The Lion's Den (Faraway Book 2) (27 page)

I dropped the kids off at school and drove to the police station. Why did life have to be so hard? Vince was drinking a cup of coffee and reading some reports when I went in. I wanted to lay down with him, again. I walked toward his door. I was about to turn away, the same way I had the previous days before, but I paused. I was torn. I needed to be away from him for my sanity and near him for my happiness. There must be something between crazy and happy. That was my marriage, though.

“Hey, I heard Allison’s party is coming up.”

“Olivia invited?”

“Yes. Any idea what she wants? We need to go this weekend and buy her a present.”

“The only thing she asked for was for me to move back in.”

My heart sank as I watched the sadness fall across Vince’s face. “Oh, Vince.” He didn’t say a word to make it better. There was nothing he could say. “Did you think about it?”

What is coming out of my mouth?

I held up my hand before he could answer, “Don’t answer that.”

“It’s okay. I did think about it. I thought about how Lynn and I could make it work and let our kids have their lives back.”

“And?”

“And there’s just no way. Even before I left, there was no way, but now too much has happened. Lynn is happy. I’m happy.”

“You both just have to keep working hard to make sure your kids are happy.”

“I know.”

“You’re an amazing father.” Vince didn’t say anything. He just looked at me as if he’d been through a war, and in a way, he had been. “You’re an incredible person.” He smiled a little. I was breaking through. “You’re a phenomenal lover.”

We heard steps behind us as Thompson came through the front entrance of the barracks, whistling. I turned around and returned to my desk. If there was such a thing as the right way to handle the end of a marriage, Vince was doing it. He was respectful, loving, and kind. And to Lynn’s knowledge—and my own at the moment—there was no one else involved. His children were his priority.

Then there was Brad and me. We deserved each other. Cheating, lying, conniving. Vince was too good to be in the same town as us, let alone wrapped up in our nonsense. I was spending my time trying to get Brad’s little whore to deliver the evidence I needed to extort a divorce from him. Posting pictures and quotes online to enrage her to the point of showing up with screenshots of texts from Brad’s phone professing his love for her. Pictures, too, I hoped. I’d staple copies of all of them to Brad’s corporate sexual harassment policy, along with a divorce agreement that gave me sole custody. I’d threaten to expose Brad to the executive board of his firm if he didn’t sign. I would do anything to keep my kids.

I wallowed in these ideas the rest of the day. Vince went out on patrol, and I lingered in his office while I dropped off the files I’d completed. His wedding picture was missing. What do you do with your wedding portrait after a marriage ends and you take it down?

I’d gone from being not the kind of woman who had an affair, to the kind of woman who taunted her husband’s lover over the Internet. I needed to reevaluate myself and my situation, because as good of a man as Vince was, I was unimpressed with myself.

I left the office and drove to the kids’ school. I waited in the carpool line and tried to convince myself Brad was the reason I was a terrible person. If there were a chance he could be civil, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I snaked through the line, waited for Liv and James’s names to be called.

By the time I was close to the front, I let myself off the hook. I wanted to talk to Vince about it. He would make me feel better. He would tell me I wasn’t as terrible as I thought I was, but I couldn’t. I had to stay away from him. For both of our sakes.

James climbed in the car first and dove over the back seat into the third row. Liv followed and buckled up behind me. We drove through our little town as the clouds floated by above us. And then Liv said, “Sometimes I just feel like this is all someone else’s dream, and I’m just a part of it.”

“I know what you mean,” I said.

Or a nightmare.

BRAD HAD BEEN IN SINGAPORE
for three weeks. It felt like six months. I took the time off from Facebook and just lived my real life the entire time. Liv, James, and I attended church every Sunday. They went to Sunday school and learned about God’s love and Jesus. I sat alone and watched the colonel. I had too much to confess to really pay attention to the sermons. If I listened to them, I might actually regret my latest endeavor, which was quickly becoming a burden. Torturing people was exhausting. Plus, there was always a chance my assumptions about Dharma’s motivations were completely wrong, however unlikely that may be.

When Brad returned, I promised myself I’d keep up the social media assault until the end of April. It was only two weeks away, and if nothing came of it, I had to come up with another plan. I wasn’t doing Brad
or
the swim team over the summer break. Maybe this was karma. Maybe I deserved to live the rest of my life watching Brad fuck his young whore. That wasn’t nice. I was banking on her not being a whore and that she was somehow in love with Brad. God bless her.

New dress. New makeup. New shoes. Same drill, except on this particular Saturday, Brad and I spent the day with a real estate agent, looking at two condos in the city. Brad hated the first one, but the second condo impressed him to the point of wanting to put in an offer immediately. It was a two-bedroom co-op in a great neighborhood. It surprised me that Brad was more interested in high-end fixtures and unique architecture than a doorman and a twenty-four-hour fitness center.

After we parted ways with the realtor, I surprised him with dinner reservations at a restaurant a block from Dharma’s apartment. He was difficult at first, but he eventually caved and drove us to the restaurant.

Had they eaten here before?

Maybe. I didn’t care. Caring wasn’t part of my plan.

