Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
JUDY
Present Day
The morning after Gabriel and Scarlett confess their affair to me, and that Sadie saw them on the beach, I can barely get out of bed.
It’s 6.15 a.m., and my body feels weighted down, as if someone poured liquid lead into my veins while I was asleep. Every attempt to move is met with resistance. My muscles refuse to obey my mind.
So, I lie there instead, staring at the ceiling, tracing the same hairline crack. It starts in the corner and spiders toward me, stopping just above my head. I follow it with my eyes, back and forth. Back and forth.
Funny how I’ve never noticed it before. Then again, I missed my husband sleeping with my best friend, so clearly observation isn’t my strong suit.
Gabriel and Scarlett were together the night Sadie disappeared.
The thought repeats itself like a loud, malfunctioning alarm.
I close my eyes, and the memory of that night presses in whether I want it to or not.
Gabriel and I had gone to dinner at Grilling Falcon at six, just the two of us before Sadie was due to come home the next day.
It’s an expensive restaurant, but we could afford it, and Gabriel always said we should splurge more. He earned very well and I did okay by myself. There was his trust fund as well to fall back on if things ever went south.
The food was delicious and we talked and laughed. It felt great having my husband around after he had been so busy with work, especially in the last few months.
After we paid, and before we stood up to leave, he took my hand and placed a sparkling ring in my palm, a brilliant blue sapphire encircled by tiny diamonds, nestled in a white gold setting.
I didn’t even see it coming.
“Why?” I whispered.
“Just because,” he said with a grin.
Now I know why he gave me that gift: it was to pay for his guilt. A prepayment for the ugly secret that would land between us exactly six months later.
When we arrived home around nine, I was so exhausted I didn’t even make it into the shower I planned to have. I remember changing and crawling into bed, the sheets cool against my skin.
I remember Gabriel lying beside me, kissing me, telling me how much he loved me. We talked about our romantic honeymoon at the Grand Cove Hotel, stupid little memories from our marriage.
About how excited we were that Sadie and Scarlett would be joining us the next day, how we were going to spend another week here together as a family, just the three of us. Scarlett was heading back home after three days with us.
I remember feeling safe, loved, and happy.
That was probably the last time I felt truly content. And I had no idea it was all built on a lie.
I remember him stroking my hair, my cheek, as I fell asleep in his arms.
That’s it.
After that, nothing until I woke up in the middle of the night and didn’t find him in our bed. How could I have known that he was with my best friend, that he snuck out while I slept to betray our marriage?
My eyes burn now, dry and aching from the crying I did last night.
That night I was so devastated that I didn’t even stop to wonder why Scarlett called him instead of me to share the news about Sadie.
But there’s no point dwelling on that now.
I need to focus on my daughter and not allow their affair to distract me. Sadie is more important than this heartache.
I’m moving into the camp today. I know now with absolute certainty that it has to be done.
It’s actually the perfect time to get out of this place.
Staying under the same roof as them feels unbearable, like breathing poisoned air.
If the camp wasn’t an option, I’d be packing my bags for a hotel already.
But check-in is at midday and it’s so early in the morning. So many hours to kill. Instead of lying here like a rock, I need to do something to help keep my mind occupied. I pull out my laptop and catch up on work.
By 9 a.m. I have a splitting headache, so I stop and go to the bathroom to swallow an aspirin.
Then I fetch coffee and a muffin from the kitchen, careful not to look at the closed bedroom doors as I walk past. Both Scarlett and Gabriel are still asleep, and I’m grateful for the quiet.
Back on my bed, I’m squinting at my laptop screen when the knock comes, three quick taps that send coffee sloshing over my fingers.
“Judy?” Scarlett’s voice. “Can I come in, please?”
I don’t respond, and the silence stretches between us like a taut wire. Three more taps, gentler this time.
The door handle moves, and the door swings open an inch. I swear under my breath for forgetting to lock it after coming back from the kitchen.
She peers through the gap. Her face is wrecked with tears, eyes swollen and red, skin blotchy.
“I have nothing to say to you, Scarlett.” Even uttering her name is painful.
“I know I hurt you.” Her voice barely carries across the room. “I don’t know how to—. I don’t know how to live with myself.”
“You’ve managed just fine for six months,” I cut in, my words sharp enough to slice. “You’ll survive.”
She recoils as if slapped. “I just want you to know that Gabriel was telling the truth. There’s nothing between us anymore. I swear.”
“Do whatever you want with each other.” I examine my fingernails, then meet her gaze. “I’m done with both of you.”
Her mouth quivers before she finds her voice again. “What I did… that wasn’t me. My marriage was over. I was so hurt and lost, and I just—”
“I just need one answer,” I interrupt.
She looks at me, waiting.
“Just tell me when.” My coffee mug trembles in my hand, so I set it down.
She looks at the floor, and a strand of hair falls across her face.
“Your conference in Tampa. Sadie had that fever, remember? I brought over chicken soup. After she fell asleep, Gabriel made coffee and he told me how he’d convinced Matt to increase my settlement, and I just—” She touches her collarbone, her fingers lingering where a necklace should hang.
“I reached for his hand and…” She pauses, swallowing hard.
“It just happened. We didn’t plan it. I didn’t plan it, Judy. I swear.”
My stomach lurches as if I’m on a boat hitting rough water.
I stare at her, but all I can think about is how her eyes are filled with guilt, or maybe fear. I can’t tell which.
I’m silent, trying to picture it: Scarlett collapsing into my husband’s arms with gratitude while my sick daughter slept in the other room. I want to ask what happened after that, but I won’t be able to handle it.
So I press my palms on my thighs, fighting a tremor of anger that ripples through me. “Get out.”
She lingers in the doorway, lips parted like she might say more, then pulls the door shut with a soft click.
My eyes blur with tears, but I blink them back.
The hot coal of betrayal burns in my chest and I let it, because anger is better than the numbness threatening to hollow me out.
But beneath all of it, stronger than everything else, is resolve. I will get out of here, go into that camp, and I will find my daughter and convince her to come home with me. And Scarlett will never touch anything I love again.