Chapter 40 Now
Now
“Are you okay?” Will asks.
What a stupid fucking question. What a stupid fucking idiot.
Me, that is. Not Will. I want to stand up, crack a window for fresh air, but standing feels like risking a fall, and my pride is already dented enough—my body doesn’t need to take a ding, too.
Somehow, despite telling myself I was choosing better, despite the seemingly infinite time spent in therapy to make me choose better, have I chosen another man just like my dad? Worse?
“Is all of this true?” I ask.
“I don’t think I’m capable of this elaborate a lie.”
“Me neither.”
“I’ll pretend it didn’t hurt my feelings that you agreed so quickly.” He holds up a hand. “Wait here a moment.”
Will disappears into the kitchen and reappears moments later with two glasses of water clutched in his hands. Even now, the life I know swirling down a drain I can’t plug, I’m circumspect enough to eye the glasses with caution.
He sighs. “They’re clean.”
“Thank you.” And I mean it, too, a steady gratitude creeping over my body as I accept one. This may not have been the outcome I wanted or was expecting, but I’m glad that Will has been honest with me.
A beat.
“So on Christmas Eve, James confessed to you that he killed his ex-girlfriend. And you want to come clean to the police, but he doesn’t.”
“That’s right. I mean, I feel horrible about it. Her parents were trying to get the case reopened for years. Kept shelling out money they don’t have on private investigators, the lot. And Chioma was always so nice to me, I—”
“Chioma?”
He pauses, puzzled. “Yeah.”
At once, I can feel my head getting hot and my blood running cold. “But that’s a Nigerian name.”
Will only looks more confused. “Yeah. She was.”
So I am not the first Black girl my husband has dated, despite everything he’s said. “Will, I’m going to need to know exactly what happened with Chioma, and why James refuses to talk about her.”