talked to her yet, if I knew how she was holding up. He loves a damsel in distress.”
“Well, I guess we know one thing for sure.” Lora’s poking around the perfume bottles and makeup on my vanity. “You’re the luckiest woman on the block. If you figure out a way to clone your husband, let me know. I’d like to order four copies.”
Laughing, I shove the sheet between the mattress and the headboard, and my fingers catch something hard.
A ring.
“Whoa,” Lora says with a gasp as I hold it up to the light. “Only thing I find when I make my bed is a dryer sheet.”
It’s not just any ring. It’s a platinum Tacori. The princess-cut three-stone beauty is at least six carats, with a crown of diamonds intensifying the center diamond.
“I’ve never seen that one before.” Lora sets a perfume bottle down and comes closer. “That’s gorgeous. Why haven’t you been wearing it?”
“It’s not—” Heart drumming, I twist the ring in my fingers so the diamonds catch the morning rays. “It’s not mine.”
“Then whose?”
I know instantly, without doubt. It’s one of a kind. This flawless bauble has been flaunted in my face, waved around at cocktail parties, its outrageous price tag bragged about more times than I could count.
“Joanna’s.”
“Figures she’d have a ring like that, but what’s it doing in your—” Lora stops. Covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh no…Rach, you don’t think…”
I can’t speak. Not a word. Her ring is in my house. In my bed.
If it was in our living room, anywhere downstairs, I could explain it away. I’d concoct excuses in my head about how she must’ve lost it when they came over for dinner last Friday. But last night in particular, when I came home around two A.M., I swore I picked up the scent of Joanna’s perfume in our room. Joy. It’s an unmistakable scent, and one she’s worn since I’ve known her. When I mentioned it, Travis had brushed me off, telling me how ridiculous I was being. He’d never break our rules and cheat on me with a friend. I’d believed him. Not an hour later, Joanna raced over, claiming Michael had beaten her.
My skin crawls with a memory of the company anniversary party in February. Travis and Joanna disappeared for the better part of an hour. He’d said they were out smoking, and even though they’d returned to the party, cheeks flushed, unable to take their eyes off each other, I’d believed him then, too. He’d said it was biting cold outside—that was the reason her cheeks were pink. His hair looked as though he’d tried to style it in a rush with his fingers.
That was nothing but an inkling, hunch, possible female intuition rationalized down to stupid jealous thoughts.
But this—this—is concrete proof in the form of diamonds and platinum.
“I’m sure—they couldn’t,” Lora whispers. “Travis wouldn’t…He loves you. You guys are the perfect couple.”
I’m gripping the ring, scraping my nails along its grooves as anger flares up inside me. He can’t explain this away—I’d like to see him try. Lora’s eyes are full of pity. When her hand touches my back, I flinch.
“Rachael,” she says, “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe they would do this to you.”
The pity in her voice makes me want to vomit.
I refuse to be this woman—the one my friends whisper about when they get together for brunch. The one they feel sorry for. Poor Rachael couldn’t keep her husband happy. Poor Rachael, did you hear he slept with her best friend while she was partying in the city? Poor stupid, ugly Rachael who can’t do anything right. I hear the voice I’ve had ringing in my head since childhood telling me I’m not good enough. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be good enough…and now everyone’s going to know it.
“Lora.” My voice is shaking with rage. “What time is it?”