she hadn’t come back. She’d lied to him, been lying all along. For weeks. Months, even. Stealing from the Feldmans, the cell phone, taking money from his wallet. Scheming and plotting and he’d had no idea at all and now another man was sharing her bed. Running his fingers through her hair, listening to her moans, feeling her hands on him. Kevin bit his lip and tasted blood, hating her, wanting to kick and punch her, wanting to throw her down the stairs. He took another sip from the bottle next to him, rinsing the metallic taste from his mouth.
She’d fooled him because she was beautiful. Everything about her was pretty. Her breasts, her lips, even the small of her back. At the casino, in Atlantic City, when he’d first met her, he’d thought she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, and in their four years of marriage, nothing had changed. She knew he desired her, and she used it to her advantage. Dressing sexy. Getting her hair done. Wearing lacy underwear. It made him lower his guard, made him think she loved him.
But she didn’t love him. She didn’t even care about him. She didn’t care about the broken flowerpots and smashed-up china, didn’t care that he’d been suspended from his job, didn’t care that he’d cried himself to sleep for months. Didn’t care that his life was falling apart. All that mattered was what she wanted, but she’d always been selfish and now she was laughing at him. Laughing for months and thinking only about herself. He loved her and hated her and he couldn’t make sense of it. He felt tears beginning to form and he blinked them back.
Delaware. Maryland. The outskirts of Washington DC. Virginia. Hours lost to the never-ending night. Raining hard at first, then gradually the rain dissipated. He stopped near Richmond at dawn and ate breakfast. Two eggs, four pieces of bacon, wheat toast. He drank three cups of coffee. He put more gas in the car and went back to the interstate. He crossed into North Carolina under blue skies. Bugs were cemented against the windshield and his back had begun to ache. He had to wear sunglasses to keep from squinting and his whiskers had begun to itch.
I’m coming, Erin, he thought. I’ll be there soon.
33
Katie awoke exhausted. She had tossed and turned for hours during the night, replaying the horrible things she’d said to Alex. She didn’t know what had come over her. Yes, she was upset about the Feldmans, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember how the argument had started in the first place. Or rather, she did remember, but it didn’t make sense. She’d known he hadn’t been pressuring her or trying to force her to do anything she wasn’t ready for. She knew he wasn’t remotely like Kevin, but what had she said to him?
What are you going to do? Hit me? Go ahead.
Why would she have said something like that?
She eventually dozed off sometime after two a.m., when the wind and rain were beginning to taper off. By dawn, the sky was clear and birdsong was drifting from the trees. From the porch, she noticed the effects of the storm: broken branches strewn out front, a carpet of pinecones littered across the yard and drive. The air was already thick with humidity. It was going to be a scorcher, maybe the hottest day of the summer yet. She made a note to herself to remind Alex not to keep the kids out in the sun too long before she realized that he might not want her with them. That maybe he was still mad at her.
Not maybe, she corrected herself. He was almost certainly mad at her. And hurt as well. He hadn’t even let the kids say good-bye last night.
She took a seat on the steps and turned toward Jo’s, wondering if she was up and about. It was early, probably too early to knock on her door. She didn’t know what she would say to her or what good it would do. She wouldn’t tell her what she’d said to Alex—that was a memory she’d rather erase in its entirety—but maybe Jo could help her understand the anxiety she’d been feeling. Even after Alex left, she noted the tension in her shoulders, and last night, for the first time in weeks, she’d wanted the light on.
Her intuition told her that something was wrong but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was,