Chapter Forty-One
“I cannot believe him. What an asshole. Douchebag. Arrogant piece of—”
“Language!” I glare at Piper across the picnic blanket. “Little ears,” I tack on, immediately disgusted at myself for saying the phrase out loud. It’s a favorite the moms at the girls’ school use entirely too often.
“So, he like—” Piper shoves a lock of balayaged shoulder-length hair behind her ear where a large gold earring dangles. “Just took her into his room?”
The plastic cup in my hand contains cheap wine from the pool snack shop, and I sip the overly sweet liquid, putting off answering her. I thought coming clean to Piper about part of what’s going on would help in some way; instead, I’m annoyed at her too.
“Mama, pool?” Evie asks, eyes full of hope.
“Of course, baby. Here, wear your hat.” I settle an oversized sun visor on her head, do the same for Eliza, and as they go to splash in the little kids’ pool—a foot deep at most—I clean up wrappers from our improvised picnic lunch.
The healthy items I brought, like carrot sticks and veggie straws, were no match for the Pringles and ice-cream sandwich Piper bought them when she insisted we have wine.
Your husband cheated on you. Drinking is required, she’d said.
And honestly, she was right. But I’m far more in the mood to do the sort of drinking that happens in a shitty bar where no one will recognize you than at the Heights Pool, a private club with fancy swim lessons from junior Olympians, wine on tap, and lifeguards who may or may not have been hired because of how they look in a red Speedo.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, he took her into his room.” I crumple up a napkin, put the lid on the can of chips, studiously rearrange things on the blanket.
It would have been better to kill him while we were still in San Diego.
I could have made it look like an accident, and then Piper would be comforting me about becoming a widow instead of the woman scorned.
Though if the police had discovered I’d also been in California—and they would have—I undoubtedly would have been a prime suspect.
I pause long enough to look across the grassy expanse to the pool where the girls splash, shrieking with delight as they take turns climbing out and jumping in.
Everything I do has to be about them from now on.
Every thought, every decision. Losing their father will not be easy, but I’ll make sure they get through it—make sure I get through it. Somehow.
“I’m going to call my friend—she just went through a divorce, and she got everything. And boy howdy, do I mean everything. The house in Aspen, the—”
“Did you just say ‘boy howdy’?”
“Shut up.” Piper stabs at her phone. “Anyway, I’ll get her lawyer’s number.
Oh, speaking of…” Piper lowers her heart-shaped sunglasses far enough to cock an eyebrow at me.
“Do you need help money-wise? I know you combined finances. If he’ll notice the cash is gone when you hire someone, or if you want to do it quietly… ”
It takes me a moment to summon words. Piper is notoriously stingy with money, which is one reason she’s so successful. “I have money. My…business account. It’s separate.” But I’m touched that she’d offer.
“Your phone is ringing,” Piper says.
I look down, and sure enough, the screen is lit up, though the glare from the Texas sun makes it blinding to look at it. Stepping under the shade of a tree, I squint to find Brian’s name there.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Language!” my sister snickers between sips of wine.
I sigh, decline the call, flop back down beside her, and take a long pull off the vino, only for my phone to beep at me, demanding my attention again.
“Who is it?” she asks, like she might throttle them for me.
“Who do you think?”
“It’s him?” She sits up, reaches for the device.
“No,” I snap. “You’ll ruin the element of surprise.”
She grins. “Surprise?”
I force a smirk to my mouth—anything to get her to leave it be—and nod. “Yes.”
“Now you’re talking.”
I check my messages to find Brian has sent two:
Brian: I’ll be home tomorrow!
Brian: Can’t wait to see you. I hated leaving again.
I type out a nasty message, imagine myself hitting send—then delete the whole thing and swipe to a different text thread as Piper gets up to join her nieces in the pool.
I pause long enough to watch her help Eliza with goggles, to see Evie giggle with a little boy around her age, to settle into this moment for just a breath or two, before my life is ruined.
I do wonder. If I’d been around more, been more attentive, paid closer attention, would I have caught this earlier…or headed it off altogether?
I’ll never know.
To Ian, I write: Home yet?
Ian: Just got in. I’ll be in Texas tomorrow, just need to take care of things here first.
A needle of guilt pricks me. He has a wife, a daughter. And still, he’s coming here, to help. He kissed me. I’m still not sure how to feel about that.
Ian: You doing okay? Need anything?
I snap a shot of the plastic cup of wine, the pool in the background. I’m good.
Ian: You’re at least very skilled at pretending to be good.
My nose scrunches up at his comment. What does that mean?
Ian: You’ll be happy again, Nadia. I promise.
Peering at the message, I wonder if he’s right. If I will be. If I’m capable of it after this. Or—another way to read it is that he’s promising he will make me happy. Which is a ridiculous sentiment. No one can make someone else happy, not really.
I’m not sure I’ll be content again, but I will be okay. And so will the girls. Just as soon as I say what needs saying, force Brian to answer my questions, and then kill him.
Ian: I’ll be in town late tomorrow.
It’s perfect timing. I’ll deal with Brian, and Ian will be there to help in the aftermath.
Returning to Brian’s message, I type out: When does your flight get in? I’m coming to pick you up.
Brian: 5:05 pm.
He adds a string of hearts, like he can’t wait to see me, his little wife. Like he’s not fucking someone else. Like he’s not arranging for people to be bought and sold like they are little more than office supplies or cattle.
Great, I write back. I have a surprise for you.