Chapter 5 Anna—Manky mattresses and popped hips
Several cocktails later, Rosa, Mel, and Anna sprawled on Mel’s sofa, summarizing their findings.
Some intense social media stalking of April revealed that she indeed was not separated.
Her Insta profile was filled with pictures of her designer clothing-clad ass at social events, bars, and restaurants.
Her husband featured in just a few images, but his presence in the shots was recent enough to confirm their marriage was still intact.
“He’s hot in a grumpy, beastly way,” Rosa said. “I could climb him like a tree. Look at those biceps. What does she want with Mason? That little bitch skips leg day way too much. He’s built like a mushroom. Those pins won’t hold him up much longer.”
Anna sniffled but laughed. It was funny how quickly black humor set in and how she didn’t feel the urge to defend him to Rosa anymore.
That motherfucker is now on his own, she thought.
But even thinking that set off her tears again.
They’d been a team. She’d supported him and he’d supported her.
Well, maybe not the latter, she thought grimly.
How could she just let go? How could she just hate him?
Sure, she was furious and hurt, but hating him? She wasn’t there yet.
Rosa was right. April’s husband did seem grumpy.
Shane did not smile in a single photo, though many partners of Insta-obsessed women seemed to suffer through the constant profiling of their lives by scowling in their begrudging Insta presence.
Anna herself was borderline Insta-obsessed.
There was no judgment there. Shane was not an unattractive man, but his features were certainly harsh.
He had intense green eyes, light brown hair, clipped military short.
His nose was straight, and he had a strong jawline.
A large scar ran from the outer corner of his left eye right down to the side of his mouth.
It didn’t detract from his unique handsomeness, but it did make him seem dangerous and intimidating.
Did Mason have a death wish? Anna wouldn’t dare cut this man off in traffic let alone sleep with his wife. Mason couldn’t afford to skip any more leg days if he was ever to confront this beast of a man.
Anna spent the rest of the night drinking, commiserating, and crying.
After heading to Mel’s guestroom, Anna sobbed herself to sleep, allowing herself to catastrophize but realizing she didn’t need to now.
This was worst-case scenario already. She had a week to pull herself together.
A week to figure out the whole story with Mason.
A week to gain the confidence to confront Mason without falling apart.
He wouldn’t get her tears. He wouldn’t see her fall apart.
She’d confront him coldly, without emotion.
If some part of him still loved her, her indifference would kill him.
If he didn’t care for her any longer, her indifference would at least deny him the satisfaction of seeing her hurt, so indifference it would have to be.
Her absence from their home may give him the opportunity to take April there, but that didn’t change anything at this point.
___________________
Saturday came and went with more tears, more anger, and more pain.
Mel had to take the Saturday shift at Dynamics, so Rosa kept her company.
They played Call of Duty for hours. Rosa was pretty damned good at it and Anna just appreciated the escape and the killing.
Very therapeutic and a complete relief to not have to think about anything else.
Mason had texted a few times, feigning concern for Mel and disappointment that Anna would not see him before he left Sunday night.
By Sunday night, Anna was cried out. She declined Rosa’s offer to stay with her, preferring instead to tear her house apart herself for some kind of clue.
Some kind of explanation. She needed answers, even if those answers hurt.
She considered her evidence: late working hours, a secret bank account, a covert lunch date with an intimate-looking kiss, and Mason’s mood swings.
Did his mood swings come from guilt? Stress from hiding a secret?
Disgust with her? Frustration that he couldn't be with April? Anna’s heart sank when she realized the most likely explanation.
In four months, he’d be a rich man. Sure, they weren’t married yet, but they were common law partners, which entitled him to half her funds if she tipped her inheritance into a shared account, which she had planned to.
That obviously wouldn’t happen now. They were never going to be married.
He was going to leave her. He was going to take her grandparents’ hard-earned money to spend on his skank.
Anger replaced devastation very quickly.
She stormed into their bedroom and began to rip it apart.
Drawers were wrenched out; his suits were ripped from the closet. She pulled the mattress off the frame. Had her fucked her in here? Had she slept in a bed where he’d come inside another woman?
