In the elevator on the way to the ground floor, I once again think of how he keeps promising to merge our bank accounts ‘soon.’ I get that he owns a business and doesn’t want to mingle that, but he also has a personal checking account. He pays me a decent wage, but after covering my agreed-upon portion of the rent and Amelia’s daycare, there’s never much left for anything else.
I mean, he takes care of me for the most part, paying the majority of the bills. He takes me out for dinner occasionally. Not as much as he used to, but life is busy, right?
And he’s a decent enough stepdad to Amelia. He hasn’t taken to her as much as I’d hoped he would, but I get it. She’s not his. It’s still just as hard to watch him become less and less tolerant of her ‘terrible-two’ behavior as it is to hear him blame me for not keeping her under control. She’s two. Nothing she’s doing is abnormal or unexpected. And I’m a good mom, even if I am a young one.
Cyrus is eighteen years older than I am. I think that’s what drew me to him in the first place. A stable man with a good career. And he was so good to me. Taking me under his wing. Giving me a job. Making me feel important.
The elevator stops to let a woman on, and my mind starts to race. Hewasgood to me. As in past tense. When did he stop being the good, chivalrous man I married? The one who promised to take care of Amelia and me? Was it last week? Last month? I can’t even pinpoint when it happened. Has it been happening all along, such a slow progression I didn’t even realize it? Until now?
I shake my head. Maybe it’s me expecting too much. We’ve been married for over eight months. The ‘honeymoon’ phase is most definitely over. Maybe this is how all marriages go?
Stifling a scoff, I push that thought away. I know in my heart that’s not it. My husband is a divorce lawyer. A divorce lawyer for men only. At any given time, he’s usually handling about forty cases. And there is no shortage of men calling and wanting representation. I knew people got divorced. I just didn’t realize how many until I came to work here.
A new level of frustration and dismay creeps into my thoughts. Maybe a divorce lawyer for men only might not be capable of being a proper husband. I see what he does day in and day out, doing his best to keep wives from getting a penny more than their husbands think they deserve. And sadly, theynever think they deserve much. Is that how Cyrus sees me? Undeserving?
On the ground floor now, I meander into the bagel shop and place my order. While I wait, I get out my phone and scroll through the latest pictures I’ve taken of Amelia. At nearly three, her smile takes my breath away every time I look at her. She got Jerry’s red hair, which is a constant reminder of the man who didn’t want anything to do with her.
I close my eyes and wonder if it’s me. Maybe I’m attracted to men who turn out to be bad for me.
Not for the first time, I worry I may have rushed to the altar with Cyrus. But I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it. It’ll get better. Once he’s passed this midlife crisis or whatever.
“Oh, hey, you’re the girl from upstairs.”
I look up and see the same unfamiliar man who was in Cyrus’s office.
I paste on a smile, because maybe this stranger can fill in some blanks. “I’m Kenna.”
He holds out a hand. “Luke. I see we have the same taste in bagel shops. I love this place.”
When I shake his hand, he clasps mine for a long time, gazing into my eyes and looking all charming. It almost feels as if he’s about to proposition me. A blush works across my face and I decide to shut him down before he has a chance. “Are you a new client of my husband?”
His head cocks to the side and he studies me. “You’re married to Cyrus Kelly?”
I hold up my left hand and flash my ring.
“Wow, okay.” He steps back and rubs his jaw like he’s contemplating something. “I wouldn’t normally do this. I don’t like to get involved. But you seem like a nice girl, and it’s obvious you have no clue who I am.”
“Should I?”
“Ma’am, I’m your husband’s bookie.”
“Bookie?” I narrow my brows in complete confusion. “As in a guy who takes bets?”
He laughs. “Well, it’s more than that, but yeah, I guess I’m a guy who takes bets. And I’ve taken a lot of them from Cyrus. It’s why I showed up here. He’s being cut off and his debt is due.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
He takes my elbow and gently guides me away from the other people waiting on their orders. “Listen, Kenna. He owes me quite a bit of money. And by the look on your face, I’d bet you had no idea about his gambling addiction.”
My hand comes to my chest. “Addiction?” I blurt defensively. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been his bookie for a long time. He used to be more of the run-of-the-mill kind of gambler. You know, the type who only bets on big events like the Kentucky Derby, the Final Four, and the Super Bowl. But in the past eighteen months or so, he’s become much more… immersed. And word has it, it’s not just sports betting. He’s been frequenting casinos in Atlantic City. An acquaintance of mine was playing blackjack with him last month. Said Cyrus lost at least five grand.”
My mouth falls open and my head spins. I quickly calculate how long I’ve known Cyrus. It hasn’t even been close to eighteen months. More like twelve. On one hand, I’m happy it had nothing to do with me and Amelia. Still, I’m shocked. Is this why he’s been so hesitant to merge our finances?
I lean against the wall, feeling sick. Cyrus is addicted to gambling? And he owes this guy money. It explains a lot. Why he’s been different lately. Short tempered and not as charming as the guy who swept me off my feet.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me how much he owes.” It’s hard to keep the confrontational edge out of my voice. Because this is all so… unbelievable.
