Before She Knew Him(58)
Matthew, filling his coffee cup, didn’t like his brother’s tone. He turned toward him. “What have you done?”
“Nothing that you haven’t done many times. Trust me. I’ve got to go. There’s an envelope in your office.”
After Richard left, Matthew stayed frozen in place for a minute, the coffee bitter in his mouth, his stomach a hard ball. He put the coffee down and, steeling himself, went into his office. There was a single white envelope propped up on the mantel against the replica Rosetta stone. Matthew went to it, felt that there was something hard inside, and ran his finger under the seal, ripping the envelope open. Inside was a set of two keys attached to a key ring. Also attached to the ring was a pink M made from plastic. Matthew felt the coffee rise at the back of his throat, and he closed his eyes, breathed in through his nostrils until the feeling passed. He recognized the key ring. It had belonged to Michelle Brine.
Chapter 28
Back in her enormous hotel room, Mira shucked off her flats, sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed, and rubbed her feet. As part of her most recent promotion, she had to attend only two trade shows a year instead of four or five. It was a mixed blessing; standing all day at a booth doing software demonstrations was hard work, but now that she did fewer of these events, she found her feet hurt so much more. She assumed she was out of practice, but maybe she was just getting older.
Her phone buzzed. It was John McAleer, texting to see what her dinner plans were. Years earlier, John had worked at her company. They’d been sent together to Clark County School District, and after two long days of presentations they’d gone out to dinner at Le Cirque in the Bellagio. Afterward, they’d had one more drink, at his insistence, back at the bar in their hotel. She’d expected him to make a pass—it wouldn’t be the first time she’d been hit on during a business trip—but she hadn’t expected him to tell her that he’d fallen in love with her, that his own marriage had collapsed after half a year, and that he was the loneliest man in the world. He’d actually cried, prompting Mira to almost suggest shifting the conversation to one of their hotel rooms, which could have been disastrous. Instead, she told him they could continue the conversation in the morning and she left the bar, going straight to her hotel room. Over breakfast the next morning he’d apologized profusely, but ended by saying that his feelings stayed the same. He was in love with her and that would never change, but he wouldn’t bring it up again, and he would start looking for a new job. He was true to his word. He never mentioned it again, and six months later he left Mira’s company for a job at one of the big textbook companies. Three months after that she heard he got a divorce.
And now he was here in Wichita, having swung by to see Mira on the exhibitors floor. He’d gained weight and lost some hair, and he greeted her with a lot of friendly chitchat. “I was wondering if you’d still be working here,” he said, laughing.
She thought the drop-by would be the extent of it, but now she was staring at a text from him. It sounded innocent—Mira, great seeing ya. A bunch of us are doing bbq, and wanted to see if you had plans. No biggie if you’re busy—but she did wonder if he’d been planning this encounter, knowing she’d be working the booth, contriving to “casually” walk by and ask her out to a group dinner. She remembered his words—“I will always be in love with you”—made herself wait five minutes, then texted back, Thanks, John, for the invite. I’ve just ordered room service. Exhausted!
She scooched back on the bed, grabbed the remote from the side table, and turned the television on. Maybe she just attracted obsessive men, she thought. She was thinking of Jay Saravan (she’d been thinking about him a lot lately, because of everything that was happening with Matthew). He’d been her first serious boyfriend; they’d met at freshman orientation during her first week at the University of New Hampshire. On just their second date, Jay had told her he loved her. It had been a shock, but not necessarily an unwelcome one. For one, he was incredibly handsome; he’d reminded her of a real-life version of the cartoon Aladdin she’d been obsessed with for much of her childhood. He had wide shoulders and a slender frame and perfect hair, with a dark lock that fell across his forehead. Like her, his parents were originally from Pakistan, but unlike her, he’d been raised somewhat religiously—he fasted during Ramadan and celebrated Eid—and had actually been to Pakistan. They’d had a whirlwind courtship and stayed attached at the hip all through freshman year. Mira had found him a little bit possessive and demanding, but his assertiveness was thrilling, and he was unswervingly romantic.
And then it all went terribly wrong during sophomore year. Jay convinced Mira to move to her own off-campus apartment, and once she was there, he began to insist that she end the few friendships she’d made her freshman year. She was allowed to attend classes, but not to attend any social events. He started telling her what to wear and what to eat. When she suggested that maybe they should take a break—that maybe they were too young to be in so serious a relationship—he’d twisted her arm so hard he’d broken the skin. After that, she’d learned to be careful about what she said, but he still had outbursts, mostly centered on the clothes she wore to her classes. His anger would start with almost innocent remarks—“What size is that skirt?”—and would usually end with him squeezing her arm (sometimes her face), yelling at her that she was a slut and a whore.