“Oh. Well, I wanted to call to let you know I won’t be home tonight.”
Like that’s something new. He’s only ever let me know he wouldn’t be home a handful of times—he usually just doesn’t show. But I know what this is. His guy told him I left the house and they wanted to find out why. I guess that answers the question of whether or not Paul knows.
“I’ll be home tomorrow, but not until dinner time,” he tells me.
“Okay,” I drawl.
“Maybe you could run to the grocery store tomorrow,” he says. “There’s no food in the house, and if you felt like making dinner tomorrow, that would be pretty great. Maybe you could make your ziti.”
I weigh the idea, rocking my head side to side. “Maybe.” I do enjoy a good ziti.
“Cool, thanks.”
“I don’t have any money.” There’s like $3 in my purse.
“I left a twenty in the bill envelope in case you needed it.”
That’s surprisingly thoughtful, but I don’t say so. “All right.”
He stays on the phone for a bit longer, but neither of us has anything to say. I want to look around for the guy, but I can’t very well turn around and start looking or they’ll know I suspect something.
Finally I say, “So, I’m gonna go.”
He doesn’t argue but I can tell by the way he drags out his goodbye he’d like to stay on the phone.
When I hang up, anger spikes through my stomach. Motherfucker. That stupid asshole is having me followed. Of all the hypocritical bullshit he could pull….
I’ve lost count of all the mistresses he’s had over the years—because I’ve been relieved rather than resentful, like an actual wife—but the first time he thinks I’m into another guy, I have the goddamn mafia literally watching my house for him to come.
Stupid misogynistic asswipes.
I wonder if Liam has driven by to check on me.
I walk for a long time because it’s the first taste of freedom I’ve had lately, but eventually I have to go home. I glance in the windows of the cars parked on the side of the road as I make my way back, but there’s nobody in any of them.
The following day, as expected, I wake up alone.
Since Paul put the idea of ziti in my mind, and since I have an appetite, I decide to go to the store to get the ingredients I need to throw it together. It’s another nice, cold day, so it’ll be a good day to have the oven on. Maybe I’ll curl up on the couch with a book and a blanket while it cooks.
The day turns out even cooler than I expected, and by the time I get to the grocery store there’s a lovely, light snowfall catching on my hair and coat. It boosts my mood and I’m feeling pretty good as I peruse the aisles.
“Annabelle?”
I’m just about to reach for a pair of bananas. I pause and turn toward the female voice that doesn’t ring any bells, and I’m surprised to see my old friend Bethany. In high school we were good friends, but after I ‘married’ Paul and she went off to college, we lost touch.
“Bethany, hi.”
She does that thing where she grabs my shoulders and looks me over, all bright-eyed and normal. I don’t love being touched, but I don’t say anything.
“Wow, you look great!” She sounds surprised, but maybe I’m just not used to the decibel of her voice anymore. God, she’s perky.
Much more subdued, I offer a smile. “Thanks, so do you.”
“Wow, it’s been—God, I don’t even—has it been ten years? We can’t be that old!”
I smile and my gaze drops to her shopping cart. Empty, except for her purse.
She’s touching me again, tapping me on the arm, and my gaze moves back to her face. “Hey, I have a wild idea.”