The Wife Between Us(104)

“All I want to do is sleep. And I don’t want you to get sick. You should go. I love you.”

“I’ll pick you and Maureen up at two tomorrow. I love you, too.”

I stay in the closet until Emma opens the door a few minutes later. “He’s gone.”

I bend and unbend my legs and wince. I want to ask her about the unexpected turn in her conversation, but her face is so expressionless that I know she only wants me out.

“Can I wait a few minutes before I leave?”

She hesitates, then nods. “Let’s go into the living room.” I catch her sneaking appraising looks at me. She’s wary.

“What are we going to do next?”

She frowns. I can tell my use of the word we chafes her. “I’ll figure it out.” She shrugs.

Emma doesn’t get it. She doesn’t seem to feel any urgency to call off the wedding. If Richard can be this compelling in a brief visit, what will happen when he feeds her bites of cakes, his arm wrapped around her waist, and whispers promises of how happy he’ll make her?

“You saw him kick the wall,” I say, my voice rising. “Don’t you see what he is?”

This is so much bigger than just Emma. Even if Richard lets Emma go—which I’m not convinced he’ll do—what about all the many ways in which Richard hurt me? And the woman before both of us, the dark-haired ex who couldn’t bear to keep that gift from Tiffany’s? I am now certain he hurt her, too.

My ex-husband is a creature of habit, a man ruled by routines. Whatever stunning piece of jewelry that glossy blue bag contained was his apology; his attempt to literally cover up an ugly episode.

Emma does not know that I intend to save any woman who could become Richard’s future wife.

“You have to end it soon. The longer it goes on, the worse it will be—”

“I said I’ll figure it out.”

She walks to the door and opens it. I reluctantly step past her.

“Good-bye,” she says. I have the distinct feeling she plans to never see me again.

But she’s wrong about that.

Because by now I know I need a plan of my own. The seed of an idea was planted as I watched Richard’s explosive flash of anger at the mention of my name, my fictitious call. It takes shape in my mind as I walk down the blue-carpeted hallway, following the path Richard took only minutes ago.

Emma thinks Maureen is coming over to see the wedding gown tomorrow, then they’ll go cake tasting with Richard.

She has no idea what will really happen.





CHAPTER





THIRTY-EIGHT




The pages of my brand-new life insurance policy unspool from the printer.

I clip them together, then slide them into a manila envelope. I have made sure to select a plan that covers not only my demise from natural causes, but also death and dismemberment from an accident.

I place it on my desk, beside the note I’ve penned to Aunt Charlotte. It is the hardest letter I have ever written. In it I’ve left information about my bank account with my swollen new balance so she can easily access it. She is the sole beneficiary of my life insurance policy as well.

I have three hours left.

I pick up my to-do list and mark off that task. My room is clean, my bed neatly made. All of my belongings are stored in my wardrobe.

Earlier today I also checked off two other items. I telephoned Maggie’s parents. And then I called Jason.

At first he didn’t recognize my name. It took him a few moments to remember. I paced during the pause in which he made the mental connection, wondering if he would acknowledge our past encounters.

Instead, he thanked me profusely for the donations to the animal shelter, then caught me up on his life since college. He told me he’d married the girlfriend he’d met on campus. “She stuck by me,” Jason said, his voice thickening with emotion. “I was so angry at everyone, but mostly at myself for not being there to help my little sister. When I got arrested for drunk driving and went to rehab—well, my girlfriend was my rock. She never gave up on me. We got married the next year.”

Jason’s wife was a middle-school teacher, he said. She’d graduated the same year as me. That was why he went to her ceremony at the Piaget Auditorium and stood in the corner. He was there to support her.

My guilt and anxiety had concocted a lie. It was never even about me.

I couldn’t help but feel sad for the woman who let all that fear shape so many of her life choices.

I am still very afraid, but it is no longer constricting me.

Only a few items remain on my list now.

I open my laptop and clear my browser history, wiping away evidence of my recent investigations. I double-check to make sure my searches into airline tickets and small, non-chain motels are no longer visible to anyone who might access my computer.

Emma does not understand Richard as I do. She cannot grasp what he is truly capable of. It’s impossible to imagine what he becomes in his worst moments.

Richard will simply move on unless I stop him. He’ll be more careful, though. He will find a way to rotate the kaleidoscope and sweep away the current reality, forming a bright, distracting new image.

I lay my outfit on my bed and take a long, hot shower, trying to ease the tightness in my muscles. I wrap myself in my bathrobe and clear the fog from the mirror above the sink.