My temper has been quicker, my reactions out of proportion.
The other night, I had no plan to fuck Delaney Pierson. I’ve been on edge for a while—a bad reaction to some preservative, mercury in retrograde, I don’t know—and it had grown unbearable that day. I didn’t want to go to the function. I didn’t want to make polite conversation with people trying to shove their hands in my pockets. For once, I didn’t want to go home, either.
Delaney hung around me all night, going drink for drink, getting louder and friendlier. When Cora phoned, I answered at the bar. I didn’t step out to take the call.
I stayed too late, polished off a bottle of mediocre whiskey, and when Delaney suggested we go back to Maddox Tower for a nightcap, I agreed.
I knew what she wanted. She wasn’t subtle.
When we got to the apartment, I watched her strip. I let her unzip my pants and push me to the sofa.
I was buzzed as hell, but I wasn’t wasted. I chose to get my dick wet, and the entire time I was doing it, my chest got tighter and that clawing dug deeper and deeper.
Then the elevator door opened, I saw Cora’s eyes, and the feeling stopped.
I hadn’t availed myself of other women’s offers since I met Cora—I had no desire to—and then, after ignoring several passes over the years, I randomly decide one night tolet Delaney Pierson ride my cock. It isn’t like me. Maybe that’s why it’s sitting so strangely.
I didn’t break any unspoken promises. A woman doesn’t sign the kind of prenup that Cora did unless she sees the world in very utilitarian and mercenary terms. Her pride is smarting. I’m sure she’ll let me know the precise cost of smoothing things over soon enough.
There’s no reason for me to feel this unsettled. Nothing has essentially changed.
There’s just no more pretense between us. Cora doesn’t have to pretend that she loves me, and I don’t have to wait any longer for her to grow tired of the act.
This is the marriage I wanted.
Regret would be unreasonable.
4
CORA
There arenew guys on my security detail today, and I don’t like them. One’s not a guy at all. She’s a woman named Pence whose ponytail is so tight, it makes her forehead Botox smooth, even when she’s sneering, which she does at all times.
The other is a man named Meyer. You can tell from the way he stands that he thinks I’m stupid and this assignment is a waste of his time. I can’t put my finger on what exactly about his stance says all that, but the vibe is so strong that Pearl whispered in my ear, “What’s wrong with the man?” within a half hour of meeting him.
Last week, I would’ve told Adrian immediately, and they’d both be gone, but I don’t trust that man with my problems anymore. Heisthe problem, and today I get to work on a solution.
I tell Pence and Meyer that they need to follow me in their own car because I want to drive my new Rennard to my appointment, and I’m dropping the kids off with their Aunt Kendra on the way.
I wasn’t specific about the appointment. Based on Meyer’s barely concealed huff, they probably think it’s formy hair or nails—maybe a follow-up with Farhadi about my feet since Adrian somehow found out about them and called the doctor to the house to look at them. However, I’m actually meeting with Drake Chambers, Attorney at Law.
I’m doing it. Step one in getting myself out of this mess before things really go off the rails. My stomach is a riot of nerves, my heart hurts like a broken bone, and I don’t know how I’m breathing, let alone driving a brand-new car in unfamiliar territory, but if I don’t move forward, the blackness stalking me will catch up, and I can’t let that happen.
I keep my mind focused on the road and my girls. My brain might be a little fuzzy, but I’ve functioned in more dire conditions than this.
I’ve managed to avoid Adrian all week. Every day, he sends Vera to invite me to dinner, and I decline. In the morning, I have a tray sent up with coffee and Pearl’s cereal and fruit so I can avoid him at the breakfast table, and he’s at work all day, so it’s not too hard to dodge him.
If he wanted to see me, he knows where to find me—if we’re home, the kids and I are always in the nursery or playing outside—but he didn’t bother, and that’s fine by me. It’ll help me get used to the future where I only see him to hand off the kids for visitation.
The thought of that makes my body shake so hard my teeth clatter, but bodies do their own thing. You have to ignore them and keep moving.
Luckily, Kendra is home today. She’s always happy to take the girls if she’s free. She writes children’s books, and we’ve been to her signings in the city, so in Pearl’s mind, her aunt is a celebrity.
When I met her, Kendra had that same sunshiny aura that Mrs. Flowers had, but now, almost three years later, her shine is muted. Maybe Gideon cheats on her, too.
In hindsight, I should’ve figured Adrian wouldn’t befaithful. I marvel every day at how the world rolls out the red carpet for the Maddoxes, and how they stroll through life like giants in Munchkinland. I’ve known enough men in my life. Most will wheedle or connive to get what they want, or just take it, so why wouldn’t the rich ones accept whatever’s offered to them without a second thought?
No strings attached sex on a sofa while they scroll their phone. Their stupid wife’s adoration. Whatever they’re in the mood for.
