Chapter 4
That Heart-Stopping Moment in Winter
Erin
Out of breath, I clutched the stitch burning in my side, my other hand smacking at every button on the treadmill.
“Stop!”
Would yelling at the stupid thing work? It couldn’t hurt. Another jab, and the whirr finally slowed enough for me to snatch my phone without falling flat on my face. I’d already missed a call.
“H-hi,” I wheezed.
The playgroup teacher didn’t say hello. “Mrs. Easten, are you on your way?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “On my way…where?” I’d dropped off the cupcakes—home-baked, frosted, and nut-free, as requested. Had I forgotten something else? Matilda’s art smock? Maybe I’d left it in the dryer.
The teacher’s exasperation spilled out in a sigh. “Are you on your way to get Matilda?” The woman was a gem with children, but she had limited patience for parents. Still, there was a sharper bite to her voice than usual. “We finished almost half an hour ago. I need to close up.”
The thump of dance music and the women laughing on the treadmills next to me were so loud I couldn’t organize my thoughts. Why was the playgroup teacher calling me about pickup? Tonight was Daddy Daughter Wednesday—just like it had been every other Wednesday for the last six weeks.
“Isn’t my husband there?” I asked.
“No.”
“But…”
Frowning, I glanced at my watch. It was almost five o’clock.
Where the hell was Jeremy? His last appointment would’ve been scheduled at two.
Forty-five minutes to coach a person through their problems. Fifteen minutes to waste chatting to his receptionist about billing and tomorrow’s schedule. A ten-minute drive across town…
I could dash to the grocery store, have dinner in the oven, and wrangle Matilda from the bath and into her pajamas in under an hour. Jeremy should’ve walked past the painted fairies guarding the playgroup room doors no later than four o’clock.
“I tried calling Dr. Easten first,” the teacher said, “but I can’t keep waiting. How long will it take you to get here?”
I flung my towel over my shoulder. “I’m just down the road.” My sneakers squeaked as I raced to the lockers faster than I’d jogged on the treadmill. “Five minutes. Tell Til I’m coming.”
So much for proving my commitment to Jeremy. I’d spent more time signing up for the membership fob hanging off my keychain than breaking a sweat. He couldn’t blame me for giving up on this fitness crap after ten minutes if it was his fault…right?
I burst out of the gym into the crush of office workers choking the sidewalk. There was no point heading to the parking lot. Running down the block to the library would be quicker than battling Melbourne’s rush hour.
I glanced at my phone as I darted between dreary suits and briefcases. My message from that morning was the last contact I had with Jeremy.
Erin
I left your lunch in the fridge. Chicken salad on whole wheat. I know you said you’re watching your macros, but I promise the chocolate cake is healthy. It’s a vegan recipe I found online.
Have a great day xxo
Jeremy never responded. No “thank you” or “I love you.”
I dialed his number.
No answer.
Something had to be wrong. There was no way he could have forgotten.
Wednesday nights were for Jeremy and Matilda to spend time together.
It had been his idea. I caught up on housework, and they got milkshakes and manicures.
My little girl adored being pampered. Her “manicure” was a sugar scrub and a coat of clear glitter polish, but Jeremy lounged back and enjoyed the full service, even though he scoffed when his friends commented on his nails.
“The horrors I endure for my girls,” he’d laugh.
I redialed Jeremy’s number.
Still no answer.
Fear pushed me through the crowd with shaky, uneven steps. The crosswalk blinked red, but I didn’t stop. The traffic would have to wait for me. Darting looks between my phone, the road, and the sea of suits, I dictated a new message to Jeremy.
Erin
You ok? The playgroup teacher called and said you haven’t picked up Til. Please call.
Still nothing.
My palm pressed against the glass door of the library. I was inside, the shelves of picture books whizzing past. I tripped around the tables, already cleared of art supplies and puzzles, and waved frantically to Matilda’s teacher.
“Sorry!” I cried. “I’m so sorry!”
I didn’t want to see the teacher’s sympathetic smile or to imagine how much she was judging my marriage—or worse, me.
I headed straight for Matilda. She was strapping a baby doll into a pink stroller, but her singing paused when she heard feet pounding closer.
There was no cheeky grin for me. She swiped at her nose and took a big breath that hiked her tiny shoulders up to her ears.
The twisting in my chest was almost unbearable. Her daddy should never be the one to crush her spirit. He was the one man she should always be able to rely on. What would make this easier and protect her little heart?
I deepened my voice to bellow, “Who’s that over there I see? Why, if it isn’t Princess Matilda!”
She hid a giggle behind her hand.
I stomped my way over. “The sweaty troll from under the bridge is here to kidnap you!” I wrapped her in a hug and covered her with kisses.
A soft peck landed on my cheek. Sad brown eyes blinked at me, her bottom lip jutting out as she held up her hands.
“You were excited about your manicure?” I asked her.
She nodded.
With an exaggerated frown, I held out my hand and gave it a critical examination. “Can trolls get manicures?”
Biting back a smile, she nodded again.
“What about a milkshake? Can trolls have milkshakes?”
“Yeah!”
“Let’s go then!”
I ignored the clock. If I didn’t see the hand moving closer to 9.00 p.m., it wasn’t that late.
