Page 35 of The Perfect Marriage

I hold my hand up. “I’m going to stop you right there, Eleanor…” I would love to reach across the table and claw her Botox face off.

“Now, I know you had a rough upbringing with your dad’s passing and your mom’s drug addiction—but that’s not something you get to hold on to forever….” She pauses when the waitress arrives. “We’ll have two Manhattans.” She closes the drinks menu and hands it to the waitress.

I have half the nerve to storm out of here, but I know that won’t do Adam any good.

“Actually, I’ll have Tito’s double vodka soda with a lime,” I correct. The waitress nods. I give a small grin.

“Bring them both anyway. I’m going to need two,” she says to the waitress. “Now, what was I saying?”

My hands are beneath the table clenched so tightly, my nails are digging into my palms. The moisture and warmth tell me I’ve punctured the skin.

“Oh, yes… I’ve lost people too. My husband died, but you don’t see that stopping me from living my life.” Eleanor nods as she speaks as if she’s giving me some sort of motivational speech, but the only thing she’s motivating me to do is to flip this table into her and walk out the door.

I relax my hands, looking down at them for a moment. There are small bloody puncture wounds on each palm. I clutch my napkin and take a deep breath.I can get through this. I’ve endured worse. The waitress sets down my vodka soda and two Manhattans. I take mine and drink nearly the entire thing. Eleanor is still talking about how I should live my life and how Adam is not at fault.

“…and addiction clearly runs in your family, Sarah. You might just be addicted to your work. I’m just trying to help and I want to make sure Adam is getting the best defense possible.” She takes a slow sip of her Manhattan, while holding eye contact with me.

“He has the best defense possible and it bodes well for Adam that his wife of ten years is not only standing behind him but is also defending him in the matter.”

“It’s the least you can do, Sarah. Now, are you sure you’re equipped to handle this?” She attempts to raise an eyebrow, but her Botox infested face isn’t able to comply.

“I’m positive.”

“Well, I suppose your work addiction will provide a benefit for once.” Eleanor smirks.

My eyes nearly roll out of their sockets. “I suppose it will.”

“Ugh. I really wish you would have paid more attention to my son and upheld your wifely duties. Adam wouldn’t be in this predicament otherwise. Such a shame.” She shakes her head as she speaks.

She’ll keep going on all evening unless I tell her what she wants to hear. I take a deep breath.

“You’re right, Eleanor. I should have been a better wife to Adam. But I promise you this, I will be better now, and I’ll make sure Adam gets the justice he deserves,” I say with a stern nod.

The waitress sets down the first course.

Eleanor smiles back at me. “I knew you’d see it my way. Now, let’s enjoy our meal.”

24

Adam Morgan

Once again, I find myself lying in a metal bunk with a mattress I swear is as thick as a piece of cardboard. I’ve spent sixty of the last seventy-two hours lying in this bed thinking about how I got here. I’m still not sure how I went from having an affair to being the primary suspect for the murder of my mistress. How did I end up here?

Sarah feels nothing for me anymore, I know this, and I can’t say that I blame her. Even if by some miracle she is able to get me off, we’ll never have what we had before—if we had anything at all. I’m not so sure anymore. Was I just convenient, a warm body to come home to? No, I’m sure there was love before, but I look at her now… and I think I’ve hurt her to the point where there’s no going back. She does still have feelings for me, but those feelings are overpowered by feelings of hatred, anger, sadness, regret. Will I survive this? I don’t know. Will we survive this? Probably not.

Our meeting yesterday didn’t end well, thanks in part to my mother’s comments. After Sarah told me they were officially charging me, she and Mom left for dinner. I can’t imagine that meal went well.

A guard smacks his baton against the bars of my cell. “You’ve got a visitor.”

I stand up and drag my feet across the floor. I really don’t care to speak to anyone, but visitors and time in the rec room are the only things that break up the hours while I’m here. I follow the officer until we’re standing in front of the interrogation room. He opens the door, and there’s a man with a blond buzz cut sitting in the chair. His back is to me.New lawyer, I think. Perhaps Sarah finally decided enough was enough, and my mom hired a new attorney. I pass him and when I sit down to take my seat across from him, it’s then that I find out who he is. Scott Summers. I try to stand back up to leave.

“Relax, I’m just here to talk.” He puts his hands up trying to show that he is not a threat to me. His voice is deep and husky. It’s the first time that I’ve heard him speak. Last time we met, his fists did all the talking. I look back to the guard and then back at the chair deciding.

“It’s up to you, Adam. I’m not going to force you to sit here,” the guard says. We all exchange looks and then I decide to take a seat. If anything, maybe Scott will slip up, and I’ll uncover something that’ll help my case. What do I have to lose? My life? At this point, I wouldn’t consider it much of a loss anyway.

“Thanks,” Scott says.

“No funny business, Scott. I’m breaking a few rules by having you here, so don’t screw me over. I’ll be on the other side of this door. You’ve got twenty minutes.” The guard steps out and closes the door behind him.

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