Chapter 1 The Shitty Husbands Club
THE SHITTY HUSBANDS CLUB
“A toast to Bryce and Elise. May they find another twenty years of wedded bliss!” a voice from the crowd called out.
A good wife would raise her glass without a thought. She wouldn’t protest that it had only been nineteen years. She’d smile and pretend to be happily married. A good wife would sell the lie. She wouldn’t let the cracks show. That was what a good wife would do.
Too bad I was tired of being a good wife.
“It’s nineteen years,” I corrected and swallowed the bitter champagne in a breathless gulp. If I had to pretend to be happily married, it would be easier if I were drunk.
“What’s your secret?” an obnoxious voice called from the crowd. It belonged to Todd, one of my husband Bryce’s pretentious golf associates and fellow shitty husband.
“Lots of drinking,” I said, reaching past my beloved husband for the bottle of champagne.
“She jokes.” Bryce pushed the bottle out of my reach and pulled me closer.
I knew what was next, some rehearsed line he had pulled from the Shitty Husband Manual.
A manual scratched across the walls of every men’s bathroom from here to Italy.
“I think, no, we know a strong marriage is based on give and take. It’s remembering that no matter what life throws at you, you always have each other’s back. Right, sweetheart?”
I didn’t know whose secret that was, but it certainly wasn’t ours.
Our marriage was not about give and take or supporting each other.
Our marriage had evolved into a disastrous mix of infidelity, lies, and marble countertops.
“Is that what our secret is? And here I thought it was me being a loving and supportive wife in all your endeavors. Even those I’m not supposed to know about.
” I refilled my glass. “But we’ll go with give and take. Cheers.”
“That’s my Elise. Always the comedian.” Bryce took the glass out of my hand and whispered, “You’ve had enough champagne.”
“You’re right. I should switch to something stronger.” To those watching, we were Elise and Bryce, the perfect couple. We had the perfect marriage, the perfect son, and a house in the perfect neighborhood. A perfect husband for a perfect wife. A perfect lie for everyone to see.
I picked a brunette hair off his jacket. I hadn’t been that color since college. “How is Abby?” She had been his latest endeavor.
“Don’t start, Elise. We’re supposed to be celebrating our love for each other.” He tipped my chin up and kissed me on the lips.
Those around us whistled and cheered at the seemingly loving gesture. I pulled away, smiling for those watching. “If you ever do that again, I’ll punch you in the face,” I whispered.
Bryce’s expression never changed as he turned to his audience. “Please enjoy the food and open bar. My wife and I have something to take care of.” Bryce winked at the guests as he grabbed my elbow, dragging me away from the crowd. “Why are you such a bitch?”
I caught a hint of foreign perfume on him.
This would be number four. Or the fourth one I was aware of.
The last three I had quietly brushed under the rug, too embarrassed to admit there had been three others.
I knew that sounded stupid. Why hadn’t I left after the first or even the second?
Because I was young and dumb. And now… I was older and tired.
“Why would you throw yourself a party for a marriage that’s failing? You and I are not in a good place.”
“No. You are not in a good place. I am deeply in love with my beautiful wife.”
“Bullshit. You are in love with yourself. And apparently your assistant. How is she? Still twenty?” This argument had less to do with the other woman and more to do with us falling into old habits.
Bryce frowned and shook his head as if I were some petulant teenager who didn’t get her way.
“You have nothing to worry about, sweetheart. You look great for your age. Abby is just my assistant.” Bryce stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Your birthday is in a few months, and I hear forty is the magic number for women. I hear their sex drive is insatiable.”
"As a college professor, I would expect you to be able to do basic math. I’ll be thirty-nine in November.
And if that’s what you’re hearing, get your hearing checked.
” There was very little about my husband I found desirable at that point in our marriage.
Some people found him appealing. He still had a head of dark hair and was in relatively good shape for a fifty-year-old.
“This marriage is falling apart. The only thing we should be celebrating is the fact I haven’t killed you.
And by the way, fifty is too old for ripped jeans. ”
“And black makes you look old. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to see to our guests,” Bryce said mockingly before joining Todd and the rest of the shitty husbands.
