Too Little, Too Late (11 page)

A
LEXIS SLAMMED ON HER
brakes, grabbed her coffee mug before it tipped over, then leaned against the horn. The man in the car ahead glanced at her through his rearview mirror, and in her mind, she gave him the finger. But she stopped there. It was hard to curse out anyone with the gold cross that dangled from her mirror.

Still, she slapped the steering wheel. L.A. drivers pissed her off. That guy could have taken the light—it had barely turned yellow. Now, she’d have to hope that Brian got caught at a light up ahead. Chances of that were good since this was the midst of the morning rush.

She took a sip of her coffee and waited. It wasn’t like she had to have her husband in her sight. She already knew where Brian was going. This was the third Monday in as many weeks that she had stalked him through these same streets.

The light turned green and she zipped into the next lane and then swerved in front of the guy who’d cut her off. Now she felt better.

But her relief was fleeting and within seconds, her mind was back to asking, “Why? Why? Why?” And her heart was telling her to turn around. She could have easily paid some professional trained to spy on spouses.

The thought of writing that check made her feel like a cliché—a suspecting wife and a cheating husband. She and Brian weren’t like that.

So what am I doing?
she wondered as she sped down Wilshire. At Morrison Street, she made a left, then a quick right onto Honey Lane.

She edged her car to the curb just as Brian jumped from his SUV several cars in front of her. She turned off the ignition and slid lower in her seat.

This made her crazy! The way she knew exactly which house Brian would go to. The way she knew how he’d trot up the steps, ring the doorbell, and then step inside once the woman answered the door.

Like the times before, she just stayed and watched, even though every one of her bones wanted to race up to that door and begin her beat down. In her mind, she alternated between beating her husband and his mistress. In her mind, the fight always ended the same way—with both of them spread out on the floor. And her not knowing—or caring—if they were dead or alive.

But she never made that move. And today—unlike the previous times—she wouldn’t wait for Brian to come out. She turned on the ignition, swung the car into a U-turn, and pressed toward home. She glanced at her hands gripping the steering wheel, but she felt calm. Really, there was no other way to be. She wasn’t going to cry; she had never shed a tear over a man, and now that she had sneaked past forty, she wasn’t about to begin. Brian would never come home and find her thrashing on the floor.

She was more like the gun-wielding wife with her weapon aimed at just the right body part. But she wouldn’t do that either. God and time’s wisdom kept her from making those kinds of time-behind-bars decisions.

“Didn’t expect you back so soon,” said the doorman of the apartment building where she and Brian lived.

She flipped him her keys. “Yup, Charles, I’ve got some business at home today.”

“Well, have a great day, Mrs. Ward-Lewis.”

“I will,” she said and meant it. The rest of her great day was already planned. As she stepped into the elevator, she imagined how she would confront Brian. The moment he walked through the door, she’d tell him everything she knew and then hand him his bags that she would have already packed.

But then, she shook her head. She wasn’t lifting a finger. She’d confront him and then give him thirty minutes to pack his own bags.

Just before she entered their penthouse, she changed her mind. She’d only give him
fifteen
minutes to get out of their apartment and her life for good.

B
RIAN DROPPED HIS KEYS ON
the desk and flopped into his chair. He bowed his head, exhausted, though it was barely noon. The quick knock on the door made him sit up straight.

“What’s up?” his best friend, Jefferson, said as he sank into the chair across from him. “Looks like you had a hard night.”

“More like a tough morning.” He shook his head.

Jefferson let a moment pass. “You saw her again.”

Brian nodded. “I don’t know what to do. This guilt’s got me twisted.”

Jefferson leaned back in the chair; his white doctor’s jacket fell open exposing his crisp shirt beneath. “You still haven’t told Alexis?”

Brian shook his head.

“That’s where the guilt is coming from,” Jefferson said. He leaned forward. “You’ve got to tell your wife.”

Brian chuckled, although neither one of them found Jefferson’s words comical. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, Jay. My wife is not your wife. If Alexis finds out, she’ll leave me. I won’t get the pass that you got when Kyla found out about your affair.”

“Bro, trust. It wasn’t a pass. But we did survive. And I believe you and Alex will too. “He paused and when Brian offered nothing, Jefferson continued. “You’ve got to trust God and your wife, because living the way you’re living ain’t living.”

Brian shook his head. Jefferson wasn’t hearing him. Maybe he wasn’t living well right now, but he had no doubt that he would hardly be living at all if Alexis found out.

“Believe me,” Jefferson stood, “tell your wife. It’s the only way.”

Brian watched his friend walk out the door before he leaned back in his chair. There was no way he was taking Jefferson’s advice. He’d already lived through one divorce, leaving two sons behind. He was not going to give up on this marriage. He planned on keeping his promise that he and Alexis would be together until the day of death. No, he wasn’t telling her a thing. He’d just have to find a way to trudge through this madness alone.

T
HE LIVING ROOM WAS DRENCHED
with the early evening summer sun, but still, Alexis shivered. She clasped her hands together and her ring pinched her finger. Holding her left hand high, her diamond created a rainbow that danced against the walls.

The memories were still fresh, of the night a bit over six years ago when Brian marched into her apartment, after midnight, wearing a tuxedo. While she wore her bathrobe, he got down on bended knee and told her that he would love her completely, openly, honestly. From that moment, she never questioned his love.

Then, about a year and a half ago, the doubts began. Started right when Brian returned home from that trip to New York. The trip that hadn’t made any sense to her when he first announced that he was leaving.

