The Wife Before

CHAPTER FORTY

I heard a door shut and the laughter of men. Roland was back home and I didn’t know what the fuck I had just read, but an instant fear paralyzed me and my heart was pounding.

A million questions raced through my mind. Did Dylan have something to do with Melanie driving over that cliff? Did he do something to her? Did Roland find out about them? No, Roland couldn’t have known. He wouldn’t have still been so chummy with Dylan if he knew that his closest cousin had kissed his wife.

That moment between Dylan and Melanie was intimate—the way he interrogated her, backed her into that corner. She didn’t say it, but even I could feel her heart racing through the pages. And why was she worried about her sister telling him about this Calvin person? Whoever he was, he sounded horrible and had clearly taken advantage of her.

I heard footsteps and tucked the third journal under the cushion of the sofa to hide it. Then I got off the couch and walked to the door of the relaxation room. Dylan was coming up the stairs, his eyes tired, and a drunken smile on his face.

I broke out in goosebumps as he grinned at me. “’Sup, Samira.”

“Wh-what are you doing up here?”

“Gotta pee,” he said, then chortled. “Roland’s in one of the downstairs bathrooms and Felipe is in the other.”

He waltzed off, and when he rounded the corner, I left the room to go down the stairs. Roland was coming out of the bathroom as I walked down the hallway. He stumbled on his way out and I was sure he was drunk. I so badly wanted to ask him about all that I’d read, but I had to act normal.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

He laughed. “Yeah. Just had too much to drink. Had to call an Uber.”

I helped him toward the stairs and we took them up one by one. Dylan was coming down, smiling wide as he took each step.

“Yo—we have to do this again, bro!”

“We will!” Roland declared. “Real soon, man. Show Felipe out for me. I’m tired as hell. You can crash in one of the rooms if you want.”

“Cool.” Dylan kept going down and when I made it up, I looked over the banister. Dylan looked up at me and said, “G’night, Samira.”

I didn’t say it back. I looked away and pretended not to hear him. I didn’t like how he’d said my name, or the way he looked at me, like he knew something I didn’t.

Then I remembered something Melanie said in her journal. Dylan didn’t drink. So why the hell was he drunk now? Was he pretending to be? Or had something caused him to turn to drinking?

I hurried to the bedroom with my husband hanging halfway off of me, making it to our bed and sitting him down. He flopped flat on his back and closed his eyes with a groan.

“So drunk,” he groaned again.

I watched him, how his chest rose and fell, in sync with his deep breaths. How a smile lingered on his lips, like he’d had the best night of his life.

“Roland?” I called.

“Hmm?”

I sat beside him, looked down at him. “Does Dylan drink often?”

“Not often.”

“Did he drink tonight?”

“Uh-huh.”

“A lot?”

“No. Not much. He doesn’t like to drink like that. Daddy was a drunk. Used to beat him for no reason sometimes. Mine did too. Probably why we grew up to be so close.” Roland burped, then sighed. “His momma used to send him to buy her drugs. I think that’s why my momma kept telling me not to send them money before his mom died. Even now, she tells me to make Dylan work for it because she just doesn’t trust that side of the family.”

I blinked in surprise. Wow. I had no idea. I knew Roland’s mother wasn’t close to her sister, but I didn’t think it ran that deep. And about Dylan—he had to be pretending to be drunk if he didn’t drink much. Why? Why pretend the night I mentioned Melanie? Over dinner he was acting a little off, staring at the walls, avoiding Roland’s eyes.

I scooted closer to Roland. “Babe, I need to ask you something, and please be honest with me.”

“You can ask me anything, Samira.”

I felt bad taking advantage of Roland in his drunken, vulnerable state. But I also didn’t want him to remember me asking any of the questions I had when he was sober again. This felt like the perfect chance to ask him about Melanie.

“Do you know who Melanie had an affair with?”

Roland was quiet for so long I thought he’d fallen asleep. His eyes didn’t move behind his eyelids for a while, but then they popped open several seconds later and a full frown had taken over his face.