Chapter 4
Zoe
That night, as we lay in bed together, I watch the rise and fall of his chest. My eyes trace the familiar lines of his face—the same face that once made me stop dead in my tracks when he called out my name, running across the floor of the crowded coffee shop where I used to work.
Mind you, this fella has always been wealthy.
At the time, seeing a man like him chase after me felt like a scene clipped straight out of a romance movie.
"His face..." I breathe the words into the dark.
I extend a hand, my fingertips brushing his cheek. I smile faintly as he automatically leans his weight into my palm, but then my hand stills. What am I even doing? He hasn't offered a single apology for missing our anniversary. He is taking me for granted.
Pulling my hand back, I tap his chest. He doesn't stir.
I shift and tap his shoulder—the one spot I know always breaks his deep sleep.
It has always worked, and it works now. Chris blinks open his eyes, rolling his head to look around the dark bedroom in confusion.
I sit up, resting my back flat against the headboard.
"We need to talk, Chris."
"Baby," he mutters, his voice thick and groggy. His hand reaches out, finding my hip as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. He pulls his hand back to rub his eyes, clearing the fog.
"I'm tired," I begin, keeping my voice level.
Chris lets out a long, weary breath. The air rushes past his lips in a slow hiss as he drops his chin toward his chest.
"Not this again, baby," he says, his shoulders dropping. "I told you, we've had this discussion for what, five years now? I know you're tired. I know. But can you just understand her? Understand that she lost her husband."
I swallow against the dry knot in my throat. I nod my head in the dark, offering perfect compliance to his words.
"So I am the one who should understand again. Do you remember when you told me I would always come first?"
He lets out a sharp huff, running a hand through his hair until it stands on end, his posture rigid with frustration. "Come on, let's not do this tonight."
A soft chuckle breaks past my lips, and a hot tear leaks from the corner of my eye, tracking down my cheek. I shake my head, watching his every move in the dim light.
"Fine. I will understand. And I hope you understand too when I leave."
Chris shakes his head, dismissive. "Oh, please don't say things like that, alright?"
He leans across the space, pressing a brief, dry peck against my cheek. "Good night, babe."
He rolls over, turning his back to me. I nod slowly to the empty room, my head resting against the wooden headboard. I lick my dry lips, quietly planning how to take the remaining pieces of my life back into my own hands.
Understand, they said, I whisper to the darkness.
I turn my gaze to my sleeping husband. He doesn't even hold me tonight.
"I hope you understand me when I leave, hubby."
***
"So that's what he said?" Dana's voice crackles through the phone speaker.
I nod, even though she can't see me.
"Girl, you have got to take out that girl's drama," she says, her tone clipping each word with absolute gravity.
"I am not joking, Zoe. Sarai... I never really liked that girl, you see.
" She lets out a sharp tsk. "Whatever you want to do, go on.
I am right behind you, I tell you. So the plan is you're coming to stay with me for a while, right? "
"Yes. I mean, if you will have me, of course."
"Oh, baby, you have to be kidding if you think I will let you stay some place else.
" Dana lets out a rich laugh, then her voice drops into a serious register.
"But on a more serious note, I know the guy loves you.
I just don't know how they expect you to keep understanding the fact that someone else has almost full access to your husband.
How can Chris not see it? Sarai has fallen in love with him, and she might not even realize it, but she's being a villain right now. "
"It's fine. I don't want to talk about her, Dana. Tell me, how soon can I come to your place?"
"Girl, you can fly in here in the next second and I won't care. Just come. I've missed you."
A small smile breaks through my fatigue. "What about Sharon?" I ask, referring to my goddaughter.
"You mean your goddaughter who has been crying for her rich godmother to come take over her spending habits?" Dana chuckles.
"What about Joseph?" I ask quietly, bringing up her husband who had up and left with her younger sister a few years back.
"Joseph is gone. I'm seeing Abraham now."
I blink, halting my movements. "Wait. Abraham? Your first husband?"
"Yeah, my first husband. That's why you need to come here sooner so we can talk all night long. And maybe you could also sponsor my lifestyle."
"I'll come as early as next week. I just need to put my things in order."
"Anytime, baby. We await you. Oh God, it's been a while since we stayed together. I remember when Lizzy used to be around, and she would play with Sharon, then we would go on dates and just converse. Ugh, the good old days."
The longer I speak with her, the more my mind opens to the prospect of fresh air and a different environment.
After we say our goodbyes, I begin packing my things. Every box I secure, I carry down the hallway into one of the numerous empty guest rooms we keep in this house. When the sun finally sets and darkness fills the windows, I look at the row of taped boxes and nod.
"Good," I mutter, turning on my heel.
I hurry back into our master bedroom to take a bath. Just as I wash the soap from my skin and step out, the bedroom door clicks open. Chris walks into the suite, heading straight into the walk-in closet.
Welcome home, husband. Oh yes, welcome.
My pulse quickens, a nervous flutter hitting my stomach as I watch his shadow move behind the frosted glass of the closet.
What if he asks where my clothes went? I slowly run the towel over my legs, keeping my eyes glued to the doorway.
But the longer I watch him, the more certain I become that he isn't going to question a thing.
He is simply too consumed with his own schedule to notice. He is packing his own luggage.
"Uh, so Sarai reached out to me," he calls out from the closet. "She says she needs a plus one for an event."
I let out a quiet huff, keeping my mouth shut.
After a moment, he pokes his head through the closet doorway, his brow raised. "Don't you have anything to say?"
I look up at him, shake my head, and smoothly resume applying lotion to my legs. "When are you planning on coming back home, Chris?"
"I don't know. From there, I'll be going straight to a business event. Maybe I'll just take Sarai along since it's within the same vicinity, so she doesn't get bored."
He turns back to his dresser, sorting through his collection of watches—the exact spot where my jewelry boxes used to sit. I hold my breath, waiting for the realization to hit him, waiting for him to notice the bare marble counter.
"Hmm. Something is missing here," he mutters, tilting his head. He tosses two wristwatches into his leather travel bag.
I wait patiently for the second shoe to drop, but it doesn't. He carries on with his packing, completely blind to the empty shelves.
"Why do I even bother?" I say aloud, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Once I am finished prepping for sleep, I slide my glasses onto the bridge of my nose and pull up my tablet, scrolling through real estate listings close to Dana's flat.
I don't intend to impose on her for long.
As the pages load, I recall that I actually already hold a property deed in that area. I nod to myself, the plan solidifying.
I set the tablet on the nightstand and turn off the lamp, letting the darkness envelope the bed. I hear the solid thud of his footsteps move across the room toward the door. I lay there in isolation. He has forgotten to even offer a peck goodbye.
Reaching for my phone one last time, I open my texts and message Dana: I think I'll be coming earlier than expected.