Lost Along the Way(92)

“I love you, too,” Cara said.

“Good. Now, are we ready to make it look like I’m banging your husband?”

“Wait. One more thing,” Meg said as she grabbed an eight-by-ten wedding photo from a console table by the fireplace. She placed it dead center on the table next to the couch, a clear indication to anyone who ever saw these pictures that they were taken in Reed’s home. There’d be no way for him to argue that they were Photoshopped, that the man wasn’t him, or that he’d never seen Jane before in his life. There’d be no way for him to explain anything. Now that they were actually doing this, Cara had to admit, this idea was freakin’ genius.

Illegal, but genius.

Sadistic, but genius.

Crazy, but genius nonetheless.

“Okay,” Nick said as he stepped back and hit the camera app on his phone. “This looks great. Clear as day. Jane, just make sure that we can see your face. There has to be no question it’s you.”

“I know that! This was my plan, remember?” she answered.

“I just want to make sure I get everything right! It’s a lot of pressure being the cameraman,” Nick said.

“Just start taking the pictures already. It’s cold in here and as much as I want to help Cara, lying on her naked husband isn’t exactly fun for me, so can we please move this along?” Jane ordered.

“Just one more second,” Cara said before she sprinted up the stairs and down the hall into the master bedroom. As she suspected, the pearl necklace was still lying on the nightstand, exactly where she’d left it. She grabbed it and ran back downstairs, handing the strand to Jane. “Put these on.”

“Why? Do you want me to eat them or something? Didn’t that look go out in the eighties?”

“No, I don’t want you to put them in your mouth. Everyone thinks these pearls are my signature. These pictures will be even better if you’re wearing my jewelry in them. How much of a pig do you have to be to let your mistress wear your wife’s necklace?”

“You might have a future in this,” Jane said. “That’s f*cking brilliant.”

Jane lowered the pearls over her neck, tousled her hair, and adjusted her visible boob one more time. Cara, Meg, and Nick stood back and examined their staging. Everything looked great, exactly how they’d talked about it. Better, in fact. Jane put her hand on Reed’s chest, arched her back, and said, “I’m ready for my close-up!”

And with that, Cara and Meg hurried upstairs to pack Cara’s things, and Nick began to quietly snap photos with his iPhone.





thirty


Cara sat on the beige chintz couch in her living room and held her breath when Reed began to stir. It was almost comical to watch him wake—confused, disoriented, cold—and downright hysterical to see the look on his face when he realized he was buck naked on the living room couch. He glanced out the window at the blue-and-gray-streaked sky, the orange glow of sunrise bouncing off the crystal lamp on the coffee table, and rubbed his temples. Cara exhaled slowly before she began.

“Good morning,” she said coolly, not sure that her tone completely registered. She was shocked that it had taken Reed as long as it did to wake up. Jane had said it would take a few hours, but she’d underestimated the power of Ambien on someone who never took so much as a Tylenol PM. He’d been out for almost eighteen hours. He sat up and rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes, then focused on the woman sitting across from him. Cara was sipping a glass of juice, fully dressed, which probably seemed strange to him for this time of the morning. Cara figured he’d find it even stranger that she wasn’t alone. Nick sat next to her on the couch, wearing a suit and tie, a briefcase resting on his lap. Reed immediately reached for the blanket on the back of the couch, as if that would somehow make any of this normal.

“Who are you?” Reed asked, his voice still groggy from his chemically induced slumber. Cara stared straight ahead, pretending that this was a business meeting or something—which, when she thought about it, was basically what it was. She watched as Reed tried to clear his head, no doubt wondering if he was hallucinating.

“My name is Nicholas Redmond. I’m Cara’s attorney,” Nick said calmly. If he was nervous, he wasn’t showing it. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying this. She was beginning to wonder if maybe she was, too.

“What? What are you talking about? Get out of my house!” Reed demanded. “What kind of lawyer shows up at someone’s home at this hour of the morning? My wife doesn’t need a lawyer. I don’t know who you are, but get the hell out of here. What time is it?”

“Six thirty,” Cara answered. “On Thursday.”

“I think you should hear me out. There are a few things that we need to discuss,” Nick said flatly. Cara enjoyed watching Reed as the cobwebs cleared and he started to focus on what was going on. She’d never seen such a look of utter bewilderment on his face before.

Actually, she loved it.

“Cara, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but you’ve exhausted my patience. It’s Thursday?” he asked, still groggy, confused, and growing more irate by the second.

“The feeling is mutual. I want a divorce,” she said, unflinching, as if this was a decision she’d made a long time ago. Hearing herself say the words made her wonder if maybe she had. Maybe she’d always known this day was coming and just needed Meg and Jane to give her directions to get here. Now that she’d said it out loud she felt lighter, like all of Reed’s insults and injuries were melting off her.