The Atonement (The Arrangement, #3)(17)

Ainsley had become so preoccupied with fixing us all, she’d let everything else fall by the wayside. We weren’t her projects, but you could never convince her of that.

As much as I loved my wife, I’d enabled her to become what she was, and now, I was paying the consequences.

My children were paying the consequences.

Farther into town, I pulled into a store’s parking lot and stopped the car. Inside the store, I moved down the aisles with purpose, seeking out some of the kids’ favorite things. For Maisy, I picked up three novels from the very limited young adult section. For Dylan, I found his favorite cologne, a book on one of his favorite musicians, and the expensive pomade he loved but rarely got. Riley was last and maybe the easiest—two bags of chips and a Harry Potter LEGO set I was pretty sure he didn’t already own.

With all of the kids’ gifts in the cart, I began to fret over what would bring Ainsley home. Would a gift be enough? An apology? What would convince her I forgave her enough to bring her home to me? I kept waiting for the phone to ring again—I wouldn’t be the one to call her, but if she called again, I just might answer.

I’d hoped she’d leave a voicemail, but no such luck.

Moving down the next aisle, I smelled perfumes and creams, deciding on a bath salt scrub I knew she loved and then moved to the women’s clothing. The hot-pink robe she loved so much had been destroyed in the fire, so I picked out a similar one and tossed it into the cart. If that wasn’t enough, I wasn’t sure what was. After all, she was the one who should be apologizing. She should be buying me gifts.

But this was just the kind of man I was.

Always giving.

Always thoughtful.

My wife was so lucky.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





AINSLEY





Checking into a hotel with cash was, apparently, not as easy as they make it appear on television. Despite the fact that I was willing to pay for the entire stay up front, the hotel required a card to be put on file.

“You’re sure this won’t end up on my statement at all?” I asked, for what must’ve been the third or fourth time. The woman behind the counter, whose name tag told me her name was Heather, didn’t meet my eye as she answered.

“I assure you, ma’am, unless there are damages, we won’t need to charge your card. You’ve put the cash deposit down for incidentals, so you’re covered. It’s just policy.” She looked up finally, making eye contact with each of the kids, and then me. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No.” I tapped the room key on the counter and stepped back. “Thank you.”

“Your elevator is this way.” She pointed down the hall to her right, turning back to the book she’d placed facedown and open on the counter when we walked in.

I led the kids toward the elevator, checking over my shoulder every few moments to be sure they were with me and we weren’t being followed. I knew my husband, and I knew what he was capable of under normal circumstances, but when fearing him, he’d suddenly turned into a supervillain in my mind.

I worried he’d bugged every room or building I entered. I worried he could disguise himself as everyone I passed. I worried he’d hacked my phone to track my location. It was maddening, not knowing where he was or what his next move would be. I considered calling him again, but if the last call was any indication, I assumed he wouldn’t answer.

The room we checked into was small and smelled vaguely of stale cigarette smoke despite it being a nonsmoking room. “Don’t put your bags on the floor,” I warned, when Riley dropped his next to the bed. “Germs.” They followed my lead, placing their bags next to mine on the desk on the far side of the room.

I spun around, my eyes traveling the room—the bright-white comforter and padded headboard, the mysteriously stained carpet, the raised water rings on the television stand. It wasn’t the nicest hotel I’d ever stayed at—far from it, in fact—but it was somewhere we could stay for quite a while with the cash I’d withdrawn, and that was what I needed.

“Alright, I need a shower. What do you guys want to do tonight? Should we order pizza?”

“I want to go home, Mom. That’s what I want to do tonight.” I turned to face my son, surprised by the harshness of his tone. Dylan stared at me, his jaw tight. He looked so much like his father at that moment it brought tears to my eyes. He gestured toward Riley at his side. “We all do.”

I released a puff of air, sinking down onto the bed behind me. “I know, guys. I know.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut to stave off the migraine I could feel forming. “Look, I’ve been trying to avoid this, but…” I patted the bed next to me finally. There was no use trying to lie anymore. They needed to know something. I couldn’t keep hiding it all from them. This wasn’t the arrangement anymore. They deserved to know as much as I could tell them. “It’s time I told you all what’s going on.”

Maisy sat down beside me. Her features were so childlike, maybe more than I’d noticed in so long. She was still a child. A baby. How could I ever tell her the truth about the horrors her parents had caused?

Dylan and Riley took a seat opposite us, their stances and expressions so similar it was getting hard to tell them apart.