“You’re going to New York tonight?” she’d said with surprise. “But tomorrow is New Year’s Eve.”

“I have to, baby. I’m doing a consultation on a newborn. We’re meeting on New Year’s Day. It may be a holiday, but that doesn’t matter to this family.”

Although she thought it strange, she’d accepted his explanation. He was an ophthalmologist, considered one of the nation’s foremost infant eye surgeons. So, she’d pushed aside the instincts that told her something was up, and focused on the fact that Brian was a specialist. Told herself that all was well, even when she sat in church at midnight and celebrated the incoming 2005 without her husband.

Then he’d returned suddenly on January 1, walking into their penthouse, both of his arms filled with bundles of roses so thick, their number was impossible to count.

“The surgery was canceled,” was his explanation. “And I missed you.”

The next day he appeared at her office and against her protests, whisked her away, first for lunch at her favorite restaurant, Heroes, and then an overnight trip to Santa Barbara.

“I needed to spend some time with you” was his explanation this time.

Then the next night at home, he held her in his arms, and told her that he wanted to renew their wedding vows. She told him just how corny she thought that was, told him that you only needed to make that commitment once.

But he’d insisted. “I just want you to know how much I will always love you.”

It was only because of her resistance that they never had that ceremony, but the memory of those events had kept her wondering. She knew her doubts were ridiculous—her best friend, Kyla Blake, told her so.

“Girl, I cannot believe you’re complaining about this.” Kyla laughed when they’d met at Starbucks and Alexis told her that something wasn’t quite right. “So let me get this straight—Brian brought you flowers, took you on a trip, and wants to renew your wedding vows. Alex, most women would call that hitting the husband jackpot.”

But it was her early home training that played in her head.

“A woman always knows.” She’d overheard her mother’s gossip fests with her friends many times.

Alexis knew.

Now she knew for sure.

The sound of the key turning in the front door lock startled her, and she sat up straight, keeping her eyes on the window.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

She took a courage-building breath before she faced him. But when she did, she had to fight to keep the bile from rising inside. Her eyes shifted from his face to the flowers he carried.

Leaning over, he kissed her cheek. “These are for you. Happy Monday.”

She inhaled the fragrance of his guilt before she took the bouquet from him. Then suddenly, she dropped the bunch into her lap.

“What’s wrong?”

“A thorn.” She picked at the torn skin on her palm, right beneath her ring finger.

“I’m sorry.” He lifted her hand and kissed the spot that had been pricked.

She held her breath, willing herself to ignore the ache that crept into her heart. Willing herself not to care anymore.

He said, “Let me put these in a vase.”

He took two steps away before she asked, “Did you buy the same flowers for your mistress?”

He stopped. Kept his back to her for a moment, then pivoted and faced her.

She was impressed. Didn’t seem as if he’d been shocked by her ambush.

“What are you talking about?” he asked in a what-are-we-having-for-dinner tone.

She stood, squarely faced him. “I’m not going back and forth. I don’t want to hear the details or the denials. I just want you to pack and leave.”

He loosened his tie as if he needed air to speak. “Pack and leave? For what?”

She folded her arms to stop her heart from crashing through her chest. “I told you,” she said as calmly as she could, “I’m not going through all of that. Just pack your…just pack and get out.”

He tossed the flowers onto the dining room table and rose petals scattered at his feet. He looked down, stayed that way, pulling his thoughts together. Finally, “I’m not having an affair, Alexis.”

She sighed; she didn’t have time for this.

He said, “You’ve got to believe me.”

“Why should I believe a liar like you?” She stepped closer. “I’ve been following you.”

“What!”

“I didn’t stutter. I’ve followed you for the last three weeks.”

“I cannot believe you,” he said, his voice rising. “How could you do that? How could you invade my privacy, not trust me—”

She held up her hand. “Oh, no. You will not turn this around, Brian.” She stepped closer, pointed her finger in his face. “
You’re
the one having the affair.
You’re
the low-down-dirty-dog.
You’re
the one who’s leaving this house tonight.”

“I’m not going anywhere; I’m not having an affair!”

She shook her head. “Then I’ll leave.” She moved toward their bedroom.

“Alex, wait.” She stopped, watched his Adam’s apple crawl up his throat. “I’m telling you the truth,” he said quickly. “Really, sweetheart, it’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?”

He paused, searching for words. “I can’t tell you.”

She laughed. He didn’t.

He said, “I can’t tell you. Not right now. I can’t tell you alone.”

Without a word, she pushed past him. He grabbed her. Slowly her eyes moved down to where he grasped her elbow and just as slowly, he dropped her arm.

“Sweetheart, I’m telling the truth,” he said softly. “I’ll explain it to you tomorrow.”

“Explain it to me now.”

“I can’t. I need…help with this.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know, but that’s why I’m asking you to trust me. Just wait for tomorrow and go there with me.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I know you’re not talking about…”

He nodded. “But you’ll see. You’ll understand.”

She crossed her arms and her glower deepened.

“Trust me for one more night. Because I’m telling you, Alex, I’m not having an affair. I love you.”

She hated herself already. Hated herself because it sounded like the truth, because she wanted it to be true.

Her eyes were thin slits as she nodded her agreement to do what he asked.

He released a long breath and wrapped his arms around her. But she wiggled from his embrace, pushed him away. “You’d better explain everything to me tomorrow,” she demanded.

He nodded.

She turned into their bedroom and slammed the door in his face.