She's Up to No Good
Sara Goodman Confino
CHAPTER ONE
“I met someone.”
I didn’t look up from my phone, my legs curled under me on the sofa as I scrolled real estate listings. “Oh! I meant to tell you; I did too. Remember that girl with the horrible, yappy dog? Her name is Vanessa. She’s actually nice. I’m following her on Instagram now.”
“No. I—” Brad stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. “I mean I met someone, met someone.”
This time I looked up, my eyes narrowing. “What does that mean?” He didn’t respond. His shoulders were hunched, his face set in a pained grimace as if bracing for an attack. I glanced down at his left hand, saw his thumb worrying the white gold band that he had worn for the last four years, and felt something in my stomach drop. “Oh.”
He sank into the chair opposite me. “Jenna—I—I’m sorry.”
I exhaled audibly and nodded. “Well. Okay. It’s done, though, right? We’ll—we’ll get some counseling, and we’ll—we’ll deal. People do . . . things . . . and they come through it.”
His eyes widened. “No.”
“What do you mean no? No, it’s not over with . . . her? Or no you don’t want . . . ?”
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t realize my phone was still in my hand until I threw it across the sofa. “Stop saying that!” He winced, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, but I fought it back and got myself under control. “But—we were looking for a house.”
“I know.”
“And were going to start trying for a baby once we were in the house.”
“I know.”
“And you . . . you were . . . lying . . . when you said you wanted that?”
“Not . . . lying exactly. I do want kids. And I thought maybe it would help. Look, I wasn’t trying to find someone else. It just happened. And it made me realize how unhappy we were.”
“I was happy!”
He looked like he was going to argue, and I felt my hopes rise. Not that I wanted to fight, but if he was willing to, there was still a chance. I could get him to come around. But then he changed course. “Okay. I haven’t been. We fight all the time. We barely ever have sex anymore. And I’m tired of having to pretend everything is perfect when it’s not.”
I took a deep breath. He wasn’t wrong exactly. We had been fighting a lot. And sex? It couldn’t have been that long, could it? No, I couldn’t remember the last time we actually did it, but it couldn’t have been more than—I stopped myself. If I had to calculate, it wasn’t a good sign. But . . . that didn’t mean we weren’t happy. Maybe there were some cracks in the foundation, but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t fix.
“We can work on all of that. We can go talk to someone. We can—we can take a trip. Get away. Just the two of us. Reconnect. Put the baby stuff on hold for a little while. I mean, not too long. We’re not getting any younger. But a little while. Until we’re on more solid ground. We’ll go back to that resort we went to on our honeymoon—we’ve been saying for years we should go back. We were so happy there. We’ll go there, and we’ll just . . . fix this.”
Brad shook his head. “I don’t want to work on fixing things anymore. It shouldn’t be this hard. You and I were always better on paper than in person. And with Taylor, it’s just . . . easy.”
“Taylor? She’s twenty-two, isn’t she? You’re leaving me for a cliché.”
Brad jerked his head to the side to crack his neck, which made me cringe. He knew I couldn’t stand when he did that and apparently didn’t care anymore. “Don’t you see? This is exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t even care that I’m not happy. You just care about how you’re going to look when you tell people.”
I glared at him. How dare he act like I was shallow for not caring about his feelings when he was leaving me for a twenty-two-year-old?
My mouth dropped open to argue. To tell him that he was the one who didn’t care about my feelings. But all that came out was a whisper.
“But we’re married.”
Brad leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and began to speak, his tone earnest, but I only heard phrases over the roaring in my ears. Unhappy for a while now . . . realized I was relieved when you weren’t pregnant . . . fighting so much . . . not in love anymore . . . both deserve better.
I interrupted him mid-sentence. I may not have comprehended much of what he said, but I had heard enough. “You won’t even try?”
“I’m sorry.”
“But—we just ordered a Peloton. It hasn’t even come yet!”
He shook his head, rolling his eyes slightly. “You can have it.”
“I don’t care about the stupid Peloton!” He flinched. I looked up at him. “So, what? You’re just . . . leaving?”
He cleared his throat again, and this time I felt my chest clench as I realized the next problem. “Tonight, yes. And you can stay as long as you need to until you figure out what you want to do. But—” I held up a hand and he stopped talking. I knew what was coming. The condo was his before we got married. I had never been on the deed. And as a middle school teacher, I knew it was way, way out of my price range. “I’ll help you out as much as you need to get on your feet.”