Page 81 of The Seven Month Itch
Yeah, that’s right, you bastard. Your wife.
“Will you tell her?” the woman asks.
“I have to, right? I’ve wanted to tell her for months but didn’t know how. This shouldn’t be this hard.” There’s pain in his voice.
What is he talking about?
When I peek again, my heart drops. Terrence’s chin rests on Fake Elena’s head. The two are in a silent embrace before she speaks. “She deserves to know.”
“She does.” His voice comes out in a whisper.
“Come on, we’ll figure it out together.” She looks up at him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
I wait a half hour for a response. Nothing. The lonely ride back to Malibu takes forty-five minutes. I decide not to call Emma. Her desire to chop off his balls will tempt me to find an axe. I have to think beyond instant gratification. I also like his nuts.
There’s a baby on the way.Ourbaby.
The stages of grief hit me in waves throughout the night.
Shock.
Denial.
Pain.
Anger.
Depression.
Why did he do this?
Tomorrow, I’ll go to Emma and book a flight back home to Virginia to decide what to do with my mess of a life. I’ll move to California or somewhere new. The mountains in Montana are beautiful this time of year, or so I hear. Either way, this is over. Terrence will be part of his baby’s life, but we’re done—for good this time.
An answered prayer in the form of sleep comes at two o’clock in the morning. I nestle into the pillow to give my body the rest it needs. This house is empty, just like my marriage.
Chapter 39
Justice
Terrence didn’t come back to the house. It should turn my anger into fury, but how is that possible when I’m too numb to hurt more than I do?
I look at my phone for the fourth time in ten minutes.
No missed calls or texts.
My throat burns at the thought of last night. The Terrence from yesterday is not the man I married. Or maybe it is, and I missed the warning signs. He does travel a lot. Was I dumb to expect him to be faithful?
I huff into my pillow. Monogamy is a choice. Marriage is hard, but it doesn’t take an act of God for someone to commit to one person. Hell, the superhero who lives in this house is faithful to his wife. He has millions in the bank, his own action figures, and ladies lined up for their chance at the man with iron.
The woman with Terrence looked familiar. Is she the same one from the video call weeks ago? Did he meet her when we separated and never broke it off?
My stomach lurches, a countdown to my morning appointment with the toilet. The exit from the king-size bed into the en suite bathroom is made with the grace of a baby giraffe on a tightrope. The motion sensor light illuminates white walls and gray slate tiles. Alpacas roam a fenced enclosure from the steel-framed window over the freestanding tub.
This place is mag—
Hold that thought.
