A Million Different Ways to Lose You (Horn Duet 2)

“Hello to you, too,” I greeted, pushing my smile back down when I realized she wasn’t in a mood to appreciate my sarcasm.

“Don’t give me that, Mrs. Horn. Or have you forgotten you’re married.” Her tone sharp, her voice angry––Shay’s version of tough love.

Turning my attention to the girl at the front desk, I said, “Agnes, I’m taking my break,” and walked past Shay. She was hot on my heels as I made my way down the hall. “No, I haven’t. Though I’m not certain if he has.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ask your friend. Better yet, ask Caroline Pruitt next time you see her, which should be often.”

“V––” Shay grabbed my shoulders and spun me to face her. “What are you talking about? Caroline Pruitt? I haven’t seen Sebastian in a week.”

Her words sliced my heart into ribbons. My breathing turned shallow. Had he spent the week in her bed? Like she had told the shop girl at La Perla? The nausea hit me instantly. Any moment, I was going to vomit.

“He hasn’t been to work. He won’t answer any of my text or phone calls.” She marked off the list with her long, tapered fingers. “I’m doing the best I can, keeping business on track, but I can’t do this without him for much longer.”

My marriage was over…I couldn’t believe it. Breathing deeply, I steeled myself against the onslaught of pain. “I can’t…I can’t talk about this…I need to be alone.” Aimlessly, I started walking away from her.

“The hell you do. You need to go stop your husband from killing himself,” she shouted after me. Her words stopped me cold. My head whipped around.

“What did you say?”

“He’s holed himself up in that apartment and he’s drinking himself to death.” There was an unmistakable note of alarm in her voice. For as long I’d known her I’d never seen Shay scared, rattled. “And God knows what else. He won’t speak to any of us. Marianne tried yesterday––fat good that did.” At my rapt expression, she continued her rant. “Fuck’s sake, I thought he was stubborn, but your pride is megalithic.”

Whatever she said next was drowned out by the loud ringing in my ears. Panic, that he was hurting himself, spurned me into action. I pivoted on my heels and began hustling down the hall, back to the check-in desk. “Agnes, tell Yannick I had a family emergency.” The sweet faced girl gave me a short nod.

“Where are you going?” shouted the bossy redhead.

“To talk to my husband,” I shouted back over my shoulder.

“’Bout fucking time,” I barely heard her say, her words fading away quickly. Because I was already out the door, not willing to waste another precious minute.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In a mad rush to get to him, I was completely oblivious to my surroundings. My senses clouded by heavy thoughts. That’s why I didn’t notice the woman that stepped into the elevator right behind me. You would think I would’ve learned my lesson on elevators by now.

It was her overly sweet perfume that pulled at my attention. I looked up into deep, blue eyes and recognized her immediately. Sebastian’s neighbor, Lucinda––everything about her screamed trophy wife from a mountaintop. Her face was completely frozen. I’m surprised she retained the ability to blink with all the Botox in her face.

This was the person who had set in motion the chain of events that contributed to Sebastian’s car crash. That killed a woman and a child. She didn’t own all the blame, of course not. However, had she not instigated the fight with what I suspected was a well-placed and well-timed lie, the course of all our lives might’ve been different. She greeted me with a disingenuous smile before she turned to face ahead.

“He’s not home.”

I wasn’t about to let this predator insinuate herself in my business. “You would be that last person to know the whereabouts of my husband.”

She turned to me then, a smug smile on her overly filled lips. “I know I haven’t seen you in at least a month, which means this marriage is over.”

“It’s funny you should say that because although you may not have seen me, I definitely saw you.” Armed for battle, I turned to look her squarely in the eyes. “At Fix––about a month ago. Does your husband know you have a taste for boys?”

A crimson stain surged up her neck and covered her face. The elevator door chimed and opened on her floor. She placed her foot in the doorway and forced it to remain open. Her blue glare was electric. “He’d never believe it.”

“Not my word, no––you’re right about that. But I have friends in low places, which means I have access to all sorts of…information.” I let that hang between us. There was no way she could know I was totally bluffing. Six months ago I wouldn’t have dreamed of threatening a fly, and now I was ready to wage war with just about anyone to protect the one I loved. “So from this day forth, you will mind your own business, and not bother my husband anymore with your lies. He told me what you said about a man coming out of the apartment when he was married to India.”