The Wanted Short Stories (Wanted 5.5)

My mother stood and stretched. “Are you okay now, darling? I should head back home before it gets too late. I’d better text Philip.”

I got up and followed my mother to the kitchen. She grabbed her purse, pulled out her phone, and sent Philip, my stepfather, a text.

We walked out to her car, and I leaned in the window to kiss her

cheek. “Thanks, Mom, for coming over and helping me. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. I just don’t feel right.”

She smiled and nodded her head. “Ellie, you’re going through a hard time right now. I think you need to get out. Maybe you and Gunner should go away for a few days. You know Phil and I will watch the kids.”

I smiled. “Mom, that would be so amazing. I’d love to get away for a couple of days.”

“Plan a trip. We’ll make it happen.”

I kissed her one more time before saying good-bye. I watched the red taillights fade away as she drove down the driveway. I walked back into the house and picked up the home phone. I dialed Gunner’s phone number. I pulled out my cell and looked at it to see if he sent a text.

“Hello?”

I was stunned at how loud the background noise was. “Gunner? Where are you? Are you still with the client and Bill?”

“Hey, sweetheart. Yeah, I am. I was just getting ready to leave. Bill, Karen, and I were about to walk out of the bar.”

I didn’t know what to be more shocked by—the fact that he was at a bar or that his client’s name was Karen. I’d never even thought to ask for the name. It turned out the client I’d assumed was a he was really a she.

Karen?

“Did y’all eat at a bar?”

“What? I can’t hear you. It’s loud. Let me walk outside. Hold on.”

I slowly started counting to ten.

One. Two. Three.

I’m so going to kill him.

Four. Five. Six.

Karen. Love how he failed to mention the client he’s been meeting for lunches and dinners is a damn woman.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

“Ells, can you hear me now?”

“Yep. I asked, did you eat at the bar?”

He let out a chuckle. “Nah. Bill wanted to bring Karen to the brewery, so we walked over. I’m on my way.”

“Well, I’m on my way to bed.”

Silence.

“Ellie, are you upset?”

Stupid men. “Am I upset? Am I upset that you called me hours ago and said you would be late but not too late? Am I upset that you missed baseball and soccer practice—again? Am I upset that I had to shave our son’s hair because your daughter decided to dye it with a color Luke had concocted, and then she cut chunks out of it? Am I upset that I had to sit with Colt while he cried for two hours before I put the kids to bed? Am I upset that I had to call my mother because I felt like I was having a nervous breakdown? And guess what? That’s because my fucking husband is never home! Ever! He’s out having lunch and dinner with Karen.”

“I’m going to go ahead and say you’re upset.”

I pulled the phone away and took a deep breath. “I’m going to bed. Be careful driving.”