Chapter 12
ALICE - NOW
I still can’t believe Cody came in here like that. He hugged me. And telling him about what Brayden has done made me feel better, for some reason.
I’m still embarrassed by the whole thing. Humiliated, really, that Brayden would have slept with Jericha while I was missing.
But I’m going to move on and get past it, because they’re the ones who should be embarrassed. I did nothing wrong.
I remember back to what Landon said about running. It used to be my refuge. Maybe…maybe today is the day to try it.
First, I get undressed and put on underwear and a sports bra. Then the running pants. I clip off the tags, my eyes widening at the realization of just how much money Landon must have spent at Navarre on Sunday.
Next, the athletic socks, and then the shoes.
I tried them on in the store, marveling at the cloud-soft feeling they give my feet.
I’m weightless in these. I could run for miles and miles, faster and faster.
In these shoes, I could outrun any kidnapper.
I could outrun Brayden’s recriminations. I could even outrun my past.
No, that’s impossible. As much as I want a fresh start and a clean slate, life doesn’t happen like that. I’m still married to Brayden. I’m still confused, still afraid.
I take the shoes off and throw them at the floor by the foot of my bed. I can’t do this. Maybe another day, but not today.
I’m fighting my way out of my sports bra when my phone rings.
The number isn’t in my contacts list. I hesitate before curiosity wins out.
With my arm still stuck halfway between the bra straps, I lean over to awkwardly slide a finger over the screen to answer the call, quickly putting the phone on speaker. “Hello?”
“Alice. It’s me.”
Jericha. She sounds like she’s been crying.
“Is everything okay? Is the baby okay?”
She sniffles. “The baby’s fine. I just want to talk to you. Do you have time?”
“Yes.” I hate that she’s crying, that she’s sad. Maybe she didn’t mean any of this, and she’s still my friend. I should be there for her.
“Can you meet me at my house?” she asks.
“No, I don’t have a car.” I finally get free of the sports bra, exhaling in relief while I search for my regular bra. “I can get downtown—can you meet there?”
“I guess so.” She sounds disappointed. “Are you sure you can’t make it to the Community?”
“I’m very sure.” Landon and Cody are at work, and although Landon hooked my phone up to his credit card for a ride app, I refuse to use it unless there’s an emergency.
As much as I used to consider Jericha my friend, her tears do not count as an emergency.
Especially after I learned she and Brayden got approval from the Elders for their pregnancy. They didn’t accidentally fall into love, seeking each other out for comfort in the aftermath of my kidnapping. This pregnancy was calculated, planned.
An aching, hollow feeling settles in my chest. I wasn’t important enough to mourn. Not to him, not to her.
And yet, I woke up to dozens of texts from Brayden.
Some were sweet, reminding me of dates we went on when we first met.
One was a copy of the Seven Blessed Days marriage vows, with the line about “holding fast and holding firm with love and respect” highlighted.
I didn’t respect you, he added. I will never make that mistake again.
He added an old selfie of the two of us.
He snapped the pic soon after our engagement, when we took a day trip to Mirarosa and hiked along the cliffs overlooking the ocean.
Our arms are wrapped around each other in the picture, and although I’m looking at the camera, he’s staring at me with clear adoration in his eyes.
That was the Brayden I married. Can he come back to me?
The final text that came in the middle of the night read, I’m sorry for all that you’ve been through, and for the situation you came home to. I want to fix this, Alice. I shouldn’t have given up on you when you disappeared, and I hope you won’t give up on me.
I don’t even know what to think anymore.
“So you’ll meet me?” Jericha asks, interrupting my wandering thoughts. She sniffles, as if punctuating her emotional distress.
“Yeah.” We decide on a coffee shop and agree to meet in twenty minutes.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. She’s surely trying to get something out of me. Going to meet her is probably the stupidest thing I’ve done since I went running alone in Blackberry Park thirteen months ago.
Twenty minutes later, I walk into San Estebean.
Jericha is already sitting at a table. Her maroon maternity shirt billows around her, and her brown hair is pulled up in a sleek bun.
An herbal tea rests in front of her on the table, with a second one placed in front of the empty chair, presumably for me.
Maybe I’m petty, but I don’t want to drink something she picked out for me.
I order a coffee, paying with some cash Landon pushed into my hand yesterday “just in case you’re out alone and want a little treat.
” I wait at the counter, trying to gather my resolve.
My iced latte is ready. I take it to Jericha’s table and carefully scoot aside the tea she got for me. It’s probably poisoned, anyway. I don’t trust her for a second.
She isn’t crying anymore. In fact, there’s no sign of tears on her face, no red-rimmed eyes or blotchy skin. Either she was never crying, or she recovered in record time. My money is on the former.
“So,” I say, “what is it?”
“We’ve been friends for a long time.” Her green eyes meet mine.
