mind if she thinks I’m going to let her tie me up.
“I’m fine right where I am.”
She lifts the gun and flashes a smile that sends a chill down my spine. “You’re fine when I say you’re fine. Now move,” she orders.
I stare at her, reluctant to do as she says. I swear, if she didn’t have that gun, I’d show her exactly what I thought of her and that smart mouth. I hesitantly turn toward the far side of the room and move to the corner. She follows closely behind as I scan the space in front of me, looking for an escape, or at least a way to get to my phone and dial 911.
“Sit down,” she says when I come to a stop in front of the chair.
“Look, I understand you’re angry… and hurt, but holding me here isn’t going to solve anything. Before things get too far out of hand, why don’t you step back and let me walk away.”
She pokes the gun into my back. “I said, sit down.”
Slowly, I spin around to face her and continue my plea.
“I’ll disappear, and you and Gil can get back to whatever it was you had before I came into the picture. Doesn’t that sound better than—”
“Better than what? Than blowing your brains out?”
I glance at the revolver and then back at her. “Think about it. I’ll be out of the picture. I was the problem, right? Everything was fine before I came along.”
“So you do admit it was you my husband was texting?”
“Yes. We both know it was me, but if I’m no longer an issue, the two of you can get back to the happy marriage you brag about on Instagram. Isn’t that what you want?”
“Shut up and sit down,” she yells, her hand trembling as she shoves the gun in my face. “I won’t repeat it again.”
I take a few paces back and then sit in the chair.
She steps to the side and uses the gun to point at the items on the table. “Grab the rope and tie it around your ankles.”
“I’m not doing that.”
A flash of anger crosses her face. “You damn well will do it,” she says, her voice raised. “Or I’ll splatter your brains all over that fucking wall.”
I don’t know how far she’s planning to take this, so I do the only thing that makes sense. I grab two pieces of rope and bend over to tie my ankles, all the while looking for an opportunity—for some way to get out of this mess. “Now what?” I ask when I’ve secured both ankles to the legs of the chair.
She steps to the table and snags the longer piece of rope and then moves behind me. “Place your hands on the back of the chair.”
I think about what I could do with my hands while they’re still free—reach for the gun, grab her by the throat, push her to the floor. Each of those maneuvers could result in a gunshot. I settle into the hope that Gil will be here soon, and I tell myself it’s best to play along until he arrives. I resign to becoming her prisoner as she ties my hands behind my back and tapes my mouth shut.
Maricel walks around to the front of the chair and stares down at me.
“Do you have any idea how it feels to see the man you love pull away from you more and more with every passing day? Or to see messages on his phone to a woman that he says he loves more than he loves you. To read the words that he has never felt for any woman the way he feels for you? Do you have any idea what goes through a woman’s head when she sees shit like that? Do you?”
Sensing she expects some type of response, I shake my head.
“There’s one particular message that literally makes me sick to my stomach. Gil sent it to you on October 29th.
If you and I were married, I would never look for anyone outside my marriage. I think we are the missing parts to each other. Thank you for coming into my life and for making my days brighter and happier. I really meant it when I said I wish I’d met you years ago, before meeting my wife. I truly wish that we’d belonged to each other back then. We would be tremendously happier than we are in our current situations.