Cheating Minds

Chapter 1

CHARGES

“You like these, right?”

Eliana jumped as she glanced up from her book to find her daughter standing at the edge of the bed, a yogurt cup extended between them. She blinked, glancing down at the treat, noticing it was the same strawberry blend that she’d eaten every single day for at least three years.

“Yes?”

“Alright,” Abby nodded, setting the cup on the bedside table. Then she turned and walked back out as silently as she’d arrived, pulling the door shut behind her.

“You know you can just open the door and tell me you love me!” Eliana shouted at the retreating pre-teen, finally processing the situation. “You don’t have to bring offerings to visit me!”

She sighed as she glanced back at the book in her lap, then slipped the hair tie she was using as a makeshift bookmark between the pages and set it aside, her mind still trailing after Abby.

The kid stayed locked in her room 24/7, with her books and her video games, only making mysterious appearances to bring unsolicited food or perform her chores.

Her grades were steady, and her attitude was fine—but still, Eliana worried.

Abby’s twin, on the other hand, was her polar opposite. A veritable firecracker in comparison. Evidenced easily by Zoey busting through the same door just moments later and tripping over her own feet in the process.

“Hey, Mom,” Zoey said as her arms windmilled, scrambling for purchase.

She caught herself on the edge of the laundry basket Eliana had left on the dresser, until that too lost its balance, and emptied itself upon her head.

“Ewww,” she scowled, knocking away the men’s boxers hanging from her shoulder.

“They’re your father’s.”

“Still gross.” Zoey shrugged. “So what’s for supper?” She moseyed closer, eyeing the yogurt sitting innocently on the bedside table. “Oh, it’s a ‘fend-for-yourself’ night? Is it that good of a book?” Zoey flipped the novel over, scanning the back. “Looks like smut.”

Eliana snatched the book out of her pre-teen’s hands. “Mind your business, you heathen. And no, it’s not a ‘fend-for-yourself’ night, I’m making chicken. Your sister just brought the yogurt to me to be . . . nice.”

“Ah, a guilt-gift.” Zoey nodded sagely. “You should talk to her about that. She brings them to me all the time, whenever she thinks she’s neglecting me.” Zoey smirked. “Though sometimes I think she’s trying to train me to be patient.”

“I was just reading, though,” Eliana mused, waving a hand at the book. “How does that make sense?”

“Identical doesn’t mean we think the same,” Zoey said, snatching the yogurt off the table. “She’s your daughter, you figure it out.”

“She’s your twin,” Eliana whisper-yelled at Zoey as she flounced back out of the room, giggling with the stolen yogurt cup in her hands.

Eliana glanced at the clock and sighed, swinging her legs around to stand up.

She’d thought that reading in her bedroom might have kept the kids at bay, but she’d not even had thirty minutes of quiet time before they’d found her.

There was no point trying to lose herself in the words again, not with so many fresh tasks brought to her attention.

She needed to get the chicken defrosting, fold those clothes, and probably talk to Abby.

But when she grabbed her phone off the bedside table, she was startled by the notification that flashed across the screen.

Four hundred dollars at the Elliston Hotel?

She knew her husband would need to rent a room that night. He traveled the majority of the week for his job, but the charges were never that high. There were rules requiring them to fall within certain established guidelines for financial reimbursement.

She unplugged the phone and navigated to her contacts, dialing his number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, babe,” she said, diving straight in, “I just got a notification from the credit card that there was a four-hundred-dollar charge at the Elliston. I think they overcharged you.”

“Why would you get a notification like that?” Jesse asked, his tone one of shock.

“I get notifications for any charge over two hundred dollars. I always have.” Eliana sighed, "That's not the point. You need to go talk to the desk. They messed something up.”

“No, they didn’t. They ran out of the basic rooms and only had the penthouse suite available. It was the only option, and I cleared it with my boss, so I’m all good for reimbursement.”

“Oh.” She frowned. At such an extreme markup, why wouldn’t they ask him to use a different hotel? Regardless, she felt silly for panicking. “Well, I’m sorry for the alarm.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know. But I’ve told you, Elly, you don’t have to worry about the money. I’ve got it covered. I promise, okay?”

Eliana sighed. It was a common argument and one she didn’t feel like hashing out in that moment—particularly not when she already felt foolish.

Jesse and Eliana fell in love young, marrying the summer following their high school graduation.

Due to finances, they agreed that he’d get his degree first while she worked, and then swap.

Until Jesse entered his final year of school and they’d gotten two pink lines on a plastic strip, and discovered they were pregnant . . .with twins.

Eliana was put on bed rest for the last trimester, but the timing had worked out with Jesse entering the workforce—even if it did delay Eliana signing up for her own courses.

And then the twins arrived, and her schooling was delayed again.

They were so tiny and delicate and in need of constant care—which was expensive to outsource for one, much less two.

Life moved forward. Days became years, and the girls grew beyond the age of daycare, graduating up into the public school system.

Jesse moved forward as well, climbing the career ladder and landing management roles with six-figure salaries.

But Eliana . . .she stayed the same, settling into a state of limbo.

She loved her experience being a stay-at-home mom.

She loved being there for every second of their childhoods.

She loved being present for each milestone, each doctor appointment, never missing a family dinner or bedtime story.

She mastered the art of caring for the home, prepping meals, and recording memories.

She learned to bake and sew and found a community in reading that she never anticipated.

However, she still wanted to contribute financially, and she’d thought Jesse was on the same page. That is, until she’d brought up the topic shortly after the girls had started kindergarten, and had been floored to learn just how fiercely Jesse opposed the idea.

“You don’t think I can provide enough for you to stay home? Have I not been managing just fine for the last five years? I’ve gotten three promotions, Elly.”

“No, it’s not about you providing—” Eliana argued. “I just want to do something. I get bored sitting around the house. Would it not be smart to have two incomes now that I’ve got all this free time? We could just throw it in a college fund or something. Give me something to do during the day.”

“I don’t like it. It makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That you need more. What else do you need? I can work harder.”

“Jesse, no, we have plenty. Maybe I could just help manage the finances? Be like the home secretary?”

“I don’t know. I already know where everything is, and it’s all in my name, so if you call, they’re just going to want to talk to me anyways. It’d be easier if I just took care of it. Can you trust me to do that?”

“I do, but I want to contribute. I want to have more of a purpose in this family.”

“But you already do, Elly. You’re our glue. The girls’ mom, my wife. We wouldn’t be anything without you. Let me take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Eliana said, then and now, pulling her mind back to the present. “I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Jesse sighed. “I’m going to jump, alright? I need to get up to my room for a call in ten minutes.”

“No worries. I love you.”

“Love you too,” he said, ending the call.

Eliana lingered for a long moment, staring down at the phone in her hand and debating with herself.

She had no reason to suspect. No reason.

But just to pacify the little voice in the back of her mind .

. . the logic that felt so much like betrayal .

. . she pulled up the hotel’s website and clicked through the booking software, entering fake details.

And when it loaded the available options for the night, Eliana sat motionless for several long minutes, her eyes glued to the arrow at the bottom of the screen, displaying six pages . . .

Six pages of available rooms to peruse.