Instead, I plop onto a wooden bench next to the boardwalk and force Charlie to sit at my feet. We’ve only been walking for five minutes. I know he must be excited since I’m the only one who walks him, but I’m distracted at best. Anxiety has my muscles bunching and aching under the stress. I shouldn’t have offered to watch Charlie. I’m hardly competent enough to manage my own life, much less take care of a dog.
I sigh, wishing I could drop him off at home and get some peace, but I know he’ll just start barking incessantly if I do. A jogger with a Great Dane passes us, and Charlie makes a lunge for it. He’s stronger than me this time, and the leash escapes my grip. Tail wagging, he reaches the other dog that towers over him, and then he begins to bark and bounce excitedly. He’s cute, but the other dog wants nothing to do with it.
“I’m sorry, he’s crazy today.” I offer in the way of an apology to the owner. The woman is athletic. High-end workout gear fits her lean muscles to a tee, and the pieces look fresh off the rack. I can’t help the bubble of jealousy that rises within me. She’s pretty, the kind of pretty that makes mediocre girls like me uncomfortable. And now she’s just staring at me, like I’ve single-handedly ruined her day. Well, it’s not my fault. It’s the dog.
“Sorry again.” I wave as I swipe at his leash and yank him back to the bench with me. I sit down again, careful to grip the leash with a little more strength this time as a sense of defeat overtakes me. I feel like a loser who couldn’t keep her husband, but then, Dean was always a cheater. He cheated on his first wifewith me.I should have seen this one coming, but I was too busy with my own life to even consider the full extent of what he might be up to in his free time.
In an effort to distract myself, I pull out my phone and check my notifications in Instagram. The outpouring of sympathy and messages of support send a grateful tingle through my system. I smile as I heart a few of the comments, type out a few quickthank yous,and then jump to my newsfeed and begin to scroll. As if the algorithm knows how to hit below the belt, the first photo that loads is ofher.
Jesika.
The model.My model.My Mia.
My stomach burns with bitterness as I realize what she’s announcing to her followers. Her photo is carefully curated, a testing stick with two pink lines held in her left hand…and on her left ring finger? A princess cut diamond with double rows of pavé cut stones wrapping around the band.
She’s pregnant and engaged.To my husband.I feel like I want to die.
So this is why he did it. It’s been less than a week since he walked away from me, and it’s because of this. Because of her.Because they have a secret. Well, it’s not so much a secret anymore. Once it’s social-media official, there’s no take backs.
I hate him. I hate her. I hate everything about this, including myself. I hate that I trusted him and he made a fool out of me.
“Come on, you fucking mutt,” I mutter, standing from the bench and pulling Charlie along with me. He senses my energy and follows a few steps behind me, as if he’s scared of what I might do next. Well, he should be. Anger is stirring inside me. All I can think about is getting revenge and ruining their lives like they’ve ruined mine.
Within a few minutes, we’re back at the condo. Charlie veers to Margaret’s front door to go home, but I pull him back on the path to mine. A thousand emotions are swirling through my head. Like, how long have they known? When did they start dating? Does she realize who he is? Suddenly, I think I should block her on my social media if she does. The last thing I need is to log in and find some shitty comment from her on one of my posts. But then, if I block her, I lose the small window I have into their life. I’m not ready for that. Sure, it might be the healthier decision, but I’m not ready for healthy yet.
I’m ready for revenge.
Once we’re in the condo, I unhook Charlie’s leash, and he looks up at me and wags his tail.
“Good boy. I’m sorry our walk was short today.” I pat him on the head. “Do you want a treat?” With that, his little ears twitch, and he wags his tail. “Just give me a minute, Char.”
My mind still swirling with anger and pain, I slide over to the fridge and open it, eyes searching for something to give Charlie. I pull out a pack of thawed ground hamburger and open the corner. I tear off a piece and toss it at Charlie, and he eats it eagerly, then comes closer and asks for more with his big brown puppy-dog eyes.
He’s a cutie. I can see why he’s a good companion for a littleold lady. I just wish he were a little calmer and quieter. I toss Charlie another small chunk of meat and then open the medicine drawer to grab the Benadryl I use to give him a little more chill than he was born with. I frown when I realize the bottle is empty. Just one more thing Dean left me to deal with, I guess. I head back to the cabinet and search for something else to do the trick. In the way back, I find liquid Benadryl from when Dean had strep last year and couldn’t sleep at night. He couldn’t swallow pills, his throat was so swollen and painful, so he’d sent me to the store for the liquid version.
I uncap it, scan the dosage instructions on the back, then pull a small bowl from the cupboard and toss some ground beef into the dish, dumping some of the liquid on top. Dean had taken two capfuls of the medicine, so I use about half a capful, mushing it together with the raw meat and then setting it on the floor at Charlie’s feet. He gobbles it up eagerly, licks the dish clean, and then looks up at me with pleading eyes.
“You little pig.” I smile, tear him off one more chunk, and feed it to him by hand before wrapping it back up and returning it to the refrigerator. “Well, maybe we’ll all get a little peace now.”
I pat Charlie on the head and then head over to the couch and open my laptop. I want to get a look at this ring on the big screen. Within minutes, I’m zoomed in on the engagement ring, analyzing the cut and quality and comparing it to the ring Dean gave me when we got engaged. There’s no way he picked this one out himself—Jesika must have told him exactly what she wanted. I can just see them picking out the ring together, his hands cupping her still-flat stomach where their bastard offspring grows.
Bile rises in my throat, and I suddenly feel like I’m going to be sick. Setting my laptop to the side, I jump offthe couch and run to the bathroom. I lose this morning’s coffee in the toilet, tears and vomit mixing and causing an overwhelming sense of desperation to swell in my body. Dean never wanted kids—he didn’t have the dad gene, he often said. But now, here he is, knocking up his home-wrecking girlfriend and putting a ring on it.
I fold my arms and hover over the toilet as my stomach heaves until I’m exhausted and my cheeks itch with salty tear tracks. I suck in slow, ragged breaths and try to control my body’s rejection of their news. My body aches. I want a glass of wine to calm down, followed by a nap, but I can’t today. As if on cue, Charlie scratches at the bathroom door.
“Oh, bugger off, you little bastard,” I mumble, wiping at my tears as he scratches again. I stand, body aching as I stretch out the kinks in the bathroom mirror. Charlie scratches at the door again, and I cringe, realizing I’m not even with it enough at the moment to dog-sit. I assess my tired eyes in the mirror, thinking a week away in the desert would be nice. Maybe I’ve neglected myself over the last year, too focused on my career to focus on my marriage. I wonder then if Dean would be so cruel as to kick me out of the condo, leaving me homeless and with another nightmare to handle. I can only take so much heartache. I’d never known him to be so cruel in the past, but then, he seems to be a different man right now.
Charlie scratches again at the door, and a small whimper follows before I hear him plop onto the floor next to the door.
I inhale deeply, straighten my back, and then swing the door wide open. “There’s a good boy.”
My eyes narrow on the dog as I instantly realize something is wrong. Usually, he would be sleepy by now, relaxed and napping on the couch peacefully, but this is different. He’s unable to focus his eyes on me and foam isbubbling at his mouth. He doesn’t even seem strong enough to stand, and the scratching at the door was probably him kicking and thrashing his legs as he lost strength in his limbs.
Charlie looks like he’s overdosing.
“Oh shit.”
Chapter Seven
