The Wife Between Us(16)
“I’m . . . speechless.”
“Never thought I’d see that,” Richard joked. “I was going to save it until after the wedding, but the settlement went through early, and I couldn’t wait.”
He handed her the key. “Shall we?”
Nellie walked up the front steps and fit it into the lock. The door glided open and she stepped into a two-story foyer, hearing her footsteps echo against the glossy floor. To her left she could see a wood-paneled study with a gas fireplace. To her right, an oval-shaped room with a deep window seat.
“There’s a lot still to be done. I want you to feel like a part of this, too.” Richard took her hand. “The best part is the back. The great room. Come on.”
He led the way as Nellie followed, trailing her fingertips along the floral wallpaper until she caught herself and yanked them away before she left a smudge.
The room’s name was an understatement. The kitchen, with its sand-colored granite counters and bar featuring a flush cooktop and wine refrigerator, flowed into a dining area capped with a modern cut-glass chandelier. The sunken living room had a recessed ceiling with wood detail, a stone fireplace, and wainscoting on the walls. Richard unlocked the back door and led her to the second-story deck. In the distance, a double hammock swayed under a tree.
Richard was looking at her. “Do you like it?” A crease formed between his eyebrows.
“It’s . . . unbelievable,” she managed. “I’m scared to touch anything!” She gave a little laugh. “It’s so perfect.”
“I know you wanted to live in the suburbs. The city is so loud and stressful.”
Had she told him that? Nellie wondered. She’d complained about the chaos of Manhattan but couldn’t recall saying she wanted to move. Maybe she had, though, when she’d talked about growing up on a residential street; she’d probably mentioned a desire to replicate that environment for their children.
“My Nellie.” He walked over and enveloped her in his arms. “Wait till you see the upstairs.”
He took her hand and led her up the split staircase, then down a hallway past several smaller bedrooms. “I thought we could turn this one into a guest room for Maureen.” He pointed. Then he opened the door to the master suite. They stepped through side-by-side walk-in closets, then into the skylight-filled master bathroom. Beneath a row of windows was a Jacuzzi for two, and the separate shower was enclosed in glass.
One hour ago, she’d been inhaling the smell of the onions her neighbor was frying and stubbing her toe on the case of Diet Coke Samantha had left inside their door. She, who was thrilled when she got a 25 percent tip or discovered a cute pair of Hudson jeans at a secondhand store, had somehow wandered into yet another life.
She looked out the bathroom window. A row of thick green hedges blocked the view of the neighbors’ house. In New York, she could hear through the radiator the couple who lived one floor above arguing about the Giants game. Here, the sound of her own breathing seemed loud.
She shivered.
“Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “Just someone walking over my grave. Creepy expression, right? My father used to say that.”
“It’s so quiet.” Richard took in a slow, deep breath. “So peaceful.” Then he gently turned her toward him. “The alarm company is coming next week.”
“Thank you.” Of course Richard had thought of that detail.
She wrapped her arms around him and felt herself relax against his solid chest.
“Mmmm.” He began to kiss her neck. “You smell so good. Want to test out the Jacuzzi?”
“Oh, babe . . .” Nellie slowly pulled away. She became aware that she was twisting her engagement ring around on her finger. “I love that idea, but I really need to get going. Remember, Sam asked me to take her babysitting job. . . . I’m so sorry.”
Richard nodded and put his hands in his pockets. “I guess I’ll just have to wait, then.”
“It’s amazing. I can’t believe this is going to be our home.”
After a moment, he pulled out his hands and squeezed her close again. His face was tender as he looked down at her. “Don’t worry about tonight. We can celebrate every night for the rest of our lives.”
CHAPTER
SIX
My head throbs. A sour taste coats my mouth. I reach for the water glass on my nightstand, but it is empty.
As if in defiance of my mood, the sun shines brightly through my open blinds, assaulting my eyes. My clock informs me it is nearly nine. I need to call in sick again, making it another day of work—and of commissions—I’ll miss. Yesterday I was so hungover that my raspy voice convinced Lucille I really was ill. I stayed in bed and drank my second bottle of wine, then polished off the half bottle left over from Aunt Charlotte’s salon, and when the visions of Richard entwined with her refused to be blotted from my mind, I took a pill as well.
As I reach for the phone, my stomach heaves and I stumble toward the bathroom instead. I fall to my knees but can’t throw up. My abdomen is so empty it feels concave.
I pull myself up and twist the sink tap, gulping the metallic-tasting water greedily. I splash handfuls on my face and look at my reflection.
My long dark hair is tangled and my eyes are swollen. New hollows have formed beneath my cheekbones, and my collarbone stands out sharply. I brush my teeth, trying to scrub away the taste of old alcohol, and pull on a bathrobe.