Would things have been different if I’d confronted him right then?
Would things have ended differently?
If I’d done so, would I still be sitting in prison telling this story?
I guess I’ll never know.
Before we’d begun eating, he stood up and walked to the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of wine, one I hadn’t noticed he’d stored in the back. “Did you have fun with your friend?” he asked, noticing me eyeing the bottle.
“My mom,” I corrected.
“Hmm?” He pulled a glass down from the cabinet and filled it quickly. “Do you want some?”
“It was my mom that I was meeting. Anyway, I didn’t end up going. And…no. No, thank you.”
He shrugged, shoving the cork back into the bottle, though we both knew he’d be back to finish it off before the meal ended. “Suit yourself.” It did no good to argue with him, try as I might. The sober man I’d married what seemed like just a few months before that was gone. The man that sat across from me now was practically a stranger.
“How was your day?” I asked as he took the first sip. I wondered how much he’d already had to drink throughout the day. It wasn’t long ago that I took a swig of his water bottle only to discover it was vodka he was taking to work with him. It was rare that he came home to me without the taste of alcohol on his lips, though he showed no signs of being drunk until he’d had a few glasses of his drink of choice at home.
“Fine,” he said, stabbing his fork into the plate of alfredo. “This looks great, babe.” He took a bite and nodded—to confirm, I supposed. “Actually, it was a shit day, if I’m being honest. My clients are,” he grimaced, his eyes going dark as he drifted off to think of them, “horrible people.”
“Do you have to represent them?” I asked mindlessly, twirling my fork in the noodles. Truth be told, my mind was on the letter still, and I had no extra capacity to take in what he was saying.
“’Course I do. Lyman doesn’t care about their character, he cares about their pockets. And their pockets run deep.” The wine glass was empty already, though I hadn’t been able to watch him drink most of it. “Something wrong?” he asked, one brow raised. It was almost a test. He thought the drinking was what was upsetting me, and he was waiting to see if I was going to say anything. As much as I wanted to, I knew it would do no good. Financially, working at Lyman and Associates was the best thing that could’ve happened to us. In every other aspect of our lives, it ruined us. He’d taken his first drink in years on his first day and never looked back. Still, I couldn’t let him believe any different. Not if my plan was going to work. He had to think I was only upset about his drinking.
“Sorry, no. I just…I’m not feeling very well. I think I’m going to go to bed.” I pushed the untouched plate of food away from me.
“You’ve hardly eaten any of your food. Even your salad. You aren’t getting a bug, are you?”
“I hope not,” I said, holding my stomach instinctively. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” he said, taking hold of my arm as I moved to pass him. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Mhm,” I said with a quick nod, hardly able to meet his eyes.
“Is this about the wine?” he pressed.
“No, honestly. I just…I’m not feeling well.”
“You know I’m not going to let it control me,” he assured me. It was a false promise if I’d ever heard one, but I couldn’t argue. “It’s different than before.”
Again, I nodded, pulling my arm from his grasp. “I know. It’s not that, honest.”
“Okay,” he said finally. “Just one glass tonight, I promise.” He stood, kissing my forehead. “Can’t afford to catch it,” he explained. “Are you okay if I stay down here and work for a bit?”
“Yes,” I said, secretly relieved. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep quiet around him as my body remained on edge and ready to attack. Every time I’d stabbed my fork into my kale, I’d done so with a little extra force just to relieve the tension within myself. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He squeezed my hand and, for just a second, I saw the man I’d fallen in love with. There was a kindness in his eyes that took me back to the early days of our relationship where there was only happiness and the cracks hadn’t begun to show. Now, there seemed to be only cracks.
Chapter Ten
Her
I felt his lips brush my head, heard him telling me that he was leaving and that he’d see me later, but my eyes would barely open. It was as if saying I was sick had caused my immune system to get on board.
When I heard the bedroom door open and shut again, I opened my eyes. The clock on the nightstand showed that it was just past six. I sat up in bed and shook the covers off my legs, looking around. I searched my brain for memories from the day before—had it all been real? Was I really going to go through with the plan?
The sound of his car’s engine starting up rang through the cracked window to my left, and I went into action. I pulled the ponytail holder from my wrist and tied my hair up into a quick, messy bun, glancing in the mirror just briefly enough to wipe the dark makeup from under my eyes. Next, I threw on a pair of jeans from the hamper I’d discarded the day before and a clean t-shirt from my drawer. I swiped on fresh deodorant and pushed a piece of mint gum in my mouth. It would have to do—I didn’t have much time.
I pulled on sneakers as I rushed down the stairs and grabbed my purse and keys before I rushed out the door and into the garage. It was only a one-car, so we parked mine inside and kept his on the outside. He claimed it was because he wanted to be chivalrous, but I always suspected he didn’t like the idea of my trusty Hyundai being parked on the curb where the neighbors couldn’t get a good look at his Lexus. I climbed into the front seat and pushed the button to open the garage door, the sunshine reflecting in my rearview mirror and causing me to squint until I could locate my sunglasses.
I never thought I’d be the type of wife to trail my husband around, keeping track of his whereabouts. I’m not jealous, and I’m by no means a worrier, but something in the pit of my stomach was screaming something wasn’t right. I had to trust that.
I turned out of our subdivision a few minutes later and hit the highway. I knew his route to work, so he should’ve only been a bit ahead of me. I weaved in between cars, trying to get an eye on him. For a moment, I worried I’d missed him, or that he’d chosen a different route. If that was the case, all of my planning would’ve been for nothing.
Luckily, as I reached a stoplight, I caught a glimpse of him about six cars ahead in the lane to my right. I felt my shoulders relax slightly. So far, so good. Now to just make sure I wasn’t caught.
I kept my distance behind Mark as we drove through midtown traffic and headed for his office building. Luckily, his office downtown meant there’d be plenty of parking options and plenty of places to stay hidden. He pulled into the parking garage that we paid a small fortune per month for him to use, and his car disappeared. I turned left at the next street and pulled into a nearly full parking lot, advertising a rate of just seven dollars for the full day—thank God it was a weekday or the price would be triple that. I pulled cash from my pocket and fed it into the machine, fighting with a few stubborn bills. When the gate’s arm lifted to allow me passage, I sped through and pulled into the last remaining spot on the edge of the lot, giving me an only partially obstructed view of the office building.