Chapter Two
Fuck him.
I think…
I bite down on my lip and take a step forward. Ten years of marriage gone. All because he tripped and fell into his secretary’s vagina last year. That’s what I had assumed—and had been right. He bought a lot of nice jewelry, and none of it ever showed up at my house. He went on a lot of late-night runs and never came home all that sweaty.
He wasn’t the Jared that I fell in love with. That Jared swept me off my feet, loved me unconditionally, and always acted like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. However, that was before three miscarriages and failed IVF treatments. Back before this house began to feel so fucking empty.
“Emma, please,” he cries on the other side of the door.
My lip ticks as I consider hearing him out, but the other part of me considers sending the ring doorbell footage to Lydia. She might think this is funny. Or cruel. His cruelty, not mine. I’m not cruel. I’m just buzzed and tired. All I want is to move on.
“Emma, I love you…”
I roll my eyes and rip the door open. “Just sign the papers, Jared.”
His baby blue eyes light up at the sight of me—they never did that until I kicked him out of the house. “I don’t wanna sign them, Emma. I wanna work this out. You know I do. I want you. I want us.”
“I don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I just don’t,” I exasperate. The words are empty, but it’s what my lawyer told me to say. He told me to be strong. That this is best. He also tried to take me out to dinner. I think that’s a conflict of interest.
Fuck men.
“Come on, honey,” Jared reaches out, his hand brushing mine.
I catch my breath and pull it away. “No. You made your decision when you slept with someone else. We have nothing to show for the last ten years, either.”
“Emma, it was just a rough time…” The hurt on his face burns. It threatens to tear my heart out and stomp on it all over again. I could give him a second chance. I could let him back in.
I could.
“I know you love me,” Jared’s words come out soft. “I know we can work through this if you just give me a chance. I stopped seeing Melanie.”
Melanie. Stupid fucking Melanie.
Except that’s not true. It’s not her. It’s him.
I take a deep breath, tip my glass back, and down the rest of the wine. “I don’t wanna do this. We’ve been back and forth for months.”
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.”
Sobs threaten to explode in my chest, but I choke them down. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what? Apologize?” He’s sounding more and more desperate as tears slip down his cheeks. “I should’ve been there for you when you were going through all the treatments…I should’ve—”
“You should’ve stayed out of Melanie’s fucking pants!” I throw the wine glass in his direction, and it shatters into a million pieces on the sidewalk.
Jared jumps to the side, his eyes wide and his hands up in surrender. “How much have you had to drink tonight, Em?”
I shake my head and feel like there should be tears streaming down my face, but there aren’t any. “I haven’t had much.”
He raises a brow, eyeing me. “What’s not much? Four glasses?”
“No,” I snap. I don’t know how many glasses I’ve had. “Just go home.”
“This is home, Emma. Home is with you, and I was stupid. I didn’t even realize it until it was too late, and I had fucked everything up. Please.”
I stare at him, trying to process his words. That’s the problem with this—he’s said them all. All the good ones. All the ones that a woman wants to hear. He said them to me. I think he meant them. But I don’t feel it anymore.
It’s me.
“Go.” I take a step back, no longer flirting with the threshold.
“Emma…” Jared makes a move to come toward me, his face torn apart with heartache.
“I can’t resurrect us from the dead, Jared.” With that, I shut the door, the automatic lock clicking into place. He wouldn’t come in, anyway. He’s not that kind of guy. He won’t push my physical boundaries.
He’ll just go sleep with his employee instead.
“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath as I make my way back to the kitchen. I hear his Porsche outside, revving up and tearing down the driveway. Jared’s never had a temper. I’m not sure he’s ever yelled at me.
My eyes hang on the bottle of wine, resting there on the counter. It’s over halfway gone, and I don’t need to drink anymore. I really don’t. It’s not a good habit, but the last few days have been rough since the anniversary of my mom…
That brings tears to my eyes. I squeeze them shut. She’s been gone for almost three years now, and it still feels like yesterday—even more so when shit hit the fan with Jared. Lydia, my best friend, is always there for me, but it’s not the same. She doesn’t know what to say the way my mom always did.
“Fuck,” I whisper, batting away the tears. I grab the bottle of wine and pick it up. With no hesitation, I pour it down the drain of my kitchen sink, watching it disappear. Sure, there’s more in the wine cellar, but I’m too tired to go down there.
Maybe I should call Lydia.
I pat the pockets of my jean shorts, expecting to feel my phone there, but they’re empty. Ugh. My bare feet pad across the tile, and I make my way to the staircase off the main hallway. However, as I exit the kitchen, a warm gush of air tickles my arms.
Whipping my head around, I catch sight of an open window in my living room. My shoulders slump, and I head over to it, shutting it. More than likely, I left it open last night in a state of booze ridden stupor.
