Laney returns to the shop after the wedding at Love-Struck. She takes her time unloading the Suburban and resetting her workroom for Monday. With her daughters once again at sleepovers, the only thing waiting for her at home is another argument with Hugh followed by a lonely night in the guest room staring at her four cream-colored walls. She misses Bruce and their late-night phone calls more than she ever imagined possible.
Laney sits down at the worktable with a pen and pad to make notes from the messages left on her shop phone throughout the day. She has plenty of orders to keep her busy next week. Business is thriving and she’s ready to hire an assistant, but it must be the right person. They will be working long hours together. She wants someone she can confide in. Someone who will be a friend.
She locks up and stops in at Delilah’s for prepared meals for their dinner. She chooses a spinach salad with grilled shrimp for herself and meatloaf and mashed potatoes for Hugh. She experiences a flash of annoyance as she imagines Hugh waiting at home for her to fix him dinner. She returns the meatloaf to the shelf. Let him starve. He needs to learn he can’t take her for granted.
Laney has become increasingly bolder with her insults in recent days, which has resulted in a worsening of their arguments. She’s pushing him to the edge, and he’s holding on by a thread. When that thread snaps, he’ll come after her and she’ll be ready. She paid Diana the first month’s rent for the upstairs apartment and brought over some clothes and necessities should she and the girls need to flee from home.
As usual, Hugh is waiting for her at the kitchen table. “Where have you been?” He clinks the ice cubes in his empty glass before refilling it with bourbon.
“I told you. I guess you didn’t listen. I had an afternoon wedding today. When I left the vineyard, I took my supplies back to the shop.” She pours a glass of wine and sits down with her salad, placing her phone screen side up on the table in case one of the girls sends her a text.
Hugh eyes her salad. “Where’s my dinner?”
Laney shrugs. “I didn’t get anything for you. I assumed you’d be eating at the club after golf.”
“I came home right after golf so I could spend time with you. I’m trying to be nice here, Laney. You’re not making it very easy.”
She lowers her gaze as she pours dressing on her salad. “If you wanted to do something nice, you could’ve planned dinner for me. A grilled steak would’ve hit the spot after my long day at work. When’s the last time you cooked on the grill? Oh, wait! I forgot. I’m responsible for grilling. Like I’m responsible for everything else around here.”
“You’re the wife. It’s your job to feed your family.”
“Things have changed. Being a floral designer is now my primary job.” Laney delivers this jab with a smile. She finds it makes him madder.
“I guess I’ll make myself a sandwich.” He leaves the table and strides over to the kitchen, where he places slices of ham and cheese between two pieces of bread. Returning to the table, he says, “The truth is, I don’t enjoy grilling.”
Stabbing a forkful of salad, Laney says, “What do you enjoy besides golf? Certainly not hiking or rafting or cycling like the girls and me.”
Her phone dances on the table with an incoming call. She freezes with her fork in midair when Bruce Wheeler’s name appears on the screen.
Hugh looks from the phone to Laney, his eyes flickering with anger. “Why is he calling you?”
Laney’s blood runs cold. “I have no idea. I haven’t spoken to him in days.”
“You lying bitch. You’re still sleeping with him.” Hugh kicks his chair out of the way as he dives across the table at her. Salad flies in the air and her wine glass crashes to the floor. The impact of his body sends them toppling backward with arms and legs flailing.
When they hit the ground, Laney sees stars. As her head clears, she remembers the handgun in her purse on the counter. She worms her way from beneath his weight, but as she’s clambering to her feet, he yanks her back down, straddling her with her arms pinned against her sides. He punches her face repeatedly with both fists, violent blows to her eyes and cheeks and mouth. She wraps her legs around his torso, and with all the energy she can muster, she wrestles him off of her.
She’s back on her feet and running down the hallway. She senses him on her heels, but she’s afraid to look back. She’s nearing the front door when a heavy object strikes her in the back of the head. Her knees weaken, and she collapses to the floor.
When she regains consciousness, Hugh is pressing something to the back of her head with one hand and helping her sit up with the other.
“Get up, Laney. Dad had a medical emergency. I’m not sober enough to drive. You need to take me to the hospital.”
The pain is unbearable, and she can’t think straight. What happened to her head? Then she remembers the fight. She shoves him off of her. “Give me a minute.”
“Here.” Hugh takes her hand and presses it against the cloth on her head. “Hold this against your wound. You’re bleeding all over the rug.”
She grips a console table as she pulls herself to her feet. She has no business driving in this condition, but the hospital is the safest place for her. Fortunately, it’s only a couple of miles away.
Laney leans against the wall for support as she makes her way to the kitchen.
“What’re you doing?” Hugh asks. “We need to go.”
“I’m getting my purse. I can’t drive without my license.”
“I’ll get it for you,” he says, brushing past her down the hallway.