“I hope you choke on your pad thai,” I mumbled, running my hands over my hips.
“Ouch, resorting to violence.”
I whirled around to see my assistant, Cameron. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Don’t you have a date?”
“What, and miss this train wreck?” Cameron kissed my cheek. “We just stopped by to congratulate the happy couple before heading off to dinner. Love the pink; it’s so you.”
The room had been beautifully decorated.
I was sure this was what it would look like if Barbie exploded.
There were fifty shades of pink everywhere.
The champagne was pink, the cake was pink, and some guests were wearing pink.
“Yeah, it goes with the theme of the party, Ten Things Elise Would Hate. Where’s Mr. Wonderful?
” I scanned the crowd of slightly familiar faces for one that didn’t fit in with the middle-aged college professors and used car salesmen.
“His name is Matt, but he might be Mr. Wonderful. Did I tell you he works for IBM and his parents have a cabin on Lake Minnetonka? He’s everything I love in a man: tall, blonde, and handsome.
You might want to tell your Martha Stewart friend to save the party decorations.
There may be wedding bells in my future. ” Cameron elbowed me, winking.
“Marriage? Wow, this is serious.” Cameron had been my assistant for almost seven years.
I’d hired him when he was a college intern.
He wasn’t the most detail-oriented then, and nothing had changed in the last seven years.
He once booked me a flight to Athens, Greece instead of Athens, Georgia.
But Cameron had a skill I lacked: patience.
He had the ability to spend hours poring over expense reports to find a two-dollar mistake.
“Matt is the first guy I feel a genuine connection with. None of the other guys I’ve been with would want to come to something like this.
But Matt did. He’s so romantic. He thought we could take a few pointers from the happy couple.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was you and Bryce we were talking about.
Speaking of your beloved, why would you let your fifty-year-old husband leave the house in ripped skinny jeans and a vintage tee? ”
“He’s trying to prove he’s still hip and relevant.
The jeans are the latest in his updated wardrobe.
” He was also growing out his hair, which made him look like the lead singer of some has-been eighties band.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t wear skinny jeans.
He was just too old for a fashion our nineteen-year-old son, Jesse, had given up years ago.
“Well, it’s not a vintage tee if he actually wore it in the eighties. Why straight men can’t dress is beyond me.”
Bryce mingled with his guests. There had to be a reason he threw himself a nineteenth anniversary party. He had missed our tenth for a ski trip and our fifteenth to go trout fishing in Alaska. Maybe he was going to announce he had joined a circus. That would be the best gift he could give me.
Cameron leaned against the bar. “You, on the other hand. Nice dress. I see you didn’t take my advice and wore black to an anniversary celebration. This isn’t a funeral.”
“Says who?” The champagne wasn’t cutting it.
I ordered a vodka soda from the bartender.
I had hoped my boss, Sam, would be here tonight.
The announcement of who they’d hired for the management position I applied for should’ve been today.
The position would be more money, more responsibility, and a move to Tampa.
But as of four o’clock this afternoon, nothing had been decided. “Did Sam say if he was coming?”
“No, he and a few higher-ups are having dinner with the newest Tampa manager. I overheard Tracy making dinner reservations. She told me that—oh shit.” Cameron covered his mouth. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
I wanted that job, and there was no tangible reason I shouldn’t have gotten it.
Not only had I been with Paradise Blue for almost fifteen years, longer than any other account manager, I’d been working on the Tampa accounts while the company went through the hiring process. “When was Sam going to tell me?”
Cameron chewed on his bottom lip. “Tomorrow. He didn’t want to ruin your party.”
“Who’d they hire?”
“Jordan.”
“Jordan? He’s been with the company for five years.
Fuck.” I downed the vodka soda and ordered another.
“Skip the soda. Just give me the vodka,” I told the bartender.
There was another reason I had really wanted this job.
I knew Bryce would never move to Tampa, which gave me a simple reason for a divorce. One I wouldn’t have to explain.
“Elise, there will be other positions. You said yourself that the accounts are an effing mess. Besides, nobody with a college education moves to Tampa.”