed a bunch of things alcohol causes, and infertility was the first on the list."

The only other woman at the table tilts her head at me. "How long have you been trying, honey?"

The room stirs as her seemingly innocent question gets me even more stares. I can see the sympathy in their eyes. It stings.

"Long enough." I get on my feet, the chair scraping against the ground. "I am going to get a soda." It is either that or I drown from humiliation at this table.

"Roxanne, that is no way to talk to our investor's wife," Reese scolds, jumping to his feet as well. He has a growing frown on his face as he looks at the lady with apology in his eyes.

Apology that instantly turns to rage when he regards me again. "Apologize now, Roxanne."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, grabbing my purse and walking away. I can hear Reese behind me, about to give me another lecture on how to behave in public so people don't think up the ludicrous idea that our marriage has a problem.

Because it doesn't. At least, not to my husband.

But he hasn't gone far away from the table when Camilla suddenly yelp. I turn around when I hear the sound of a glass breaking, just in time to catch my husband running back to her with urgency.

"Oh my God! Camilla!" Worry slips through his lips, and it is so easy to place the distinction between how he treats me and her. "What happened? I was only gone a couple of seconds."

She clutches onto the table for balance as her feet threaten to give up under her. A weak heroine in a stage play. Her hair is slightly in disarray now, almost like she intentionally fell hard enough to create that image.

"I was going... to go after you and ... Roxanne," she pants, using her other hand to hold onto her chest. "I didn't... I didn't want you both to fight because of... of what I said."

I swear, if she holds on to her chest one more time, I might just drag her into the ET myself, but not for the reasons she wants.

"You know you are ill," my husband sighs, helping her up like porcelain. She leans into him, her lips slightly parted and her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. "You shouldn't push yourself, Camilla. You need rest. Do you want to go home?"

She shakes her head at once. "The hotel is boring and I don't want to be there without you."

"No, silly!" Reese pinches her chin playfully. "You are coming home with us."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes find me, feigning guilt. "Does your wife..."

I allow the rest of her words to drown under the music as I continue my journey to the bar. Now, I not only have to suffer through outings with Camilla sitting right next to my husband, where I should be.

I also have to put up with her living in my home.

How splendid!

By the time I reach the bar, I've already swallowed the bitter truth. Not only is Camilla stealing my place beside my husband in public, she is also moving into my home.

"Long day?" A stranger leans on the counter beside me as I wait for my soda. I do not turn to look at him.

"Nothing worse can happen."

"Don't be so sure," he chuckles. I can hear a bass undertone. "I once thought that after a horrible day, until I walked right into my door on my way to my room in the night and ended up with a concussion. It kept me awake all night."

It doesn't bring a smile to my face. "Well, try not to walk into doors tonight."

The bartender slides my soda over. "Do you want to mix it with something stronger?"

I shake my head, grabbing the can with an appreciative smile.

"Driving?"

The stranger is still here. I steal a glance.

Blue eyes.

"No. I guess I'm not really feeling very excited."

"You are at a party!" He says exasperatedly. "Come alive. Take risks. You can order a ride home if you're too inebriated to drive, just in case you are here alone. I'm sure the person who won this contract is doing the same thing."

The question in his words is very audible.

"Doctors are of the opinion that alcohol reduces the chances of fertility."

I can't believe I just said that to a total stranger. But worse, it bothers me more that I found nothing else to rescue me other than Camilla's and Reese's sickening words.

"Just for a night?"

"Yes." I turn around to walk away. "At least, my husband thinks so."

"Oh!" I hear him chuckle behind me. "Married. Got it. Although I have to admit that that has never stopped me."

Ignoring how that makes me feel, I arrive at the table, sighing when I meet Reese and Camilla still here.

"There you are," Reese says, relief wrapped in irritation. "We need to leave."

I stop. "Why?"

"Camilla is feels sick. She thinks she is about to throw up. Let's get her home."

Home. Our home.

"Move it, Roxanne!" My husband barks, lifting her in his arms and heading towards the door. "Grab her bag and shoes on your way out."

Roxanne's POV

"Roxanne, how long does she have to wait?" Reese asks, sauntering into the kitchen where I am bent over the stove, still in my dinner dress, my hair tied up in a knot.

It is past midnight now. My body wails for sleep.

"Roxanne? I'm talking to you."

I turn around, the cooking spoon trembling in my hand. "She asked for wild rice with feta-stuffed bell peppers, along with grilled lamb chops, and fresh mint sauce. That takes over an hour."

"You've been at it for almost two hours," Reese shoots back, then stops. "Don't tell me you are intentionally taking your time just to spite Camilla. She is..."

"Sick! I know!" My voice cracks. "It's all I've heard since she got here. She is pretending, and you are not seeing it."

