The call was answered, but she didn’t speak. Jon could feel the silent fury coming down the phone line.
“Um, hi, I wonder if you could come over here to the other 26 Oakpark to help me out. Savannah wants to see you in person.”
In the kitchen doorway, Savannah looked confused, and slightly alarmed.
On the phone, Greta cleared her throat.
“Jon, what the actual—are you asking me to come over and pretend to be Susan?”
“Exactly.” Anything to keep Savannah away from Susan, away from their home. Maybe there was still a chance he could walk out of this house today, marriage intact, and never see Savannah again.
“For fuck’s sake.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Silence. He willed her to do it. Even if it just bought him some time to plan, it would be worth it. Anything to stop Savannah going to see Susan right now.
“Fine,” Greta said eventually, “but this is a temporary fix while Susan’s dealing with the fallout from the message. Once that blows over, you confess. She isnotto hear it from that woman. You’ll tell her everything yourself.”
“Sure, I absolutely will.” He absolutelywouldn’t. He wanted to magic Savannah and the entire affair out of existence. But he’d worry about that later. For now, he just needed to keep Savannah away from Susan.
“And just to be clear,” Greta added, “I’m doing this for Susan. Not for you.”
“Understood. Just please, hurry.”
91
Savannah
Last week
Savannah stared at Jon as he stood in her hallway, talking to his wife about their affair. She hadn’t expected that. She was furious and desperate to punish him, but now it was all feeling a bit…too real? And now he was telling his wife to come here, to Savannah’s house. Why would he do that? It would be horrifically awkward. In Savannah’s version, she would call at Susan’s door, tell her who she was and what he’d done, then flounce off to leave them to it. She didn’t actually want Jon’s wife in her house or in any kind of in-depth conversation. What was he thinking?
Jon had ended the call but was still in the hall, looking at something on his phone. Or pretending to, at least.
“Why the hell is she coming here? I don’t want to see your wife!”
“You said you wanted to talk to her?”
The puzzled frown was both fake and infuriating. The dynamic had shifted and Savannah didn’t like it.
“That doesn’t mean I want her in my house.”
“Fine, she can stay on the doorstep. It’s not a big deal, to be honest. Welive quite separate lives, as I said. But if you insist on talking to her…” He finishes the sentence with an infuriating shrug.
“If the marriage is ‘all but over,’ why wouldn’t you come out to see me last night when I was outside your house?”
“Because it was after midnight. The baby was asleep.”
There was something in the way he said that—as though his and Susan’s needs trumped hers, just because they had a baby. Like a baby-on-board sign personified. Fury surged again.
“Then why did you take my car keys?”
“Christ, Savannah, do you think I want this drama on my doorstep? The other Oakpark isn’t quite as private as this one—the hedges aren’t so high and the driveways aren’t so long. The entire neighborhood would witness it.” He muttered something then under his breath, and she was almost sure she heard the words “broken window.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” He heaved a sigh. “We have a lot going on at the moment.”