I paced the living room, my phone pressed to my ear. “Jeremy hasn’t responded in hours.” I was too proud to admit to Callan that my husband hadn’t responded to me all day.
“You tried calling him at work?” Callan asked.
“His receptionist said his last appointment finished just before three. He left on time.”
A rustle of movement carried through the line. “Something must have hap—oof.”
“Cal?”
The string of muffled curses was faint. He must have held the phone away. “Sorry,” he said. “I clocked my knee on a kitchen stool when I was grabbing my keys. If I get my ass moving, I can get to the airport—”
“You don’t need to do that!”
“I’m sure as hell not sitting around here if your husband is missing!”
“I’m probably just overreacting—” Headlights beamed through the front shutters. “Wait.” I raced to the window, bending over to peer through the white wooden slats. The familiar black sports car parked in the driveway, and the headlights flicked off.
“Ez?” Cal’s voice was cautious.
“Jeremy just pulled up.”
“He better limp out of that car with a pair of busted arms and legs.”
“He hasn’t gotten out yet.” I squinted. It was hard to see, but the blue glow on Jeremy’s face almost made my blood boil. “He’s messing around on his phone.”
“Strike one.”
The car door opened, and Jeremy’s wingtip shoes shone under the porch light when he stepped out. “No limping.”
“Strike two. Go sort him out. He better have a damn good explanation for what he’s put you through tonight.” Callan’s voice softened when he said, “Send me a message later so I know you’re okay. I’ll wait up.”
“Thanks, Cal.”
I paced in the front hallway waiting for Jeremy’s key to twist in the lock. The door opened.
“Well, look who it is,” I said.
Jeremy jolted back. “Jesus, Erin. What the fuck?”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You didn’t pick up Til from playgroup!”
He dumped his leather briefcase by the door. “It’s not like that uptight bitch would have left Matilda there on her own.”
“Jeremy! You can’t call the playgroup teacher a…a…”
“Have you met the woman?”
“She has her own life. And Til has a father. Where were you?”
His keys slid along the hall table after his careless toss missed the bowl. “I had something on.” He stalked past me.
“You had something on?” The memory of Matilda’s disappointment pitched up my voice, no matter how much I tried to stay calm. “What the hell is more important than picking up your daughter, Jeremy?”
“Something.”
Another round of Guess the Problem, was it? “You can’t be serious right now!”
“You said no details, remember?”
I reeled backward as if he’d punched me. “No… no…” I shook my head. This couldn’t be happening. “No…details?”
He flashed an annoyed look over his shoulder but didn’t respond as he shrugged off his suit jacket. Unfamiliar perfume burned my nostrils.
“We only talked about that a couple of nights ago,” I said. “And I never agreed to it! I joined the gym tonight. I’m trying! I didn’t expect you to…to…” I pressed my fist into my chest. I couldn’t breathe. “Jeremy, that’s…” The room spun around me. My hand flailed for the banister.
“I don’t have the energy for all your emotional shit tonight, okay? I put a roof over your head by listening to other people’s problems all fucking day. I shouldn’t have to put up with it when I get home, too.”
“But I’m… I’m your wife.”
“Look, I don’t want to do this right now. Tallulah rode my dick for fucking hours. I just want to take a shower and go to bed.”
Tallulah. “Who the hell is Tallulah?”
Jeremy pounded up the stairs.
“Who is she?”
Gone. Just like that. No answer.
I forced down a deep breath, the air struggling to reach my lungs. My legs were too wobbly to stay standing. I sank to the bottom step, fumbled in my pocket, and with shaky fingers, pulled out my phone. Callan would answer. I could rely on him.
“Ez?”
“C-Cal… Oh God… He…”
My words caught on jagged breaths. I couldn’t breathe.
Family photos lining the wall above the stairs swam in a stream of muddled colors.
I slumped against the banister. I should have fought harder for counseling.
If I’d signed up for the gym when Jeremy had dropped the hint weeks ago instead of in a panicked frenzy when I was so stressed I hadn’t been able to remember my middle name, would Tallulah have been his choice tonight?
Yes.
I knew the answer was yes.
When did Jeremy fall out of love with me? When Matilda was born? Before that? Had he ever really loved me, or was it just the thrill of walking out of the bar with me the night we’d met instead of it being one of his friends? He’d found it so easy to throw away our marriage…
Callan filled the silence. “Your man was out exploring his options?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Oh, Ez…” There was a rough edge to his voice. “You okay?”
I pinched the skin of my wrist. Nothing. Numb. “I think I’m in shock.”
“I’m coming.”
“No!”
“There’s no way I’m letting you deal with that son of a bitch on your own.”
“The farm!”
“Screw the farm. It’ll be here next week. It’s a frigging farm. It’s not going anywhere.”
“And what about Mim and your dad? How will they cope if another Wolcott just disappears one night? I don’t need to worry about that on top of everything else.”
“Tell me what I can do, Ez.”
I tugged at my ponytail. My mind raced. I needed a day to get my head straight.
I needed to talk to my lawyer again and set up everything to protect Matilda’s future—and, selfishly, my own.
I’d supported Jeremy through his last years of medical training, and I’d loved him, even if he hadn’t truly loved me.
But I wasn’t sticking around to find out the name of the woman who came after Tallulah… or the one after her…
I took a deep breath. “What if we come to you?”