NINE DAYS AGO
My husband was going to kill me if I didn’t get around to it first. Even if I did take my own life, I’d need to make sure it didn’t look like a suicide. Life insurance policies didn’t pay out for suicide. By tomorrow I would be front-page news on the Monroeville Times Express: ‘Husband Murders Wife Over $40,000 Credit Card Debt.’ Even if Grant didn’t kill me, he’d divorce me. I couldn’t let him find out, not until I figured out a way to pay it off.
Folding the paper credit card statement back into thirds, I tucked it into the envelope, ripped it in half, and tossed it in the garbage, shoving it under a slimy chicken foam tray for good measure. Eliminate the evidence, then deal with the debt. I had no idea how, and I wish I’d considered that sooner – particularly before a twenty-one-percent interest rate hit. Why not enjoy it now when you can pay for it later? That had become my mantra in my quest to live uninhibited, and it was catching up with me. I’d lived in an organized, efficient box for so long. I had wanted out, I had wanted freedom, I had wanted to be like Lily. And now all I wanted was to return to my safe, square box.
Debt was a persistent stalker.
In the living room Grant’s cell phone silently buzzed against an antique oak end table. I often wondered why he kept it on silent, what he was hiding, but I never asked. He was the perfect spouse – reliable provider, adoring father, attentive husband. I had no reason to be suspicious of his vibrating phone or calls taken out on the back porch. But a wife couldn’t help but wonder. After all, I had my own secrets, so maybe he had his.
A moment later the vibration stopped and his deep voice rumbled throughout the first floor. I was hiding a mountain of debt; Grant was hiding his calls. I guess we all had our hidden skeletons. Though mine seemed to be piling up lately.
As I shut the garbage can lid, Grant strode into the kitchen, pecking me on the cheek. ‘Babe, I’m heading out now.’
‘Out? Now? It’s almost eight o’clock at night and raining pretty bad. Plus, it’s Friday. I thought we were going to spend the evening together?’ I hoped the disappointment tinting the question would guilt him into staying home. We were long overdue for a night together. Cold sheets had created a rift between us that only hot sex could bridge; certainly he felt it too.
‘Sorry, I forgot it was poker night with the guys. You know I can’t miss it or I’ll never hear the end of it. We’ll do something tomorrow.’
I groaned. ‘Grant, you were out of town for that medical conference thing all last week, and this week you’ve been working late every night. I need some time with you. I miss you.’
‘I miss you too, but we’ve got a flu outbreak, honey. I can’t help it that my schedule’s crazy right now. Patients need me; I can’t turn sick kids away.’
‘I’m not asking you to skip work. I’m asking you to skip poker night.’
‘Robin, I can’t. I’ve already missed the last couple times. Can’t you wait up for me? I won’t be home late.’
‘You know things never work out when we try to plan time together. For once Willow and Ryan are both at friends’ houses tonight, Lucas is in bed, and I finally got Collette nursed, diaper changed, and she’s settled down. We’ve got at least a couple hours of uninterrupted time together.’ I grabbed his hand and kissed his fingers.
His sigh was weighty as he released my hand. ‘Honey, as tempting as that sounds …’
‘I’ll do anything you want tonight – anything.’ My words were laced with desire as I unbuttoned his top button, then another, tickling his chest with my fingertip. I could be persistent when I wanted to. ‘I know what you like …’
I brushed my lips against the patch of exposed skin, then licked it and smiled up at him.
‘Please. It’s been so long, Grant.’ Too long. Months long. We needed this. Our marriage needed it.
‘You’re killing me,’ he said, pulling me in for a kiss.
‘Is that a yes?’ I said between panting breaths and urgent fondling.
His hands gripped me hard, almost too hard as if I’d flitter away. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had more than a passing peck on the cheek. His crazy work schedule, four demanding children, a nursing infant – it had taken a toll on our love life and right now, more than anything, I wanted to make up for it.
My core ached for my husband, and as his hands slid up my back, lifting my shirt with his warm palms, I knew he wanted me too. I remembered the last time we’d made love: a rare night of passion that ended abruptly when Lucas wandered into our bedroom, scared that Mommy was being attacked by a monster. That monster was Daddy.
Unbuckling Grant’s belt, I pulled him toward the bedroom with my hand gripping his open waistband. I could feel his swelling erection against my probing fingertips. As he tore my shirt up and over my head, his lips searching my neck, my pulse jumping under his tongue, I felt the rush of adolescent newness, the rush of passion, the rush of … Collette’s cries.
Everything came to an abrupt stop. Collette’s whimper echoed from the baby monitor.
‘Oh, come on!’ I grumbled into Grant’s chest.
‘Well, that ends that. As usual.’
He was pissed, and I couldn’t blame him. Hell, I needed it just as much as he did.
‘Please don’t leave. She’ll go back to sleep,’ I assured him. But he was already rebuttoning his shirt. I was losing him – and not just tonight. The distance between us was growing into a wide chasm.
‘Honey, we both know you’re going to spend the next hour soothing her. Then another hour getting her back to sleep. By then I’ll be home. Let’s take a rain check.’
‘I don’t want a rain check. I want tonight – with you.’
Collette’s shrieks on the monitor intensified. He gestured at the frantically blinking red light.
‘Robin, her majesty is summoning you. I’ll see you later.’
I grabbed his wrist, forced him to look me in the eye.
‘Grant, is our marriage dying?’ It was too big a question as my husband was running out the door, but I needed to know. His mouth opened, closed, opened in a tentative sequence. I waited for him to crack the safe and say what I needed to hear.
‘Of course not. I promise you, we’re okay. How about this: Ryan can watch the others and we’ll go out tomorrow. How’s a nice dinner at the Wooden Nickel Restaurant sound? I’ll order pizza from Della Sala’s for the kids; you know how they love those square slices.’ He sealed the evening’s fate with a step away from me. ‘In fact, treat yourself to a new dress. Oh, which reminds me, you need to call the credit card company. Something’s wrong – they declined a charge I tried to make, which shouldn’t be possible. Can you look into it?’
A chill prickled my skin. ‘Sure, I’ll sort it out.’
‘I love you, babe, but I gotta run.’ He tossed the words behind him as he closed the front door, leaving me stunned in his brisk wake. My husband the pediatrician didn’t even offer to look in on his own child. Unreal.
On my way to deal with Collette, I popped in the bathroom to grab a migraine pill. The headaches had grown more frequent as Collette’s colic kept me up all hours of the night. There, on the vanity, was the teal mug Willow had made me when she was six years old, a third full of cold coffee that I’d been missing since this morning. I felt just as empty inside as that cup.
If only Grant knew I had already bought myself a new dress for tonight – a whole wardrobe, in fact, the last time he ditched me for the guys – maybe he’d have thought twice about leaving.