Chapter Fifteen
Kenna
Eighteen months ago…
I watch an unfamiliar, very attractive and well-dressed man exit Cyrus’s office. He catches my eye and smiles, lifting his chin in greeting as he passes me.
“Who was that man?” I ask when Cyrus comes out front.
“Nobody.”
I glance at the calendar on my computer which shows no client meetings until after noon today. “I didn’t know you had an appointment this morning.”
“It’s not your concern,” he says, his voice dismissive.
“Is he a new client? Should I start a file?”
“Kenna,” Cyrus snaps. “I said drop it.”
Something is wrong. Gone is the funny, caring man I married eight months ago. He’s been increasingly short with me and Amelia. On edge. It makes me wonder if business isn’t doing well. I don’t have access to the books. I’m just his receptionist.
My husband is nothing if not a proud man. He’d never admit it if business was bad. And I’m not sure that’s what it is. There’s definitely been no shortage of men streaming in and out of the office, all wanting Cyrus to represent them in their divorces.
But he’s definitely hiding something.
I stare at him as he stops in the hallway and talks with Jude Farlow—Cyrus’s paralegal, and the only other employee besides me. Cyrus rubs his eyes, which I just now realize are harboring dark circles.
Oh my gosh, is he sick? Was that man a doctor, here to deliver bad news? Would Cyrus keep something like that from me?
Jude retreats to his office without a glance in my direction, but Cyrus sees me watching and walks over, looking guilty. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, babe. Just having a bad day.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Now why would I want to do that? I told you, it’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “How about you run downstairs and get us some coffee and bagels?”
“Sure.” I stand and start to turn toward the door, then feel all kinds of awkward. “But, um… my account is nearly overdrawn until payday.”
He nods to the bottom desk drawer. “Take it out of petty cash.”
I sigh. “Cyrus, there isn’t any more petty cash. You took the last of it a few days ago, remember?”
He shakes his head, seeming disgusted for a moment before he gets out his wallet and gives me a twenty-dollar bill. “Get regular cream cheese, not that light shit.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
In the elevator on the way to the ground floor, I once again think of how he keeps promising to merge our bank accounts ‘soon.’ I get that he owns a business and doesn’t want to mingle that, but he also has a personal checking account.
He pays me a decent wage, but after covering my agreed-upon portion of the rent and Amelia’s daycare, there’s never much left for anything else.
I mean, he takes care of me for the most part, paying the majority of the bills. He takes me out for dinner occasionally. Not as much as he used to, but life is busy, right?
And he’s a decent enough stepdad to Amelia.
He hasn’t taken to her as much as I’d hoped he would, but I get it.
She’s not his. It’s still just as hard to watch him become less and less tolerant of her ‘terrible-two’ behavior as it is to hear him blame me for not keeping her under control.
She’s two. Nothing she’s doing is abnormal or unexpected.
And I’m a good mom, even if I am a young one.
Cyrus is eighteen years older than I am. I think that’s what drew me to him in the first place. A stable man with a good career. And he was so good to me. Taking me under his wing. Giving me a job. Making me feel important.
The elevator stops to let a woman on, and my mind starts to race.
He was good to me. As in past tense. When did he stop being the good, chivalrous man I married?
The one who promised to take care of Amelia and me?
Was it last week? Last month? I can’t even pinpoint when it happened.
Has it been happening all along, such a slow progression I didn’t even realize it? Until now?
I shake my head. Maybe it’s me expecting too much. We’ve been married for over eight months. The ‘honeymoon’ phase is most definitely over. Maybe this is how all marriages go?
Stifling a scoff, I push that thought away.
I know in my heart that’s not it. My husband is a divorce lawyer.
A divorce lawyer for men only. At any given time, he’s usually handling about forty cases.
And there is no shortage of men calling and wanting representation.
I knew people got divorced. I just didn’t realize how many until I came to work here.
A new level of frustration and dismay creeps into my thoughts.
Maybe a divorce lawyer for men only might not be capable of being a proper husband.
I see what he does day in and day out, doing his best to keep wives from getting a penny more than their husbands think they deserve.
And sadly, they never think they deserve much. Is that how Cyrus sees me? Undeserving?
On the ground floor now, I meander into the bagel shop and place my order.
While I wait, I get out my phone and scroll through the latest pictures I’ve taken of Amelia.
