The Good Widow(84)
That word is like a slap across the face. Because I was. Blind to it all. Pushing my stupid cart through Trader Joe’s, trying to pick the perfect fucking milk. Thinking my husband was where he said he was. Having no clue he was swimming with sea turtles with his lover, being trailed by some—
“And then they decided to drive the road to Hana. I saw them kissing by some store. Dylan was wearing this little dress—one I’d never seen before. That she’d clearly bought for him.”
“Stop it! Stop it right now!” I yell.
“No. You need to listen to me.” He holds up the purse. “I’m going to explain!”
But I don’t want to listen. I don’t want to know. I just need out of this car. I picture Dylan and James having their picnic, saying what would be some of their final words. Had James whispered that he loved her, told her how happy he was that he’d now have the family he’d always wanted? Or had my shadow been in the back of James’s mind, our tattered love still a placeholder in his chest?
“Once I was in Maui with you, it all made sense. Why they had the accident.”
Accident? I shake my head, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“The brakes giving out right when they did—at the cliff where there were no guardrails, where so many other accidents have happened—that was fate. When I pricked a tiny hole in the brake line, I had no way of knowing when or if James would lose control of that Jeep. That was between him and God. Everything happened the way it did because you were meant to be with me.”
I see James’s smile. His bed head. His lanky body. His sea-glass eyes.
I glance at Nick’s profile.
He really doesn’t think he’s responsible for killing them.
One man dead. Another responsible. I gave my heart to both of them.
A wave of nausea cascades through me, and I swallow the bile in my throat.
“What about the pregnancy test?” I whisper. “What did you think when you found that in her purse? Because you didn’t already know, did you?”
He shakes his head. “That was a surprise. But they’d made a fool of you. Of both of us,” he says. “It worked out as it should. Those two didn’t deserve to bring a baby into this world.”
“Nick! You can’t mean that!” I stare at him in disbelief. How could someone do something so horrific and not see it?
How could I have loved a man like that?
His arms go rigid. His jaw tightens. “I love you, Jacks. Don’t you get it?”
The sob I’ve been holding in finally escapes my throat. “Why aren’t you upset about what . . . you did to them?”
“What I did?” He’s yelling now.
“The brake line didn’t prick itself! You killed them!” I scream, my voice shaking with emotion.
He shakes his head. “That’s on him.”
“No!” I yell the word so loudly I don’t recognize the sound of my own voice. I yell at him for taking James. For Dylan. For that baby. “No! No! No! You killed them. Oh my God. How did I ever love you?” I’m sobbing so hard I can barely see the road. Fear and anger are swirling together inside me, and I’m not sure which feeling is more powerful.
“How can you say that?” He slams his hands on the dashboard. Dylan’s purse falls off of his lap onto the floor.
A sign. That I need to get out of this car. Now.
He looks at me, a rage in his eyes I have never seen before. I let out a startled yelp when he punches the radio, his knuckles covered in blood when he draws them back. I wipe my tears. We’re on a high stretch of highway that overlooks the beach, which is several hundred feet below—if I stop now, I’ll need to outrun him while dodging the traffic on the curvy road. I know I won’t get far.
Suddenly he lunges for the steering wheel, and I turn it sharply, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car. “What are you doing?” I scream.
“Why couldn’t you just love me? Why doesn’t anyone love me the way they’re supposed to?”
He gives me a long look that I can’t read, then grabs the wheel before I can stop him. He yanks it, and I fight to regain control, but he’s too strong. I scream as we slew off the road, the car smashing through the guardrail and sailing toward the sharp rocks that separate the canyon from the ocean.
In the next strange moment of sudden silence, I think about James—the day he proposed. The goofy grin on his face as he waited for me to answer. I picture my sister, the tears glistening in her eyes when I held up my college diploma. I see my parents on my wedding day, smiling widely through their apprehension, their love for me stronger than their fear I might be making a mistake. I listen to Nick’s screams bleeding into my own and realize that no one will ever know the truth—that he killed James and Dylan. That we are both going to die with his secrets and his lies.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
JACKS—AFTER
The first thing I hear is an incessant beeping sound.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Where am I?
Ding. Ding. Ding.
My foggy mind tries to take inventory of my body. There is pain. So much of it. Everywhere. In my legs. My arms. My chest. Especially in my head. I try to open my eyes, but they won’t cooperate.
“Her eyelids just fluttered! Call the nurse!” I hear my mom’s voice, more high pitched than normal, and feel someone squeeze my fingers. “Jacks, can you hear me?”