The Wife Between Us(103)

“I hate for you to see me like this. I’m a wreck.”

If I didn’t know the truth, I would be certain she was innocent of any ulterior motives.

“Even when you’re sick, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

I still know Richard so well. He genuinely means every word. If Emma expressed a craving for a strawberry sorbet or cozy cashmere socks, he’d scour Manhattan to get her the best. He’d sleep on the floor next to her if she said it would make her feel better. This is the part of my ex-husband’s nature that is the most difficult to expunge from my heart. At this moment, just like his profile through the keyhole, it is all I can see.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Then I immediately force them open. I’ve learned the danger of failing to observe the things I don’t want to behold.

If Emma didn’t live up to Richard’s expectations—and it was inevitable that she would fail to—there would be consequences. If she wasn’t the wife of his fantasies, he would hurt her, then give her jewelry to smooth it over. If she didn’t provide the family or create the kind of home he desired, he would systematically assault her reality and twist it until it became unrecognizable even to her. And worst of all, he would take away whatever or whomever she loved the most.

“I’ll tell Maureen you need to cancel tomorrow,” Richard says to Emma.

Perfect, I think. This delay could buy us some more time to figure out how to best extract Emma.

But instead of agreeing, Emma says, “No, I’m sure I’ll be better if I just get some rest.”

“Anything you want, my love, but the most important thing is you.”

Even through the closet door I can feel the magnetic pull of his charisma.

I was holding on to the hope that Emma would begin to create distance between her and Richard tonight. But after only a few minutes in his presence, she seems to be wavering.

Through the keyhole, I can see their clasped hands. His thumb is gently stroking her wrist.

I want to leap out of the closet and wrench them apart; he is swaying her. Luring her back to him.

“Besides, Maureen has to come over so I can show her my wedding dress.” That dress is now hanging six inches to my left; Emma tucked it in here so Richard wouldn’t see it. “Plus we have those fun wedding errands. You don’t think I’m going to let you do the cake tasting alone, do you?” she continues in a playful voice.

This is the opposite of what should be happening. The Emma of right now is a completely different woman from the one of twenty-four hours ago who asked me, as we stood in this same room, how Richard could be so wonderful yet so brutal.

I cannot hold my position any longer. I slowly lift my right knee off the floor and plant my foot gently down. I repeat the motion with my left leg. Inch by agonizing inch, I rise. Dresses and shirts engulf me, silky fabrics sliding across my face.

A hanger clinks against the metal rod, the sound as delicate and precise as a wind chime striking a single note.

“What was that?” Richard asks.

I cannot see anything.

His citrus scent surrounds me, or am I imagining it? I suck in a shallow inhalation. My heart pounds violently. I am terrified I will pass out, my body thumping against the closet door.

“Just my creaky old bed.” I hear Emma shift, and miraculously, the bed squeaks. “I can’t wait until I only sleep in yours.”

Again, I am stunned by her lightning-quick subterfuge.

Then Emma says, “But there is one thing I need to tell you.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

She hesitates.

I sink back down to peer through the keyhole again. I wonder why she’s drawing out their conversation. She knows how clever Richard is; doesn’t she want him out of the apartment before he figures out she isn’t really sick?

“Vanessa called me today.”

My eyes widen and I barely suppress a gasp. I can’t believe she has set me up again.

Richard barks an expletive and violently kicks the wall next to Emma’s dresser. I feel the vibrations through the floorboards. I see his fists clench and unclench.

He stands facing the wall for a few moments, then he turns around to look at Emma.

“I’m sorry, baby.” His voice is strained. “What bullshit did she tell you this time?”

Emma has chosen to believe Richard. The act she has been putting on was to trick me. I can call 911, but what will the police think if Emma and Richard tell them I broke in here?

Emma’s clothes are suffocating me. There’s no air in this small closet. I’m trapped. I feel the grip of claustrophobia descend as my throat tightens.

“No, Richard, it wasn’t like that. Vanessa apologized. She said she’s going to leave me alone.”

My head is swimming. Emma is so far off any script I could have anticipated that I can’t even guess at her intentions.

“She’s said that before.” I can hear Richard breathing heavily. “But she keeps calling and coming to my office and writing letters. She won’t stop. She’s insane—”

“Honey, it’s okay. I really believe her. She sounded different.”

My legs feel as if they’ve turned to liquid. I have no idea why Emma created this pretense.

Richard exhales. “Let’s not talk about her. I hope we never have to again. Can I get you anything else?”