“It’s not about making it worse. It’s about . . .” Milo frowned. “Shifting the focus, I guess. He’s not thinking about you slipping away right now. He’s thinking about another man touching his wife. How much he hates me. And what’s the easiest route for him to get back at me?”
“That just seems so . . . transactional.”
“Because it is.” Milo shrugged. “I would be shocked if Jesse actually cared about Bea at all.”
Eliana’s nose scrunched as she turned back to look at him. “How do you mean?”
“Well, don’t get me wrong here, I don’t think there is anyexcuse for cheating. But the discussion we had the other day, about how stereotypical Jesse and Bea were with their motives, got me thinking. I’ve been doing some reading on the topic and, well, I have a theory.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Okay.” Milo cleared his throat. “So there are a lot of studies around why men and women choose to cheat, and a lot of the reasons are circumstantial—but by and large, there is a clear difference in motivation between the two. Now don’t shoot the messenger, but the simple explanation is that men are more physical and women are more emotional.”
Eliana snorted, but Milo pushed forward, “I would be willing to bet that Jesse isattractedto Bea, while also believing himself to be completely and wholly in love with you. And I’d bet that he considers the cheating to be separate from your relationship due to a complete lack of emotion on his part. Bea, on the other hand—I’m almost certain she’s plotting something.”
He paused, releasing a heavy sigh. “Have you ever heard of monkey-branching?” He glanced sideways, noting her head shake. “It’s this concept surrounding how one partner will engage in cheating because they consider their current relationship doomed, and are lining up their next partner . . . and well, it makes sense. I think that’s her play. She wants him for herself, or, more likely, she wants the life that he’s provided to you.”
“Well, shit,” Eliana huffed, considering. Clem would have a field day over the depth of his analysis. “I don’t know what’s worse. A husband who fucks around, believing himself to be in love, or a wife who fucks around, plotting to destroy it.”
“Both versions suck,” Milo answered, “but I prefer mysituation. I can see the truth that’s been there all along. Her indifference. How she’s used me. I wish I’d figured it out sooner, but knowing she’s already let me go has made it easier for me to lethergo. I’m sure she’ll put on a good show, but it’ll just be for the sake of the lawyers. Your case, however,” Milo grimaced, “I can’t imagine that Jesse will make things easy for you. Especially with your daughters. And I just want to say I truly respect what you’re doing. Building something for yourself. It’s impressive.”
Eliana reached forward, flipping her vents open to let the airflow cool her flushed cheeks. “I owe a lot of it to you. This job has got me months ahead of my original plan.”
“I’m just grateful that I was in a position where I could help,” he said. “And besides, I owe you, too. There’s no telling how long it would’ve taken me to figure things out if you hadn’t told me.”
“That’s just common decency.”
Milo shook his head, “It’s not as common as you’d think. You deserve the best, Bugs.”
She laughed, smiling up at him. “You do too, Milo.”
They settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence following the weight of their conversation while Milo drove and Eliana scrolled through messages on the reading app she’d been publishing to. She’d gotten an email just that morning that the app had monetized her content . . . and well, she wasn’t exactly sure what that would mean in the long run, but there was suddenly a lot of new documentation to complete for tax purposes.
It was also asking for a bank account, and Eliana bit her lip at the joy that rose within her as she keyed in her new bank details. The account was pretty meager, since she’d only added a couple of paychecks,but it was inhername and only housed moneyshe’dearned. There was a heady power to that.
It left a smile on her face for the remainder of the drive.
When they finally reached thesigns announcing the upcoming exits of Elliston, Eliana cast a dubious side eye at Milo when he drove straight past the exit for their hotel. Her head swiveled to watch it pass, as if keeping her eyes on it would make it re-materialize before them.
She sucked on a tooth for a moment as she considered Milo, who seemed completely unbothered. “So . . . uh, where are we going?”
He turned his head, his smile crooked when he answered, “I have an idea. Do you trust me?”
Eliana nodded before she’d even considered the question, her answer instinctual.
“Good,” he said. “Then hold tight, we’re almost there, and I want it to be a surprise.”
“Alright,” she answered slowly, glancing down at the city as they crossed the overpass. It was your standard urban city, the closest to home, though there was a certain dreary quality to it. Everything was modern, yet forgotten. The trees and grass were browning with the change of seasons. There were a handful of factories pumping their pollution into the sky. Just grey and brown, as far as the eye could see, with only the smallest splashes of color to disrupt the monotonous image Elliston presented. She couldn’t fault Jesse for his choice, for it was certainly a fitting place to plan an affair—an act just as disappointing and disillusioning as its host.
Then they were getting off the next exit, and Eliana was taking in the names of everything they passed, trying to guess where Milo was headed. Yet, when they pulled in atthe long, blood-red building with the wordsRagewritten in giant black letters over the entrance, she still wasn’t certain what, exactly, he had up his sleeve.
“Rage?” Eliana read, her brows nearly touching as she eyed the windows, trying to get a peek inside and discern the building’s purpose.
“Yep.” Milo turned, his eyes cautious as he continued. “Have you ever been to a rage room?” She shook her head in answer. “I figured that would be the case. So, a rage room is a place where you go for the sole purpose of crashing out.”
“Crashing out?” Eliana repeated, more confused than anything as she tried to process what he was saying. She had heard Zoey talking nonstop about an escape room she wanted to try. “Like one of those places where you solve the puzzles?—“
“No,” Milo chuckled. “Definitely no puzzles. You just rage. The room is filled with junk. You use a bat or a hammer, and you just break it.”