She calls after him. “No! Wait!” She can’t let him feel the weight of the gun in her bag. “I need a minute to compose myself.”
“Whatever.” He retraces his steps down the hall. “I’ll wait for you in the car. But hurry. Dad needs me.”
Laney makes her way past the overturned furniture and broken glass to the kitchen. She hides the handgun behind boxes of baking supplies in an upper cabinet, replaces the bloody cloth on her head with a clean one, and recovers her phone from the debris on the floor. Despite having a cracked screen, the phone still appears to work.
She’s exiting the house when she notices her heavy antique brass candlestick on the floor near where she fell. Beside the candlestick is a pool of blood. She glimpses her reflection in the mirror over the console table. She’s a character from a zombie apocalypse movie with swollen eyes, a busted lip, and hair caked with blood.
On the way to the hospital, Laney drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other the cloth on her head. “How did you find out about your father?”
“Sheldon called.”
Laney doesn’t remember Sheldon calling. How long was she unconscious?
“Well? What did he say?”
“Only that Bruce found Dad unconscious when he went to The Nest to share a sample of a new varietal.”
“So that’s why Bruce was calling me,” Laney says in a matter-of-fact tone.
They ride the rest of the way in silence. When they arrive at the hospital, she parks the car and turns off the engine.
“We’ll tell everyone you fell down the stairs.” Hugh’s tone is conspiratorial, as though he expects her to go along with him.
Laney doesn’t argue. She has every intention of telling the truth.
Bruce and Sheldon are waiting near the entrance to the crowded emergency room.
Anger burns in Bruce’s eyes when he sees Laney’s face. “Did he do this to you?”
“Yes,” Laney says, her voice almost a whisper.
Bruce goes after Hugh with fists flying. Sheldon attempts to break them up while Laney summons a security guard for help.
The security guard grabs the men by the collars, holding them at arm’s length to separate them. “What’s the matter with you two? This is a hospital. There are people suffering here.”
“Look what this man, her husband, did to her face.” Bruce squirms to free himself, but the guard easily holds him in place.
The guard studies Laney’s face. “Whoa. You need medical attention.”
Laney locks eyes with her husband. “I want to file a report with the police first.”
“We’ll get to that.” The guard looks back and forth between Bruce and Hugh. “I’m gonna turn you two loose. Anymore funny stuff, and you’re going to jail.”
Freed from the guard’s grip, Bruce rushes to Laney’s side. “You’re deathly pale. Are you gonna pass out?”
“Maybe. I feel lightheaded,” she says and collapses against him.
An orderly with a wheelchair appears. As he’s wheeling her off, Laney’s eyes meet Hugh’s and he sags in resignation. At long last, he realizes our marriage is over.
Laney welcomes Bruce’s presence in the treatment room. He knows all the right questions to ask the nurse about her head wound. Does Laney have a concussion? Will the doctor use stitches or staples to close the wound? Will they give her a CT scan to determine if her skull is fractured?
After the nurse inserts an IV, another nurse whisks her away again for the scan. When she returns to her treatment room, Bruce is speaking with a young female police officer who is waiting to take her statement. Laney describes her troubled marriage and the events that took place earlier tonight at their home.
“Can you prove your husband did this to you?” Officer Sims asks.
Bruce lets out an irritated huff. “Isn’t her word enough?”
“Evidence would seal the deal,” Sims says.
“My house is a crime scene.” Laney’s eyes dart around the room. “Where’s my purse? I’ll give you the keys, and you can see for yourself.”
Bruce retrieves her purse from the locker at the foot of the bed.
Laney digs through her bag for her keys and hands them to Sims. “The kitchen is a war zone, and on the floor near the front door, you’ll find the candlestick my husband used to clobber me over the head.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be back in a while.” The officer departs the treatment room, leaving Laney and Bruce alone for the first time.
“I need to text my divorce attorney,” Laney says, her thumbs flying across the cracked phone screen. Her message reads: I’m at the hospital. I now have evidence of physical abuse. I’d like to file for divorce right away.
When Laney looks up from her phone, Bruce is watching her with a tender expression. She smiles softly at him. “I would love nothing more than for you to hold me right now, but now is not the right time for us to come out of the closet about our relationship. I want to be sensitive to the Love family. They are going through a lot.”
Bruce moves to the edge of his chair. “I agree wholeheartedly. Does that mean we can’t be friends?”
“We can be friends. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too. And I’m not going anywhere. I promise not to pressure you. We’ll decide together if and when the time is right.”
Laney reaches for his hand. “You know how I feel about you, Bruce. It’s not if. It will definitely be when. Tell me what happened to Daniel. Is he pretending again, or did he really have a medical emergency?”
“Appears to be the real deal. Daniel and I made a date to sample the red blend I’ve been working on. When I arrived at The Nest, I found him lying unresponsive on the ground in the driveway. I called the rescue squad. The paramedics are pretty sure he suffered a massive stroke.”