Page 41 of Happy Wife

Will threw his arms up in the air. “I can’t have this fight anymore. You need to leave before I call the police.”

“The police!” Constance was incensed. She leveled a glare at me. “You’re just a placeholder, dear. A warm body for when he gets plus-one invites to business events. He only cares about himself and his work. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but time moves faster than you think for women like us.”

My cheeks were hot.

“Get out now!” Will huffed.

She turned on her heel, and he followed her to the door. But she didn’t miss the chance to get in one more swipe. “You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You’ll blink and ten years will disappear, and he’ll still be working.”

I recognized the ire in her expression. It was the look my mother had in her eyes every time a man walked out of our house for the last time. Before I could collect myself enough to either run or seriously contemplate therapy to unpack my innate desire not to run, a selfish sort of comfort coiled around my waist.

Will wanted me. He was choosing me.

Once Constance was out the door, Will returned to me in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry.” He buried his head deep in my neck.

Mia came around the corner with a pizza on a stone, completely unfazed by her mother’s performance, and somehow the evening resumed. It felt like a trial by fire. I was proud to have made the cut, but after Constance’s outburst, I was left wondering what exactly I had earned my way into.

Chapter19

Four days after

I’ve given up sleeping. Who needs it?

Lately, I just lie here, my mind running until the sun rises and someone comes to pull me out of bed.

Today is different, though. I don’t lie awake, waiting for something to happen, and rather than fight the insomnia for some rest, I make myself go for a run. My adrenaline is somewhere between maxed out and numb, and the endorphins might help me recalibrate.

I hardly make it past the driveway, though, before my legs feel heavy. I turn up my AirPods, blasting the most cheerful pop music I can find, but I can still hear my own breathing, my feet pounding the pavement, my throat swallowing sticky saliva. Every step is brutal, but once I’m going, I don’t let myself stop.

An hour and a half later, I’m nearly home when I see Carol Parker climbing into her car in her all-Lululemon ensemble with a Stanley cup full of some green-dirt concoction of superfood. I hide behind a hedge so I won’t have to talk to her. I like Carol fine, but I don’t have the energy for some stilted small talk about Will this morning. Or worse, the beloved fucking fence. I hear her car door close, and I scoot across her driveway, hoping she doesn’t see me.

As I check behind me to be certain I’ve escaped Carol, I barely manage to skirt the gray sedan coming toward me, headlights on. The driver must not see me either, because in the instant I clock the car, it swerves to avoid hitting me and then speeds up to go around me.

What the hell? Are they trying to kill me?

I look around wondering if anyone else saw what just happened but only hear Carol’s car coming down the road. Not wanting to wait around to give the gray car a second swipe at me, I take off running to clear the hedge line and make it back to my property alive. Turning up the driveway, I can see through the front door window that the big TV in my living room is on. My heart skips a beat.

Is Will finally home?

I charge through the front door, my heart pounding, my thoughts racing. I rush through the foyer, only to find Este on my couch, watching the morning news.

“Where have you been?” She looks up.

“Running, why?”

Este rewinds the news, and my stomach drops when I see a reporter standing outside of the precinct talking to the news crew back in the station. I hear Will’s name and then the TV screen is filled with an image of Will’s shirt.Theshirt. The one Ardell showed me behind a closed door. The one they found. The photo looks like it was ripped from an evidence file.

I feel the air leave my body. Este must’ve heard my gasp because she yells at me to sit down before I pass out.

But I’m too busy pacing. “How the hell does the news have the shirt? Isn’t that supposed to be, like, privileged information?”

“I have no idea. I would’ve thought the same thing.”

Did Constance do this?

On the TV, I see Ardell come out of the precinct and walk toward the reporter. The look on his face tells me that he’s surprised they have the shirt, too. In fact, he looks like he’s ready to pounce. The reporter quickly wraps up his on-the-ground coverage and throws it back to the studio. The news desk picks up right before they accidentally air a confrontation between Ardell and the reporter.

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