At nearly three, her smile takes my breath away every time I look at her.
She got Jerry’s red hair, which is a constant reminder of the man who didn’t want anything to do with her.
I close my eyes and wonder if it’s me. Maybe I’m attracted to men who turn out to be bad for me.
Not for the first time, I worry I may have rushed to the altar with Cyrus. But I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it. It’ll get better. Once he’s passed this midlife crisis or whatever.
“Oh, hey, you’re the girl from upstairs.”
I look up and see the same unfamiliar man who was in Cyrus’s office.
I paste on a smile, because maybe this stranger can fill in some blanks. “I’m Kenna.”
He holds out a hand. “Luke. I see we have the same taste in bagel shops. I love this place.”
When I shake his hand, he clasps mine for a long time, gazing into my eyes and looking all charming. It almost feels as if he’s about to proposition me. A blush works across my face and I decide to shut him down before he has a chance. “Are you a new client of my husband?”
His head cocks to the side and he studies me. “You’re married to Cyrus Kelly?”
I hold up my left hand and flash my ring.
“Wow, okay.” He steps back and rubs his jaw like he’s contemplating something. “I wouldn’t normally do this. I don’t like to get involved. But you seem like a nice girl, and it’s obvious you have no clue who I am.”
“Should I?”
“Ma’am, I’m your husband’s bookie.”
“Bookie?” I narrow my brows in complete confusion. “As in a guy who takes bets?”
He laughs. “Well, it’s more than that, but yeah, I guess I’m a guy who takes bets. And I’ve taken a lot of them from Cyrus. It’s why I showed up here. He’s being cut off and his debt is due.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
He takes my elbow and gently guides me away from the other people waiting on their orders. “Listen, Kenna. He owes me quite a bit of money. And by the look on your face, I’d bet you had no idea about his gambling addiction.”
My hand comes to my chest. “Addiction?” I blurt defensively. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been his bookie for a long time. He used to be more of the run-of-the-mill kind of gambler.
You know, the type who only bets on big events like the Kentucky Derby, the Final Four, and the Super Bowl.
But in the past eighteen months or so, he’s become much more…
immersed. And word has it, it’s not just sports betting.
He’s been frequenting casinos in Atlantic City.
An acquaintance of mine was playing blackjack with him last month. Said Cyrus lost at least five grand.”
My mouth falls open and my head spins. I quickly calculate how long I’ve known Cyrus. It hasn’t even been close to eighteen months. More like twelve. On one hand, I’m happy it had nothing to do with me and Amelia. Still, I’m shocked. Is this why he’s been so hesitant to merge our finances?
I lean against the wall, feeling sick. Cyrus is addicted to gambling? And he owes this guy money. It explains a lot. Why he’s been different lately. Short tempered and not as charming as the guy who swept me off my feet.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me how much he owes.” It’s hard to keep the confrontational edge out of my voice. Because this is all so… unbelievable.
He scoffs. “I don’t see why not. Just over a hundred grand. It’s the line I draw with all my clients.”
Clients. He says the word as if he’s a legitimate businessman like Cyrus.
Cyrus. My head is reeling. He owes this guy a hundred thousand dollars.
My mouth goes dry, shock and sadness replaced with fear. Amelia. Oh, my God. Are we in danger?
“I… I have to go.”
“You haven’t gotten your order.”
I begin to back away.
He follows closely. “Kenna, it’s okay. I’m not a mafia boss. I’m not going to break his legs or anything, that’s not my MO.”
“But what if he doesn’t pay?”
He shrugs. “Eventually, I’ll sell the debt to a third party.”
I swallow hard. “And what will this third party do to collect?”
He shakes his head and gives me a wry smile. “That’s not my business.” Then he turns serious, studying me. “How long have you been married?”
“Eight months.”
“Kids?”
“Not one that’s his.”
He shakes his head again, this time with no hint of humor or insinuation. “Can I give you a piece of advice?” When I don’t answer, he continues, “I’d take your kid and get as far away from him as you can. Because I can’t guarantee what will or won’t happen once I sell his debt.”
My heart races. “And just how long will that be?”
“I just gave him six months.”
My legs barely able to hold me up, I walk to a nearby booth and sit before I fall. Luke slides in across from me.
“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you all this, but like I said, you seem like a nice girl and you deserve to know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”