Sitting in the wreckage of her room, Anna began to calm down, though this involved more tears. Fucking crying. I’m over crying. My eyes hurt, she thought. She began cleaning up, restoring the clothes to the closet, but searching every pocket for some kind of clue or evidence. Nothing.
She began replacing the drawers in the cabinet, but a flash of red caught her eye.
Mason was predictable in his underwear choice.
Solid blue, black, and white designs. No patterns, no bright colors.
She pulled the red item out and flung it on the bed when she realized what it was.
A bunched-up silk negligee sat there, offending her with its very presence.
She pinched it between her fingers like it was a lab sample of a virus.
It wasn’t a practical pajama choice. It was intentionally sexy, cut low in the chest with slits high in the sides.
Lace adorned the hem at the skirt and the edges of the deep V neckline.
Skinny ribbon straps held up the lace-and-silk abomination.
She checked the tag. Not her size. She was too short to pull it off and her boobs would ooze out of the flimsy silk cups.
She dropped Exhibit A and headed into the kitchen for tongs and a baggie.
All evidence should be carefully collected, she told herself, not really understanding why she wanted to bag this up.
It probably had fluids on it. She sniffed the bag, smelling only perfume and maybe a bit of sweat.
Okay, so they’d removed it before the main action. It was still gross.
She texted Mel a photo of the baggie with a short message.
Anna: I assume this is the bitch’s lingerie. Found it in his drawer. Definitely not mine. Tell me, what would the heroine in one of your romances do?
Mel: She’d confront the other woman’s husband. He'd be angry but not devastated because their marriage was dead. He’d eventually team up with you and you’d fall in love.
Despite her agony, Anna snorted in laughter. Shane? He’d sooner rip Mason’s head off and put it on a stake outside his house to warn other men off approaching his precious, perfect wife. He looked like that sort of man. Protective, possessive, maybe even vengeful.
Anna: What if that the OW’s husband was terrifying and the heroine feared for her life?
Mel: She’d do it anyway because she’s brave and sick of her man’s shit. Honestly though Anna, he has a right to know. If you wanna talk to him, I’ll come with you.
Anna straightened and walked into the bathroom, wincing at her reflection.
Her eyes were red and puffy. Her hair was a matted mess pulled into a messy bun to hide the knots.
She sniffed under her arms. When had she last showered?
This heroine certainly wasn’t brave. She was a stinky mess.
Tears took hold of her as she threw herself onto the potentially defiled mattress on the floor.
Bravery could wait. Tonight, she’d fall apart
____________
She woke Monday morning to two messages
Mason: Arrived safely. Busy few days setting up but will call when I can.
Mel: We told Madame Celeste you had violent diarrhea. You’ve got a few days off. You know how she feels about illness, especially if it involves poop.
Anna smiled. She knew a few days off meant that Rosa and Mel would be pitching in and taking her classes.
Rosa hated the old folks’ classes. They liked to line dance and every few weeks there was some kind of issue: a popped hip, a bladder accident, or an angina attack.
The whole old folks’ class was an insurance risk waiting to happen, but Madame Celeste was all about bringing the joy of dance to anyone who desired it, no matter their age or health.
Rosa, who had very little patience, was throwing herself on a grenade by taking that class.
Anna sat on the maybe-gross mattress and looked around the room. It was mostly clean now, apart from the disheveled bed. She stood, corrected the mattress, and re-read Mel’s messages from the previous night. After a few deep breaths, she drafted a reply.
Anna: Thanks Mellie. I’m taking the day to de-stink myself and pull myself together. Then, I’m going to Shane’s work. Rosa found him on LinkedIn. Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need back up. This heroine is gonna be brave. But if I die, you’ll know who killed me.
Mel: Nah, I’m telling you. He’s your HEA. *laughing face emoji* Worst-case scenario is he confronts his wife, and Mason is made aware that it's all out now. And if that happens, who cares? You were gonna dump his ass anyway. It just will be sooner than you planned.
Taking a deep breath, Anna set about showering and becoming one of Mel’s romance novel heroines. She could do this.