Eliana was put on bed rest for the last trimester, but the timing had worked out with Jesse entering the workforce—even if it did delay Eliana signing up for her own courses. And then the twins arrived, and her schooling was delayedagain. They were so tiny and delicate and in need of constant care—which was expensive to outsource for one, much lesstwo.
Life moved forward. Days became years, and the girls grew beyond the age of daycare, graduating up into the public school system. Jesse moved forward as well, climbing the career ladder and landing management roles with six-figure salaries. But Eliana . . .she stayed the same, settling into a state of limbo.
She loved her experience being a stay-at-home mom. She loved being there for every second of their childhoods. Sheloved being present for each milestone, each doctor appointment, never missing a family dinner or bedtime story. She mastered the art of caring for the home, prepping meals, and recording memories. She learned to bake and sew and found a community in reading that she never anticipated.
However, she still wanted to contribute financially, and she’d thought Jesse was on the same page. That is, until she’d brought up the topic shortly after the girls had started kindergarten, and had been floored to learn just how fiercely Jesse opposed the idea.
“You don’t think I can provide enough for you to stay home? Have I not been managing just fine for the last five years? I’ve gotten three promotions, Elly.”
“No, it’s not about you providing—” Eliana argued. “I just want to do something. I get bored sitting around the house. Would it not be smart to have two incomes now that I’ve got all this free time? We could just throw it in a college fund or something. Give me something to do during the day.”
“I don’t like it. It makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That you need more. What else do you need? I can work harder.”
“Jesse, no, we have plenty. Maybe I could just help manage the finances? Be like the home secretary?”
“I don’t know. I already know where everything is, and it’s all in my name, so if you call, they’re just going to want to talk to me anyways. It’d be easier if I just took care of it. Can you trust me to do that?”
“I do, but I want to contribute. I want to have more of a purpose in this family.”
“But you already do, Elly. You’re our glue. The girls’ mom, my wife. We wouldn’t be anything without you. Let me take care of you. Okay?”
“Okay,” Eliana said, then and now, pulling her mind back to the present. “I trust you.”
“Thank you,” Jesse sighed. “I’m going to jump, alright? I need to get up to my room for a call in ten minutes.”
“No worries. I love you.”
“Love you too,” he said, ending the call.
Eliana lingered for a long moment, staring down at the phone in her hand and debating with herself. She had no reason to suspect.No reason. But just to pacify the little voice in the back of her mind . . . the logic that felt so much like betrayal . . . she pulled up the hotel’s website and clicked through the booking software, entering fake details.
And when it loaded the available options for the night, Eliana sat motionless for several long minutes, her eyes glued to the arrow at the bottom of the screen, displaying six pages . . .
Sixpages of available rooms to peruse.
2
DENIED
Eliana blamed the novels she read for her suspicious nature. She was self-aware enough to acknowledge that her mild childhood fantasy obsession—which evolved into a fan-fiction fascination, which then flourished into a love for all things dark and gritty—had probably colored her view of the world.
So in the two days that followed the hotel debacle, Eliana thought about the possibilities. Every potential scenario. She considered it logically, choosing to give her husband offourteenyears the benefit of the doubt. They’d been inseparable since he’d asked her to be his girlfriend when they were twelve years old, and in all that time, he’d never given her a reason to believe he would cheat. Lying about the availability of a hotel room did not even necessarily indicate hewascheating. If he was just there for sex, wouldn’t it have made more sense to be inconspicuous? Get the cheapest room that nobody looks twice at? Or simplynotswipe the personal credit card at all . . . which she had access to?
Unless it wasn’t the sex itself that motivated him . . . butthethrillof it. Eliana shook her head, banishing the thought. She’d been with him for more than half her life. Sheknewhim. She knew his heart. She was not about to condemn him without any actual evidence.
Maybe he just wanted to stay in a fancy room. Maybe there was a malfunction in the software. Maybe the hotel lied to make an extra dollar. There wereoptions. For two days, she debated asking for clarification, but decided to let it go . . . choosing to believe it was a fluke. He’d said the charge was getting reimbursed, so it didn’t matter. And she wanted to believe. More than anything, she wanted to believe.
So when he returned home two days later—she was ready with a smile, having put her worries behind her. Until later that very same evening, when Jesse was showering, and she found herself, once again, sitting on the side of the bed and staring incredulously down at the phone in her hand. He’d left it plugged in on the bedside table, as was typical. However, for the first time in their relationship, his phone did not unlock to her fingerprint. She swiped up and keyed in the passcode.
Denied.
He’d always saved her birthday as his password on every phone. Always. It was a running joke between the two of them.No better way to remember than by entering it fifty times a day,he’d joked.
She took a slow breath, trying and failing to calm her racing mind.There are other possibilities, she thought desperately.It doesn’t have to be what it looks like.
She stepped into the bathroom, eyeing him through the glass door as the water rinsed the soap from his hair.
“Hey, babe,” Eliana called, working to keep her voice level. “My phone died, and I needed to Google a recipe. Butyour phone won’t open for me. Did you delete my fingerprint?
