There was no other way. We had to leave if we ever wanted to have a chance to be happy together, and now we did it. We did it, and we’re free.
“I’m sorry your friend couldn’t see this,” he said. “I’m sure he would’ve been happy.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right. He would’ve wanted me to get out.”
“You know something? I’ve never been out of Philly before.”
I snorted. “Really?”
“Seriously. Never had a reason to. That was my whole damn world.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Here I am.” He leaned toward me. “So where do you want to be?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“How’s California sound? Or maybe Seattle?”
“Seattle,” I said, not sure why. “Let’s go to Seattle.”
“Sounds good to me.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I’ve got money, you know. Got a few hundred thousand in the bank. I’ll take it out over the next few weeks, never stay in one spot for long. I figured we’ll drive around for the next month, slowly make our way out west. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like fun. Can we see the Grand Canyon?”
“Cora, darling, we can see whatever the fuck you want.”
I laughed, ate my cheesecake, drank my diet Coke, and let myself hope—for the first time in my entire life—that things might be better for me, that I might let myself be happy.
When we finished, he paid the bill and led me back to the car. We got inside and started driving, and I fell asleep with my head against the window, a smile on my lips.27CoraTwo Years LaterI stood at the front window tapping nervously against my thigh. The house was quiet and dark and always felt so empty when Reid was working—which was more and more these days. Not that I minded, it kept him out of trouble and brought in a lot of money, but sometimes I felt lonely.
That lonely feeling wouldn’t last long. I chewed on my lip and felt a thrill when I saw the headlights of his limo round the corner and park in the driveway. Ever since we landed in Seattle, he’d thrown himself into business driving clients around, starting out with a tiny fleet of one single car, and building it up to where it was today: ten cars, ten drivers, including his own. They were doing fantastic business and he seemed to love it, though it kept him out at odd hours sometimes.
He slammed the door shut and came up the front porch steps. They creaked under his weight the way they always did, and I’d begun to associate that sound with joy—pure, unbridled joy at having him come home. I stood in the living room, nervously shifting from foot to foot, as he came inside and stomped his boots to get the rain off then sat on the front step and peeled them off.
“Hey, you,” I said.
He looked up and smiled a little. “Startled me. Didn’t expect you to still be up.”
“It’s only midnight.”
“Sure, but you’ve been tired lately.” He stood and stretched. “How’s my wife?”
“I’m good.” I drifted to him and kissed his neck then his lips. “Better now.”
“I bet.” He smirked and kissed me longer, deeper, and even after a couple of years, the thrill hadn’t passed, not even a little bit.
“Was it hard tonight?” I asked, and I knew I was avoiding having the conversation I needed to have—because I wasn’t sure how he’d react.
“Ah, you know, not bad.” I followed him into the kitchen—granite countertops, big farmhouse sink, everything renovated in the last year as the money started to roll in. “An old couple needed a ride home from the airport. The guy liked to talk, but, you know, it’s part of the job.”
“How are the others doing?”
“James is out all night, I think Barb has a ride in an hour or two. Quiet otherwise.”
“That’s good.”
He took a beer from the refrigerator, popped the top off, and took a long drink. When he finished, he looked at me, head tilted to one side. He wore his work uniform: dark slacks, light button-down shirt, and it was strange, seeing him now compared to the man I used to know. He didn’t look any different, but there were subtle changes—no lump where he carried a gun, though he kept one in the glove box, no anger in his eyes, no tension in his shoulders. I sometimes wondered if that mafia bastard I married back in Philly ever really existed.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, frowning at me.
“Yeah, of course.” I stalked past him to the sink and took a deep breath. “I’m totally, totally fine.”
“Right, it’s just that you haven’t been up to welcome me home from a late-night drive in a while. So I’m sort of wondering what the deal is.”
“Come on, can’t a wife welcome her husband home?”
He laughed and walked over, kissing my neck. “You can come upstairs and give me all the welcome I can handle.”