"There we go again." My husband rolls his eyes and grabs his keys from the kitchen island. "You are just so caught up in your jealousy that you are refusing to see past it."

"Reese..." I cross the space, my hands laying on his chest, pleading. But my skin burns when he steps back, letting my hands fall uselessly.

"Camilla has been my friend for more than twenty years. We grew together and know basically everything about each other. Should I have turned her away when she called for help?"

"That is not what I am saying, Reese." My voice drops as I cross the space to place my hands on his chest. But he steps back in that moment, allowing them to fall limply to my side.

"So, what are you saying? That you will intentionally sabotage her meal even when you know it's what she really needs right now?"

I feel like I'm running insane. Am I doing something wrong? Am I the cruel one here?

"I am in the kitchen, aren't I?" My whisper borders on frustration mixed with the need to be heard. "Honey..."

He sighs, his voice laden with false devotion. "I am just so worried about her, Roxanne. She used to be so healthy and now... I can't leave her like this. I have to do everything that I can to ensure she's better, and she needs to know that she is loved. Can you just do that for me?"

"Okay," I breathe. "I'll take the food to her. It's almost ready."

"Great. I am going to get some drugs from the pharmacy nearby. I shouldn't be long, but just in case I am, keep Camilla company while she eats. She doesn't like doing that alone."

I let the complaint die on my tongue and nod instead, watching as my husband walks out. Moving mechanically, I get the dishes ready, having to take them up the stairs one after the other since she has insisted on eating in the bedroom.

Reaching her door, I knock at first, waiting for her help because my hands are all full carrying two huge trays. When she doesn't answer, I bend, using my chin to twist the handle.

Just as the door pushes open, one of the trays topples from my hand, and the lamb chops fall to the floor in a clatter. My hands still shake from the weight of the tray.

Camilla looks up from the bed, where she's scrolling through her phone. She doesn't even look sick. She looks hungry instead. Her perfume is sweet and thick, and it finds its way to my mouth, cloting.

"You can't even do this right," she sneers. "Look at all the mess you made. There's mint sauce everywhere. And do you know how expensive it is to make this food? Or you just waste the ingredients because you have them in the pantry?"

I swallow the pain. If I apologize, she'll eat me next.

"Camilla!" I am really trying to understand here. I am. "I have been in the kitchen for almost two hours, slaving away just to satisfy your demands, and this is what you say?"

She rises from the bed slowly, looking at me like I'm delusional. Her smile cuts, as sharp as glass.

"Did you expect me to hand you an applause or something? I know Reese pays for every single thing in this house, including those clothes you have on. And you weren't even with him when this all started, when he worked out his ass to be where he is today."

I shake my head, desperate. "The Beaumont Enterprise is only what it is right now because of me. Reese cannot deny how helpful I have been in growing his business."

Her laughter slices through me, thin and raw. It strikes me in the chest so hard that I rock in my steps.

"What good has ever come out of you?" She rises from the bed and takes a step in my direction. "Roxanne, you seem to forget that you cannot even carry a baby in your womb. How on earth do you want to..."

Her words carve deeper than any blade and suddenly, the only thing I see is red.

I don't know how it happens, but my hands fly fast in the air, landing on her face. Camilla shrieks like a teenager and grabs the plate on the other tray, flinging it straight at my stomach.

It hits me. Hard.

The tray drops from my hand, just as the pain starts to fill the entirety of my being.

"Serves you right," she whispers, kicking me on the same spot. My hands try to protect my frame, but they end up getting hurt as well. "Next time, know your place and be the nice little wife that you are."

I gasp, agony choking me.

Just then, I hear Reese coming up the stairs at the same time as Camilla. She pushes away from me and plops back on the bed, suddenly screaming. Reese starts running, pushing the door open and almost hitting me in the process.

"Roxanne!" He comes to my side, where I writhe. "What happened to you?"

"It hurts," I wail, holding on tight to my stomach. "It hurts terribly."

"She's pretending!" Camilla moans, her fingers on her temples. "Reese, your wife hates me, and I don't know what else to do to get her to like me."

Reese gets on his feet, rushing over to her side. "What happened? Is your migraine back?"

"Roxanne tried poisoning me." She presses her head against his chest. "I don't know what she made, but it tasted awful. And now, I feel funny."

"Shit!" He turns to me. "Roxanne, you promised!"

I don't remember promising anything, but does that even matter now?

"I need to get you to the hospital," he murmurs, picking Camilla off the bed. "You should clean this up before we get back, Roxanne. And pray that nothing fundamental has happened to her because of what you cooked."

I can barely hear a word my husband says as the pain threatens to pull me under, but I surely hear his footsteps down the stairs, Camilla in his arms.