“Yes.” Which is why it hurt so bad that you slept with my husband.
“I know this must be hard for you.” She smiles down at her baby bump.
“How far along are you?”
She scrunches her button nose. “Oh, Brayden didn’t tell you?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Today marks thirty weeks.” She pats her stomach fondly.
I do some quick math. Almost eight months. This means she got pregnant when I’d been missing for about five months.
Five months. And that’s only when she got pregnant. When did they start having sex?
I lock down my anger and take a shaky sip of my iced latte. “You gave up on me that fast?”
For the first time, she looks impatient. “It wasn’t about you, Alice. Not everything is. This was about me, and Brayden. Which is what I want to discuss with you.”
I’m not sure how to respond. I never thought everything was about me, did I?
Maybe when I was a teenager. I remember my mom once complaining, “It’s Alice’s world, I guess, and we’re all just living in it.
” The comment had hurt at the time, but she was actually right—I was a self-absorbed teenager. I thought I grew out of it.
“Anyway.” Jericha sips her tea and gives me a gentle smile. “If you convince him to divorce, then he and I can be together.”
I couldn’t have heard her correctly. “What?”
She slows down, enunciating every word like I’m a child. “If you talk him into divorcing you, the Elders will approve it. He has to be the one to request it.”
Divorce is rare in Seven Blessed Days, and it’s only granted if the husband makes the request. The wife has no rights.
I think back to the texts he’s been sending me. “He doesn’t want a divorce, though.”
“He actually does.” Her lips twist in regret. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, and we need to get the process underway if he’s going to be married to me by the time our baby is born.”
She’s lying. She’s manipulating me. She’s flaunting her pregnancy and how the father is my husband, and she’s using me to get her way. A slow-simmering indignation builds in my chest. I take another sip of my latte, hoping to quench it, but it does no good.
“He wants to divorce me?” I hold up my phone, showing her the dozens of texts Brayden has sent over the past few days. “That’s not what he’s telling me. He’s saying he wants to reconcile.”
“That’s bullshit,” she hisses.
“So which of you is lying?” I show her the photo he sent of the two of us in Mirarosa and quote, “‘Alice, we should be holding fast and holding firm with love and respect. I want to fix this.’”
“You’re making this up.” She folds her arms across her chest and her green eyes flash at me.
“I’m not.” The petty part of me resurfaces—the petty part that refused Jericha’s tea and got a latte instead.
Maybe I’m not sure about Brayden anymore, but I’ll be damned if I roll over and let Jericha manipulate me like this.
I don’t want to be the pushover I used to be.
“He wants a chance, and I have to give it to him.”
“Screw you, Alice.” Jericha raises her voice. “You don’t care about me, you don’t care about my baby!”
“What are you talking about?” I whisper, trying to get her to quiet down. The last thing I want to do is cause a scene.
Jericha dissolves into a hysterical, crying mess. “My baby,” she sobs. “My baby! You hate him!”
Several people sitting nearby turn to stare. They give me dirty looks.
This is a nightmare. I’ve been taught to behave impeccably. To remain unobtrusive, don’t ask for attention, exist to make things easier for everyone else around me. That’s not…this.
An old man squints at me, expression full of disgust, as I get up and hurry out of the coffee shop. So much for that scene I didn’t want to cause.
When I’m outside, I can still hear Jericha crying. I risk a glance over my shoulder and see several women crowded around her, fussing over her and handing her tissues to wipe her tears.
A little girl, who can’t be more than eight, sees me looking at them. She flips me off.
I hurry back to Landon and Cody’s building. I’m glad I never liked San Estebean all that much, because now I can never go back.
LANDON - NOW
Cody and I came home earlier from work than we usually do. I don’t know his reasoning, but mine is that I want to see Alice.
Just my luck, she isn’t here. A note on the counter informs us that she went out for coffee with an old friend. I shouldn’t be worried, but she hasn’t mentioned friends lately. I want her to have friends, but who is this person showing up out of nowhere when she’s at her most vulnerable?
I start chopping vegetables and chicken to fry up for dinner, brooding.
“What’s your problem?” Cody leans against the doorframe.
“Nothing. Want to make yourself useful and start the rice?”
“Not particularly.” But he gets to work. “You know what your problem is, don’t you?”
I glower at the garlic clove beneath my blade. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”
“It’s her. That’s your problem.”
“She isn’t a problem.”
“She’s a problem for me.”
I drop my knife and turn to face him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You fucking brought her here,” Cody says. “I didn’t ask for that. You didn’t even check if it was okay.”
“Because I didn’t think for a second that you’d act like such a gaping asshole about it.” I turn on the tap to pour myself a glass of water. I need to cool down before I sock him in the nose. Beneath the sound of the water, another noise reaches my ears. “Wait…”
I turn around, my brain cataloging what I just heard—the elevator door.
Shit. Alice is home. How much did she hear?