The Good Widow(74)

He’d taken her to the movies and to get ice cream after. She was home by nine. And it had been the best date of her life.

How things had changed.

She’d become tired of living two lives—the safe one she had with Nick, where he rubbed her feet after her shifts while guilt consumed her. And then there was the dangerous life she had with James—slippery and uncertain. But she had finally decided it was the one that she wanted.

She sat on the toilet seat lid and traced the word journal on the cover of her leather-wrapped volume with her fingernail. She’d spilled coffee on the corner and pages of the diary were stained a light caramel color, but that was one of the things she loved most about it. That it was flawed just like she was—just like the people she wrote about inside its pages.

She turned to the first entry, recorded just two days after she met Nick. She’d dashed into Laguna Beach Books and bought the journal, ready to write down everything about this man who was so different.

I’ve met someone. He’s so incredibly charming! He makes all the others look like amateurs. Boys who thought they were men. Now I know the difference. Nick is a real man. I never want to forget the way it feels when he strokes my bare arm with his finger, like an electric charge is rushing through my body. And I’m trying to memorize the way he looks at me. Like he will never let anyone hurt me. Like he will always love me. It’s little things, but they mean something so big—like when he takes my hand and guides me across the street. Or how he sprints in front so I never have to open my own door. I’ve never had a man do that for me before. I feel cherished.

She sighed at that memory. Feeling cherished had started out as something sweet because he always made her feel like the most important person in the world. But it had eventually turned to something more along the lines of compulsion or ownership. Like she belonged to him. A trinket that he polished then put away in a glass case so no one else could touch her.

To test the waters with James, she had recently thrown out the idea that she was considering ending things with Nick. She didn’t get into the whys—that slope was too slippery to climb. She knew if she told James she only wanted him, he’d get spooked. His eyes had sparked slightly, but he’d made sure to let her know not to do it for him. Only to end things if it was best for her. She’d smiled and said, “Of course,” in what she’d hoped was a tone used by a very confident woman dating a married man.

She turned to a fresh page in her diary. Maybe she couldn’t tell James the truth, but she needed to be honest with herself. She needed to remind herself why it wasn’t working with Nick. So she didn’t lose her courage. She knew she’d be catching him off guard. Nick was always so invincible—never worried about things. Never anxious. Always so confident. She knew he’d try to convince her to stay, and he was so good at that—at making her believe he could take better care of her than anyone else ever could. That he loved her more than anyone else could. And maybe that was true. But James . . . it always came back to James.

I need to break up with Nick. But I’m scared—I know it’s the right thing in my gut, but I don’t want to hurt him. I also don’t want to live this double life anymore, when it’s James that I love and want to be with. Not that I can tell either of them that. That truth could make me lose everything. Since the night James told me he wanted to take me away to Maui, something changed inside of me. And something also changed with Nick.

Nick had been waiting for me in my apartment that night, the lamp casting a weird shadow across his face that made him look creepy. And he asked me where I’d been like he already knew. Maybe I was being paranoid. But he’s been hounding me about wanting to meet this Katie that I’d been out with. And I’m out of excuses for why I can’t introduce them. And I’m too afraid to put Katie in a position where she’d have to lie to Nick in person.

It’s like Nick has tightened his grip ever since that night. He’s always been possessive. But lately it’s been different, more intense. He’s had so many questions—way more than usual. Wanting to know everything from my work schedule to what I had for lunch. And he’s been texting constantly. If I don’t answer within a minute or two, he calls. It’s to the point where I almost wish he’d ask me if I’m cheating on him.

I have to get out.

Dylan closed the journal and wedged it deep in the overnight bag she had brought to Nick’s. “It’s time,” she said to her reflection, and walked out of the bathroom.



She found Nick pouring a glass of orange juice. He leaned in to kiss her, but she moved away.

“What’s wrong—did you wake up grumpy?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Dylan blurted.

“Do what?” he asked, drinking his juice.

“This,” she said, raising up her left hand and pointing to her ring.

Nick took a moment, as if registering what she was saying. Or rather what she wasn’t. She knew she needed to bring herself to say the words I can’t marry you, but they were stuck in her throat. The guilt from cheating on him with James was weighing on her. What if she’d never met James? Would she be perusing bridal magazines now?

“Are you breaking up with me?” Nick asked, setting his glass down on the counter with too much force, the juice slopping over the top.

Dylan nodded, but she couldn’t look at him. She stared at her bare feet.