Page 7 of The Wife Stalker

“You don’t have to apologize. I’ve got everything covered. The kids and I will be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. How are you feeling about the case at this point?”

He sighed. “Well, the deposition from the psychologist at the Phoenix Recovery Center will help to show Fred’s commitment tosobriety. I’m rallying the troops tomorrow to give out marching orders. There’s just so much still to do.”

“You always get it done.”

He nodded. “I suppose so.” He leaned farther forward in the beach chair, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. Without looking at me, he said, “I’m thinking maybe we should cancel the Memorial Day party.”

“What? No, you can’t,” I objected. It was a tradition he’d started years ago, before we’d even met. The party would be a time for him to reconnect with friends and colleagues. Calling it off felt like a step backward in his recovery.

“I’m not in much of a festive mood, and I’ve got so much on my plate with this case.”

“But everyone loves the party,” I said gently. “And besides, you’ll enjoy it once it’s here. You shouldn’t make a rash decision that you’ll regret later.”

He was quiet. After a moment he sat back, and when he looked at me, I saw resignation in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right. But you’ve got a lot onyourplate. Especially since Rebecca’s not here.” The children’s nanny had left to care for her father in Michigan after he had had a fall and wouldn’t be returning for another couple of weeks.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” I assured him. He smiled and nodded.

I knew he would be glad once the day came. He’d be surrounded by people who cared about him—clients, colleagues, and friends, all of whom looked forward to it and most of whom had already RSVP’d. I’d given the caterer the final count this morning. It was the same menu every year—barbecued beef and all the fixings. And yesterday I’d placed an order with the florist for the table centerpieces. This year, they would be red dahlias, white lilies,and blue irises in round white vases. There were still a few tasks left to do—I still needed to get in touch with the face painter and magician the kids and their friends had loved last year—but I knew I’d be able to pull it all off.

I looked over at Leo, who had a faint smile on his face as he watched Evie and Stelli splashing around. We were going to come out of this on the other side. I just knew it.

7

Piper

Piper lay in bed, eyes open, wide awake. She turned to look at the clock on the bedside table—two a.m. This had been happening to her every night recently—actually, ever since she’d met Leo.

Moving to Westport had been the right decision. At first, she’d been skittish, looking over her shoulder, afraid she’d be found. But after a few months, she’d fallen into a comfortable routine of working at Phoenix all day, then coming home to a quiet house to cook, read, and center herself until the next day. She had promised herself that she would take a year to be alone; that, no matter what, no matter how perfect a man seemed, this time she’d resist.

As soon as she’d met Leo, she’d known it was a promise she wouldn’t keep. But the thought of getting involved with a new man brought up memories of the last one, and thinking of Matthew brought back her nightmares. Dark dreams in which Matthew’s ex-wife chased her, yellingMurderer, murderer!

Throwing back the covers, Piper rose from the bed. There was no way she could go back to sleep now. She made herself some chamomile tea and grabbed her laptop from the counter, though she knew that screen time in the middle of the night was bad for her circadian rhythms. Sinking into the plush sofa cushions, she opened the computer and waited, fingers poised on the keys, for inspiration to strike. She needed to channel her energy into something positive, like a new blog post. Maybe she’d write about starting over.

She’d tried to do just that when she left California after all that blame and finger-pointing. Her mental images of that time still ate at her insides, and she felt a flash of anger burn through her as she looked at the diamond-and-sapphire ring on her right ring finger and remembered how Ava, Matthew’s first wife, had actually accused her of stealing it. But Matthew had given her his mother’s ring when he proposed, with the understanding that it would one day go to his daughter, Mia, on her own wedding day. But of course, that wasn’t going to happen now.

She shook her head as if to sweep the memories away. She didn’t want to let Ava steal one more minute of her peace. Suddenly, she had a different idea for the blog post and found her fingers flying across the keyboard.

How to Deal with the Haters

You know who they are—those people who seem intent on nothing but stealing the happiness from others. They’re the ones who see a negative motive in everything you do. Those folks who blame you for everything from the weather to the sinking of theTitanic. They’re haters. They have nothing good to say to you or about you. These are toxic people who need to be cut from your life without a backward glance. Maybe it’s your mother or your father. A sister or a brother. It doesn’t matter. If they’re not having a positive influence on your life, they don’t belong in it. Find a new sister, a new brother. Blood is not destiny. True connection arises out of mutual respect and benefit. Take a good look around you, identify them, and eliminate these blood-sucking parasites now. Before they ruin your life.

She stopped, her breath coming in short gasps. She couldn’t post this. The center’s blog—really, its whole image—was all about positivity. But it had made her feel better to put the words onthe page. She highlighted the whole paragraph and hit Delete. Thinking of her audience, she began a new post.

Moving On After Loss

Life isn’t fair—how many times have you said that to yourself and to others? That simple statement, though true, doesn’t begin to plumb the depths of sadness and despair you often experience when something truly terrible happens. After a tragedy, the days are dark, filled with whys and what-ifs: What if you hadn’t argued? What if you had pulled up to that intersection five minutes earlier? Why do you feel so guilty? Whymyhusband? Why now?

There are the days when you feel fragile, as if you were made of glass and could shatter at any moment. And finally, when you think you will never smile with pure happiness again, acceptance comes. You will recognize its arrival by the awakening of emotions that you’ve held at bay for so long. Suddenly, you will find yourself hoping to meet someone with whom to share the rest of your life. And if you’re lucky enough to find that person, I say to you, pursue it with all your might. Don’t be afraid. Don’t let obstacles deter you. If it’s worth having, it’s worth fighting for. Life is short. Don’t let the past keep you from reaching out to grab the future. Believe that it is possible to love with your whole heart again, and to be loved in return. No matter the cost. Peace and Blessings.

That was better. Piper shut down the computer, put her hands behind her neck, and stretched. She’d post it tomorrow. All the blog posts were signed simply with “Phoenix” rather than her name. Let readers make of it what they would.

It was already four o’clock, only an hour before her alarm was set to go off. Even if she managed to fall asleep for the next hour, she knew she’d get up feeling worse. The meeting for Save the Sound wasn’t for two more weeks, and she hated that she had to wait that long to see Leo again. They’d exchanged mobile numbers, so maybe she’d send him a flirty little text in the meantime. She pulled her phone out and swiped to his contact. Thinking a moment, her fingers began to type:Guess what I just picked up at the bookstore. The Count of Monte Cristo. Maybe we can have a little book club meeting when I’m finished. xo.She hit Send and then allowed herself a moment to relive their lunch together, feeling warm inside. Suddenly, images of Matthew and his daughter flashed through her head again.

“Go away!” she shouted.

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