Chapter 10
Dear Mrs. Roth,
I am following up on my previous correspondence with you. We are committed to resolving this matter amicably and expeditiously. If we do not hear from you in the next seven days, we will have to seek judicial intervention.
Sincerely,
Leonard Hardwick, Esq.
Well, Jeremy’s lawyer is now threatening me with a deadline.
Within seven days, I need to find a shark of my own, or else… I don’t know what “judicial intervention” means, but it doesn’t sound good. It sounds like something I would rather avoid.
I contemplate my next move as I sit on Jeremy’s mother’s flower-printed sofa, drinking a glass of cheap wine.
This is the sort of wine I would never have drunk during my marriage.
Our basement at home is actually a liquor cellar—containing bottles of expensive wine, fine whiskey, cognac, and aged rum.
I would have been happier with a playroom for Teddy.
Honestly, it all tastes the same to me. But I used to pretend differently when Jeremy and I went to wine tastings together.
Even though I found those events a bit pretentious, I used to have fun.
Jeremy enjoyed the wine more than I did, but he didn’t take it too seriously.
By the end of the night, both of us were always a little tipsy, which is why we would take an Uber back and forth, and on the ride back, we would make out in the back seat like teenagers.
We had a great marriage. Nobody could convince me otherwise. A few months ago, I would’ve sworn he loved me with all his heart. I don’t know what happened or what went wrong, and I don’t understand why he won’t talk about it.
Maybe he has a brain tumor? Or…what was that movie with the body snatchers?
I check my watch—a Cartier that was actually an anniversary present from Jeremy. It’s just before midnight. Teddy will be asleep, but Jeremy is a night owl and rarely goes to bed before one in the morning. This is the perfect time to talk in private.
I reach for my phone, but then I remember how our last discussion went. I have a bad feeling that if I call him, it’s not going to go any better.
But there’s nothing stopping me from driving over there.
For the first time in over five years, I don’t have a sleeping child in the house.
I can get in my car and drive over there now, and given that there will likely be nobody else on the road, I can be at the front door in fifteen minutes.
And then maybe Jeremy and I can finally talk this through.
Maybe I won’t have to come back to this awful apartment after that.
Before I can overthink it, I jump off the sofa and head for the bathroom.
There’s no time for a shower, but I run a brush through my auburn hair and apply some quick makeup—a bit of mascara and a dab of lipstick.
I change out of my oversize sweater into something a bit more formfitting.
My eyes are puffy from not sleeping well for the last couple of weeks, but when you’ve been married for several years, you have seen each other at your worst. For better or for worse, this is who I am.
It used to be enough.
I grab one of my jade crystals and drop it into my pocket for luck.
I swipe my purse, lock up the apartment, and jump into my Lexus.
I drive a bit too fast, partially because I’m anxious and partially because of the two glasses of wine I had to drink right before leaving.
I think I’m under the limit, but just in case, I drop my speed.
The last thing I need right now on top of everything is a DUI.
It’s half past midnight when I make it to the house.
It’s the first time I’ve been here since I found those packed suitcases waiting for me, and the sight of the house where I spent the last four years of my life is enough to make my chest ache, especially when I think of my little boy sleeping inside.
I park just down the street and walk the rest of the way.
The house is exactly as I remember it. Two stories, painted yellow but with a brick-red trim, and picture windows around the entire first floor.
But there is one thing about the house that is different.
Something that makes me stop in my tracks.
There’s a beige Jetta parked in the driveway.
I have never seen that car before in my life.
It certainly does not belong to anyone I know.
I glance over at the windows to the house, noticing that the first-floor lights are still on.
Jeremy is awake and clearly entertaining company.
I creep over to the Jetta, which I now notice has a substantial crack in the rear fender.
I peer through the driver’s side window, looking for a clue to the owner.
The car is empty though, except for a fast food soft drink in one of the cup holders.
Is that a lipstick stain on the straw sticking out of the drink? It’s so hard to tell in the dark.
I planned to knock on the front door to have a talk with my husband, but now I’m rethinking that.
There is obviously someone already in the house with him.
And I’m struggling to think of an innocent explanation for a visitor at nearly one in the morning.
Seems a little late for his divorce lawyer to be coming by.
But there’s no way I can leave here without taking a look. I need to see who is in this house.
I creep around the side of the house and locate a good spot to look through the window into the living room.
I crouch down, raising my head just enough to look over the lower rim of the window, which will give me a bird’s-eye view of the sectional sofa that we purchased only six months ago for an obscene amount of money. But when I raise my head to get a look…
There’s no one there. The living room is empty.
For about five seconds, I am relieved. I don’t see anyone on the first floor of the house, even Jeremy. He doesn’t have a woman entangled with him on the sofa while they watch television. Nobody is here. But then another thought occurs to me:
What if they’re upstairs in the bedroom?
Well, if they’re upstairs, there’s nothing I can do. Since he changed the locks, I don’t have a key to the house, so I can’t get inside. I’ll just have to go home. Unless…
There are several trees surrounding our property. Most of them have branches that get pretty close to the windows or at least provide a good view. I haven’t climbed a tree in a while, but I think if I could get a foothold on—
Oh wait. The front door is opening.
I quickly abandon the plan that would have almost certainly resulted in me breaking a leg or worse.
Jeremy must have been with his visitor in the foyer, which as far as I’m concerned seems like a good sign.
Perhaps it was somebody stopping by just briefly—not even long enough for a trip to the living room.
I creep around the side of the house so that I have a better view of the front.
Jeremy is escorting a person out his front door. And even in the dim light, it’s very clear that his visitor is female. Her long raven hair is shining under the lantern that lights the front porch.
Okay, this is not a good sign. Jeremy has a woman over to his house in the middle of the night.
But then again, they’re just talking on the porch.
Nothing is happening. She could be a friend.
Or a colleague. Or maybe…a long-lost sister?
The point is whatever is going on between them appears to be completely platonic.
Until he leans in to kiss her.