Brad ordered a bottle of cabernet as soon as we were seated at a small table by the windows. He was the old Brad, happy something had been decided. He was a deal closer. I sipped my wine and checked in on Facebook while Brad discussed an offer with the realtor on his phone. The other patrons began to stare, and he stood and walked out the front door of the restaurant.

I could see through the window that Brad was nodding and smiling as he spoke into the phone. The condo had been on the market one hundred twenty-seven days. There should be no counter offers. Brad continued to speak and nod. He was shaking his head, and then he tilted his face to the sky. It was taking so long, I wasn’t sure if he was still on the phone with the realtor, but then he turned and walked back into the restaurant. He’d lost his jolly demeanor. The constant stress that surrounded Brad Walsh returned.

We ate our lobster raviolis in silence. When Brad looked up, I smiled at him to put him at ease, but sweat covered his forehead. If something didn’t give, he was going to have a heart attack.

“Did you notice where the bathroom was when you went outside?” I asked

“It’s just past the hostess stand. On the left,” Brad said and finished his glass of wine. While he refilled it, I stood and grabbed my purse from the back of my chair and walked away.

The bathroom was small. It had two occupied stalls and wallpaper with large white roses covering the non-square walls. The giant roses had dark green leaves between them, making the immense pattern feel as if it were everywhere around me, even above my head. I was drowning in the white roses. Both stalls freed at the same time, and I slipped into one. I listened as the women talked about the out-of-date wallpaper and the sloping floors while they washed their hands. And then I was alone with my mind. The frustration with my marriage was spilling over in my head. It was time to talk to Brad. To try honesty.

The notion consumed me. I almost convinced myself Brad could be civil if we split up. I washed my hands, lost in the idea that we could co-parent Liv and James without any hatred or regret. As I pulled the lever on the paper towel holder, I decided tonight was the night Brad and I would talk. I inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled.

We can do this.

The door opened, and Dharma walked in.

She looked like hell. Her tight, boob-highlighting dress from the party was replaced with yoga pants and a stained Key West T-shirt. Her eyes were swollen, as if she hadn’t slept the night before or was having some type of allergic reaction.

A lump lodged in my throat. I’d imagined this conversation a hundred times in my mind, and Dharma had always looked exactly the same as she had at the party—stunning, with her boobs in everyone’s face. I was losing my edge. She suddenly seemed very young. But her youth was my ally.

“Hello,” I said. The word was slow to form, and even slower to be said.

“Do you remember me? I’m Dharma.”

“Yes. From the office party. How are you?”

Like an animal caught in a cage, Dharma’s eyes darted around the room. I stayed perfectly still, and eventually, Dharma’s scrutiny settled on me. She was fidgeting and obviously on edge. Like, maybe the edge of reason. “I need to talk to you.” She locked the outside door of the restroom before turning back to face me. Dharma was petite. I had at least four inches on her. I could use the heel of my shoe as a weapon if I had to.

“Sure,” I said and checked my purse for my phone. This was not going as planned. “What’s on your mind?”

“Your husband has been cheating on you for two years.”

Two years.

Shock held my breath and forced me to look Dharma over again. I calculated back. Back before Vince, before I’d hated or loved my town. Disgust for my husband and his whore standing in front of me stole every logical thought I had.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

Dharma was completely unfazed. As if she was responding to a form e-mail. “Because he’s in love with me.” Even this statement wasn’t filled with the buoyant arrogance of youth. It was anchored by depression.

“Do you love him?” I needed her to love him to rid myself of him.

“I would do anything for him.” The words slipped from her lips as if she’d spoken them a hundred times before. My skin tingled with the realization that this woman had been between my husband and me for years.

“But do you love him? You seem too young to be involved in someone else’s marriage.”

Dharma stared behind me, and I turned to see what was there. There was nothing but the overbearing wallpaper. I turned back, and she was still entranced by the horrible white roses. In her empty eyes, I realized what was scaring me. Something was different about Dharma. The fight was gone, and it had been replaced by nothing.

“I’m not too young.” She rummaged through the bag hanging across her chest and pulled out a gun. The muscles in the back of my neck tightened, lifting my head and straightening my spine. I told myself to breathe.

“Of course not,” I said and kept my voice steady.

“You don’t believe me?” Dharma peered down at the gun as she voiced the words.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” I rushed out. I wanted her to be calm, so I slowed my words down. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

“He was always with me,” she said, and for the life of me, I had no idea how to react, or even how she wanted me to react. So, I said nothing and hoped that wouldn’t piss her off. “Every time he told you he was at a business dinner or a
team building
event.” She dramatically waved the gun in the air communicating she was not happy with my reaction. “He was with
me
.”

“Really?” was all I could force from my lips. The gun held my attention and left me speechless. Until a tiny voice in my head said, “He must have had some business dinners,” and I was proud of myself for remaining silent.

“He likes the way I fuck him.” This little bitch was going to lock me in a bathroom and tell me how my husband liked to be fucked. “He likes that I’m adventurous.”

Adventurous, or a slut?

I took a step toward the door, and Dharma blocked me. Her makeup looked like it was left over from the night before and she smelled of stale liquor. Brad and she deserved each other. I couldn’t stand the sight of either of them.