Yeah, no more wine.
I flip the locks on the window and head back for the stairs, my footsteps thudding on the carpeted treads. I really should have them redone, but that would require reaching out to a contractor and overseeing them as they come and go from my house. The thought sounds overwhelming. I don’t want visitors.
Once on the second floor, I make my way down the hallway to the second master bedroom. I haven’t been staying in the main master bedroom since I kicked Jared out. I step inside and spot my phone on my bed. I pick it up and plop down on the edge, seeing that I missed a call from my lawyer. I hit the call back button, and he answers on the first ring.
“Hey, Emma.”
“Hi, Kyle.”
“I was just calling to update you and let you know I contacted Jared’s attorney and—”
“And he still hasn’t signed. I know.”
“Oh, how do you know?”
“He showed up here again.”
“Should we look into a restraining order?”
“Uh…” My voice trails off. “I don’t think so. He’s just…He just wants to reconcile. Very badly, apparently.”
“Yeah, but he’s shown up at your house multiple times, Emma. He’s not taking no for an answer, and I don’t like that. Desperation can turn ugly.”
“Hmm.” My eyes flicker to the window, and the lights of the yard illuminate the perfectly cut grass. A blur of something in the trees catches my attention, and my stomach flips. But when I squint to get a better look, there’s nothing there. I shake it off. No more freaking wine. It’s messing with my head.
“Emma, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I am. Sorry. Just got distracted for a moment.” I run my free hand down my bare thigh. I have freckles everywhere, and as I brush my black nails over them, I frown. I’ve never been a fan. I’m the blemished version of a human being. Maybe I should be discounted…
“If you need a night out or just a break, you know I can come pick you up? Take you somewhere nice? As a friend,” he adds quickly. “You’re just not in a good headspace. I’ve known you since we were kids, Emma.”
“I know, but I’m fine.” I hate the fact he always mentions we knew each other as kids. He doesn’t really know me. I don’t think anyone does. Not anymore. I spend my time pretending to be a writer and doing whatever the hell I want—because I have nothing else to do. Granted, I used to volunteer at charities and try to give back…
But now, I don’t even wanna leave the house. I’m a ghost in these walls, and somehow, that’s how I imagine I’ll spend the rest of my days.
“Okay, well, I just want to extend the offer.”
I snap my eyes back from the window. “Thanks, I appreciate it. But really, I think all I need is for the divorce to go through. It’ll be a load off my shoulders.”
“Thirty-six days and it’s finalized without the signature.”
I find it strange he’s keeping up with the exact number of days, but fine. “Yeah, a little over a month.” As the words leave my mouth, I hear a creak that causes me to pause. I’m not ignorant of the noises a house makes…But this…
Something suddenly feels off, and the hair on the back of my neck bristles.
“Anyway, um,” he says. “I was just calling to update you. Have a good night. I’ll let you know if anything changes—and let me know if you ever need anything.”
“Of course,” I say. “Thanks Kyle.” I hang up, though I don’t let go of my phone. I peek out of the open bedroom door, gazing down the hallway. Nothing looks amiss, and the lights are all on. Stop being paranoid.
Sighing, I head toward the staircase. Jared”s visiting must have me a little on edge. Not to mention, after Lydia’s disastrous ex-boyfriend stalking her, it did cross my mind that Jared might act psycho, too. But there’s no way Jared would have it in him. Mason always had a temper—and it’s probably what ended him, too. I smile to myself at the thought of that unhinged serial killer tearing him to shreds.
My footsteps are silent across the bamboo flooring, and as I enter the kitchen, I lift my phone to my eyes and consider calling Lydia. She’s probably lost in Henry right now, but she’d answer if I called. She always did. However, before I get the chance, a blast of air hits my face. I shiver and peer through the kitchen. My eyes catch sight of the entryway…And the wide-open front door.
“What the hell?” I mutter, but as the words leave my lips, I feel an intentional tap on my shoulder. My phone crashes to the ground as I spin around, stumbling backward at the panic crashing over me. A tall, broad-shouldered figure in all black looms over me. He’s wearing a black mask, blue x’s over the eyes. My heart flips in my chest. My lips part, but I don’t scream.
And I can’t make a noise because I can’t even fucking breathe. My chest grows tight as fear clenches down on my vocal cords. Fight or flight is a thing, but what about freeze? I’m paralyzed.
A deep, gut-clenching chuckle comes from his throat, and I find my gaze on his bobbing Adam’s apple. There’s black ink there, but I can’t make it out for the shadows cast across his skin. However, I do notice the thick leather strap in his hand as he lifts it into my view.
What. The. Fuck. I’m gonna die…By a belt?
“Run, Emma,” he growls. “Run.”