Never Let You Go(24)

“Our marriage isn’t working. I’m not happy. You’re drinking all the time—and Sophie sees, she knows. You won’t let me do anything. You’re so controlling. I feel like I’m suffocating.” I saw him flinch but the words were tumbling out of me. “I’m going to take Sophie and move in with my parents for a little while. If you get help, go to AA, maybe we can—”

“You can’t leave.”

“I’ve already decided.”

As soon as I said the words, it was like someone pulled a mask over his face. Everything smoothed out, his cheeks, his forehead, even his mouth straightened, and his eyes went blank.

“We’ll talk about it tonight, okay?” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get to work.” He sounded so calm now. It was like we were talking about what to cook for dinner. I’d expected him to go ballistic. I searched his face, confused. Didn’t he understand what I was saying?

He walked over to the counter, grabbed his lunch box, and left without giving me a kiss. I stood at the window and watched his truck disappear.

I told myself that he just needed to think it over. He’d take some time today and then he’d understand that he needed professional help. He had to see that this was best for everyone.



I dropped Sophie off at junior kindergarten, watched her trudge inside, her Barbie backpack so full it was almost pulling her over. She’d been quiet, her coloring book on her lap. I wondered if she heard her father and me talking that morning. I rubbed at the bone under my breast, caught my breath at the sharp stab of pain when I thought about how her face lit up when he said he was going to take her to the job site or to the hardware store with him, how she did a little dance and ran to the door. It didn’t matter where he took her, she was always thrilled.

Tonight. He said we could talk tonight. I had to prepare, steel myself for what was to come. I couldn’t let myself weaken now. I shifted, winced at my sore back. I needed to find a lawyer.

There was no way I could use my cell—Andrew went over the bill every month and asked about any strange numbers. I found a pay phone near a coffee shop, flipped through a phone book, and made an appointment with a female lawyer for later in the week.

My cell chirped beside me. It was a text from Andrew.

Forgot my lunch. Can you bring it?

He wanted me to bring him lunch? Did he think pretending everything was okay was going to make it true? He didn’t even like me visiting the job site and he could easily buy lunch somewhere or come home. My heart was racing fast, and my car felt too hot and small. I kept looking at my phone. I’d never ignored him before. My phone chirped again.

Lindsey?

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t pick it up.

Don’t do this.

Nothing for a few minutes.

Maybe I’ll take Sophie out for lunch.

He’s never gotten her from school before. Not at lunch. He was planning something. I grabbed my phone with shaking hands. Damn it. I’ll be there in a half-hour.



The job site was busy and loud with equipment and men moving back and forth. I searched through the workers, looking for Andrew’s familiar shape. Finally I spotted him near a cement truck. My breath was tight in my throat again as I got closer. Was he going to want to have a talk in his office? He was with a man, their white hard hats reflecting the sun.

I walked up beside him. “Andrew?”

He glanced at me, shifted his hard hat, and wiped at some sweat on his brow. “Hi, babe. I’ll just be a moment. They’re pouring the foundation.” The barrel of the cement truck spun around as the heavy gray wet mass flowed down the chute. He turned to the man. “Every time I see cement, I think of Jimmy Hoffa.”

The guy laughed. “No shit. He’s probably in an underground parkade somewhere.”

“Makes you wonder how many bodies are buried on job sites.” Andrew threw his arm around my shoulder. “That’s how you can get rid of me, babe.”

I couldn’t move, my hand gripping Andrew’s lunch bag. The other man was smiling, but he looked confused. The man was watching me now. Should I make a joke? Brush it off?

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to get my hands dirty.” Both men laughed, but I could hear the tension in Andrew’s throat, the forced tone. He was furious.

“It would be simple,” Andrew said. “You could toss me in here and the guys would backfill over me and no one would ever know.” He grabbed me, held me over the edge. I clutched at him. If he let go, I’d fall.

“Andrew!” I screamed.

He pulled me back toward him and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug, his cheek against mine. “Hey, relax. I’m just messing around.”

The other man was still laughing. He thought this was all part of the joke—Andrew and I were having fun. Andrew pressed his lips against mine and I was forced to kiss him back, watching over his shoulder as the man turned away, his face red.

Andrew finally let go and took the lunch bag from my hand. “Thanks for bringing this.” He pulled a sandwich out of the bag. “Roast beef. My favorite.” He took a big bite and chewed methodically as he focused back on the cement truck. The other man had moved around the side and was talking to the truck driver. I looked up at Andrew. His face was a cold mask.

“See you at home, honey.” He walked away.