Page 28 of Happy Wife

By the time we’re about five minutes from home, I still haven’t spoken more than three words. All I managed in the parking lot was “I saw Constance.”

But with a little distance and some ice on my forehead, I see it so much more clearly. Constance doesn’t think I’m some mythical monster. She thinks I’m the kind of monster who disappeared Will. And she’s positioning herself to be the hero who does everything right until Will comes home.

Will needs to come home. Now.

As we pull into Este’s driveway and I get out of the car, I think I see that gray sedan rolling by.

“Hey, I’ve seen that car before.” I’m trying to sound calm and collected, but it’s freaking me out.

Este is slow to turn, and by the time she does, the car is gone. “What car?”

I don’t want to come off as paranoid, so I just try to brush it off. “Never mind.”

“Let’s go order sushi.”

Este walks in her house, but I’m slower to catch up as I try to squash the anxiety rising inside of me.

Chapter14

Before

The gossip about Will and me dating was the subtle, whispering kind at first. When I would walk by the moms at the club, I could hear them say “that one” under their breaths. Or as soon as I approached, voices fell silent as if they had just been talking about me. But what started as soft sidebar talk only grew as Will and I started seeing each other regularly. When we met for coffee at the Farmers’ Market one Saturday morning, curious eyes followed us. When he took me to a play at the Annie Russell Theatre, I could see people craning their necks to get a better view—not of the stage, but of us.

The stares weren’t necessarily unkind, but they were loaded with questions. Or maybe just one question: What was someone like Will doing with someone like me? He was one of the city’s most successful names, and definitely their most eligible bachelor. They all glowered at me like I had stolen their prom king.

“You’re making a scene,” I said to Will in a hushed voice one night while we were grabbing a late-night glass of wine on Park Avenue. We were facing each other, sitting on two barstools, and I had my knees tucked in between his. Despite my teasing, we weren’t doing anything to draw attention. About half the bar was watching us anyway.

“Me?” He put his hands on the outsides of my legs. I was wearing jeans, and the feeling of his hands running over the fabric gave me goosebumps. He leaned in and nipped at my ear while one hand slid subtly up my thigh as he whispered, “Have you seen you?”

His warm breath sent a shiver down my spine. And his hand sent heat pulsing elsewhere.

We had been dating for about a month, and we had fallen into a little rhythm. Dinners Friday or Saturday night, Sunday coffees or a walk around Park Avenue. On weekdays, he was tied up with work, but he would text or send flowers just to say he was thinking of me. Every time he called, I got this dreamy feeling.

It was all so heady and new. But I kept his contact name as Hot Mean Lawyer in my phone as a reminder not to get too far ahead of myself. We were just having a good time.

Still, it was weird having our good time scrutinized under the unforgiving microscope of small-town gossip. Especially when, everywhere we went, people seemed to know Will. Mia’s old teachers, his old clients, the judge that swore him in when he was admitted to the Florida Bar—we couldn’t go anywhere without someone stopping by to say hello, reminiscing about some story from a hundred years ago, or asking about Mia and Constance. And with Will being Will—polite, kind, decent Will—every stop-and-chat conversation would inevitably trigger him to introduceme.

“This is my friend Nora,” he had said to Mia’s piano teacher one morning in Winter Park’s mini–Central Park.

“She’s awfully young to be a friend,” the little old lady had mumbled as she walked away.

Will just laughed, but I knew that every introduction could become fodder for more gossip. And on this particular night at the wine bar, we had already been approached by Will’s dentist for a “quick hello,” which included a twenty-minute story about the dentist’s new Grady-White.

“I don’t think I’m the problem here,” I teased, taking a sip of my wine. “Before I started going out with you, I was essentially invisible.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I’m just saying if the legal work dries up, you could run for mayor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a chuckle. But he didn’t seem fazed.

“Don’t you ever worry what all of these people say to your ex-wife about this?”

“Constance knows about you.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“After I bumped into the Lawtons on our first date, I thought it would be best to give her a heads-up that I was seeing someone. I wanted her to hear it from me.”

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