Drawing in a long breath, I head down the hallway. While I’m craving some distance between us, I also wonder what it would be like to crawl under the covers and hold his hand until we fall asleep. Instead, I find myself standing in a perfectly staged guest room, complete with a bedside table zen garden. But I feel anything but zen.One thing at a time, I remind myself.
First, I decide to unpack what little I brought. I open my clear backpack and sigh. For the first time in my life, I only packed what I needed for one boring night by myself in a random hotel near the stadium. A rookie move. My usual giant suitcase, filled with everything from a thong swimsuit to a ball gown, is nowhere to be found. In its place is a small backpack containing one comfortable lounge set, a fitted white T-shirt, and approximately seven pairs of underwear. Just the essentials.
As I strip off my jeans, the letter I brought—the sole reason I’m here—sticks out of my right pocket. Obviously, I have to give it to him when the time is right. Is there ever going to be a “right”time, though? Maybe I should just leave it here, and he can read it after I’m gone.
No. I have to face this head on.
Just not tonight.
I don’t want to leave the letter out in the open in the unlikely event that Danny comes in here, so I do what any other well-adjusted adult would do—hide it under the bed. Crouching down to the floor, I start to slide the envelope underneath the frame,but my hand is stopped by something. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I reach a little further, realizing it’s some sort of book.Oh no. There is a zero percent chance I’ll keep this mysterious book under the bed and forget about it. My biggest toxic trait is snooping. I’m not proud of it, but at least I’m self-aware.
Swiping the book out from below the bed, I brush the dust off. It’s a large, leather-bound scrapbook. I lift the cover and slowly thumb through the pages. Everything in here is football-related: certificates from high school, ticket stubs, an autographed picture of his favorite player, and a handful of articles outlining Danny’s successes. I roll my eyes.All that suspense for nothing. Serves me right for snooping to begin with—of course it would be a snoozefest.
As I close the book, another newspaper article falls out. I flip over the article and gasp. It’s not a football story.
This article, from theColumbus Dispatch, covers the grand opening of my animal clinic. I brush my fingers across the paper, which looks worn, like someone held it in their hands more than once. My heart is racing, and I’m in disbelief as my brain tries to process how he got this article. Has he been back to Ohio since he left? Did Janie give this to him? My stomach drops—didMaesend him the article?
This leaves me with many questions and no answers. I weigh my options. I can’t bring this up casually, because then he’ll know I snooped. But maybe I could bite the bullet and just ask him?Shit. Which option would a somewhat mature thirty-year-old woman choose? I pace across the room, back and forth, mulling my options over.
There’s so much swirling around in my mind right now, and I need to talk this out. I whip out my phone and call the only number that makes sense for this situation.
I wait impatiently for him to answer.
“Hello?”
“Ben!” I whisper-scream into the phone.
“Grace?”
“Yes! It’s me! Obviously!”
“Why do you sound like you’re in an active hostage situation? Should I get Mia on the phone? Out of the two of us, she has more experience in criminal law. Unless you’re in a very tense situation that requires an environmental lawyer. Are you in an area with illegal pollution, Grace?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Benjamin. I’m calling because not one house in the rich neighborhood I’m in has solar panels. Can you believe it?”
“Are you being serious or not? I can’t tell…”
“Jesus Christ. Put your wife on the phone, I can’t take this!”
“Okay, I will,” he says absentmindedly. “Mia, can you come? Grace is going through another crisis of sorts, maybe a criminal law situation…”
I hear shuffling in the background. “Before I hand you over to Mia, Purrlock Holmes has been hacking up this weird type of hair lately, and?—”
“Not the time, Ben. Ask me your cat questions later.”
“Alright, alright. Jeez. Here’s Mia.”
“Grace, everything okay? Ben said something about a crime?”
“No. The only crime is your husband’s inability to read a room!”
“Oh,” she says fondly. “I was kind of worried, but that makes much more sense. What’s up?”
“I am freaking out. I’m in Danny’s guest room, and?—”
“Wait.YourDanny’s guest room?TheDanny? I?—”
“Dan Thompson?!” Ben shouts in the background. “Mia, give me my phone back. This is a Winfield High Defcon Level One Situation.”
