“No.” I refuse to believe what he’s saying. “That’s not him. I’m sure he’ll pay.”
“Kenna, I’m sorry. I’ve seen this happen hundreds of times. It’s always the same.”
I wipe a tear as it rolls down my cheek and look up, blinking my eyes rapidly, hoping to stifle the flood I feel forming behind that single drop. Luke waits as I get myself together, and doesn’t flinch as I ask, “Why do you do what you do? Aren’t you just ruining people’s lives? How can you live with yourself?”
Instead of taking offense, he softens his eyes and lays out some very real, if difficult to hear, truth. “If I didn’t do it, there are plenty of others ready to take my place. I’m simply providing a service. And it’s easy money.” He places his hands on the table, and turns them palms up, the picture of blamelessness and understanding. “Look, Kenna. There are thousands of people, millions even, who are all looking to make a quick buck. Very few ever do. But they keep doing it because they all believe one day their unicorn bet will hit and all their financial problems will be resolved.” He shrugs, dropping his hands to his lap. “It’s fucking sad, really.”
My name gets called, but I’m glued to the bench. I can’t move.
“I’ll get it.” Luke springs out of his seat and retrieves my order.
I look at the clock on the cafe wall. Ten minutes. That’s all it took for my life to be completely turned upside down. Am I that naïve? How has this been going on right under my nose the entire time?
Luke puts the coffees and bag of bagels in front of me, then he slips me his business card. All it has on it is his name, phone number, and email address. There is no business or title listed.
I look up. “Why would I need this?” I bite. “I just told you I have three dollars to my name. If you’re trolling for clients, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“I have an older sister. She helps people. Women and children in particular. If you’re scared of him. If he hurts you. If—”
“You think he hurts me?” I shake my head. “He doesn’t. Ever.”
Does he?
“I’m glad to hear it. But nobody is a victim until they are. Having a large debt come due can make men do things they wouldn’t have previously thought they were capable of. Kenna, this isn’t my first rodeo. Believe me when I say you should get out while you can.”
I stare at the bag with the picture of various bagels on it, all with eyes and mouths like bagel emojis. My thoughts flash back to a few months ago.
Cyrus was mad. Really mad. Amelia had gone through the baby gate and wandered into his office while I showered. She got into his desk drawers. Messed up some files. Drew on some papers. Spilled an old cup of coffee which stained his prized oak desk. He blamed me for leaving the gate open, and her for the mess. Said I was stupid and careless. Called her filthy and difficult. The guilt I felt over it had me making his favorite meals for an entire week.
The thing is, I really thought the gate was shut. Not only didn’t I have a reason to open it unless I was accessing the storage closet, I swear I checked it every time I walked by. I knew that washisspace. He didn’t want me in his office, let alone Amelia. Just as he never stepped foot in Amelia’s bedroom, neither of us ever entered his private oasis. The question I’ve never allowed myself to ask all these months suddenly pops into my head:DidI leave it open? Or didhe?
Instantly, a dozen other scenarios flood my head, and I begin to shake as I question the last year of my life.
“Do you love him?” the guy has the nerve to ask.
His words tear through me like I’m being ripped apart by a tornado. It’s the million-dollar question.DoI love Cyrus? Or was he just the nice guy who rode in like a white knight and promised to take care of the down-on-her-luck single mom?
I think I might love him. Or maybe it’s more that I love the idea of being married. Of having someone to help me raise Amelia. But has he? Helped? Because lately I could swear he only sees her as a burden. Maybe now that he owes so much money, he even seesmethat way.
“I have to go. He’ll be wanting his coffee.”
He nods to the business card. “Keep it. My sister can help find you temporary housing if you decide to leave. But Kenna, if you do leave, make sure you cut all ties, okay? It’s not enough just to leave. You need to not be his wife anymore. Do you understand? For your safety and that of your child, get out and don’t look back.”
I stand up, sniff back my tears, and give Luke one last look. “I’m not sure whether to thank you or spit on you.”
He nods. “I get it. Good luck, Kenna.”
Before going back to the office, I visit the bathroom. Luckily, I have my purse with me, and I re-apply the makeup I cried away. I stare at myself in the mirror. “What did you get yourself into?”
I should leave. Take Luke’s advice and get out now. File for divorce. Hell, get out of town, if that’s what it takes. But I can’t get myself to walk out the front door. I have to see Cyrus. He’s my husband. The man I pledged my life to.
Breathing deeply, I pick up breakfast and head to the elevator.
With every floor the elevator ascends, my heart pounds even faster. I’m not even sure what I’m going to do when I get up there. By the time the doors open on floor twenty-six, I’m positive there’s been a misunderstanding. Luke isn’t who he sayshe is. For all I know, he’s a scorned divorcé who’s pissed at Cyrus for not getting him what he wanted.
Walking past my desk, I’ve all but convinced myself. Because, honestly, what sort of wife has zero clue that her husband has gambled away a hundred thousand dollars? It’s ridiculous. Unconscionable. I mean, what’s more plausible? That Cyrus has done this under my nose all this time? Or that a random stranger is trying to exact some sort of revenge against his lawyer?
With a cautious smile on my face, I approach Cyrus’s office. His door is cracked. Not shut. Not open. Cracked. And I hear his voice.
