Page 14 of The Affair
After I locked up, I taped the sign up on the door and turned, nearly running into the petite blonde who was walking toward me.
“Oh, hey, Elle!”
Standing there was Candace Drake. I couldn’t help but mentally groan. It wasn’t that I disliked Candace. I actually considered her a bit of a friend. But this early? With no coffee?
Candace was a former cheerleader and lived every day like she was still in a high pony, flashing those pom-poms for the crowd. And that never-ending well of energy was natural—no caffeine needed for this one.
“Hey, Candace!” I said, trying to muster all the pep I could this early in the morning.
“I’m so glad I caught you!” She beamed, her megawatt smile nearly blinding me. “I wanted to see if I could stop by later and drop off some new items I did for fall.”
Feeling grateful she wasn’t here to gab or gossip, I nodded my head. “Sure, that’d be great. We’re mostly sold out of the things you brought over last week. Those mugs were a big hit!”
Her eyes lit up, and she furiously clapped her hands together. “That’s fantastic! Okay, I’ll see you later! Oh, and good luck finding someone!” she said, pointing to my sign.
I waved good-bye, thanking her, and quickly checked my watch. That little chat with Candace cost me some of my precious coffee time, and now, I was tasked with a dilemma—walk all the way down to the corner market to get coffee pods and risk opening late or go to the café, which was closer but also right next to my ex’s house.
The place I avoided like the plague.
I looked down the street toward the market, biting my lip at the idea of opening late. I knew the chances of someone showing up at nine in the morning were slim, but I also knew if I opened late, my intestines could very well burst right through my abdomen from the sheer anxiety coursing through my body.
I hated being late to anything. It went along with the whole anal-retentive personality I had going. So, clearly, the café would be the winner today. With any luck, I could just sprint down the street—I was in a hurry after all—and completely ignore the house that shall not be named.
Like it didn’t even exist.
It had been ages since my feet graced the concrete of this street.
A year ago, I used to walk this familiar path several times a day. I could count the steps between our front door and the antique store and the café. It was the perfect little house, right in the middle of town.
My parents’ house, on the other hand, was on the outskirts, and in order to get anywhere, you had to drive. I hated that, especially as a kid. When you were little, you wanted instant gratification, and being even ten minutes from friends and fun was too much. I hadn’t lost that feeling when I got older, so being able to walk to the market for a head of lettuce or walk hand in hand with my husband to the café for an impromptu brunch, that was my idea of bliss.
Or at least, it had been.
Now, the little white house was a stark reminder of everything I’d had. And lost.
My heart began to race when I got within eyesight of it. I saw the mailbox first—the royal blue I’d chosen that first year of marriage. I’d agonized for days over the perfect shade. Reed had laughed, not understanding the difference between any of them.
My stomach turned as I thought of it now.
Look straight ahead, Elle.
Don’t think about the mailbox.
Or the young, blonde woman walking out of the house …wait, what?
My feet faltered, and I nearly tripped.
There was a woman in my house.
It’s not your house anymore, I reminded myself.
I tried not to look, but I couldn’t help but notice how familiar she seemed with it all. The way she stepped off the threshold and locked the door with ease, tucking the set of keys into her purse without thought. She waved to Mr. Flannigan next door, who was watering his award-winning roses. I watched in horror as he smiled and gave a friendly wave back.
My throat burned, and my eyes stung.
I thought back to that moment at the funeral when Reed’s lips parted, and those unspoken words sat frozen in time.
I’d always assumed he was waiting for the perfect time to sayI’m sorryorI’ll never stop loving you, but in reality, perhaps he was just trying to muster the courage to tell me the truth.
