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“Whatever. That’s not important,” Anne said on a sigh. “Tonight is about you. Your company is throwing a launch party for Marguerite Hill! How awesome is that? I have her book in my van.”
“The first one? I gave that to you ages ago. Have you finished it yet?”
“I’ve made good progress,” Anne hedged. “The kids have been sick for the last few weeks.”
“And the weeks before that?”
“I’m working on it!” Anne grinned across the phone line. “It’s not my fault. If you’d made it mandatory reading for a book club or something, maybe I would have finished it on time. You know I need deadlines, or I’ll procrastinate forever.”
“A book club.” Eliza sounded genuinely intrigued. “Not a bad idea actually. Anyway, I’ll see you tonight. I know you’ll make the right choice.”
The door opened downstairs, and Anne sighed yet again. “Speak of the devil, I’ve got to go. Time to feed the vultures.”
“We’re having catered appetizers tonight.” Eliza needled Anne with a tantalizing lilt to her voice. “Bacon-wrapped scallops for starters. There will be a nice bubbly champagne, chilled of course, and an ice wine tasting. And don’t forget the best part of all…”
“I’m already drooling. Don’t torture me.”
“You don’t have to cook, wash, or clean a single dish.”
“I think I just had an orgasm.”
“See you soon.”
Eliza hung up first, leaving Anne to stare at the silent phone. She blinked, considering the invitation while stifling the longing rising with it. Did she want to go? The answer was an easy, resounding yes. Should she go? That answer was a bit murkier. She had kids to feed, a husband to look after, a house to clean…
Anne sighed, returning to fiddle with her dresser some more. She was determined to fix it so the damn drawers didn’t squeak. For some reason, the state of the vanity had become an obsession for her in recent weeks. What had been a minor inconvenience for more than a decade had suddenly become a major headache. She couldn’t stop fixating on the stupid thing.
Wiping sweating palms on yoga pants that hadn’t seen the inside of a washer in far too long, Anne set to work. She’d been picking away at this project for days, but the Wilkes household had been more chaotic than normal as of late.
Harry had picked up a nasty bug at daycare that had been transferred from one child to the next until the rotation was complete. Anne had been up to her elbows in sick children for weeks, so much so that she’d barely had time to think about Mark.
And when she did finally focus on her husband, he pretended everything was hunky-dory. The last time they’d gone out to dinner while Penny watched the children, they’d skipped all four courses and had spent the night making out in the van and ordering McDonald’s drive-thru sundaes. Was it any wonder Anne was baffled?
It was only when she stopped to think that she found herself in trouble. Anne still hadn’t decided what to do with the information she’d gleaned from the private investigator. It seemed too crass and trashy to confront Mark head-on with it. But she couldn’t go on ignoring the fact that he was lying to her. And on the path to trading her in for a busty little coed.
“Damn it!” Anne raised one leg and propped her foot against the dresser as she yanked against the stuck top drawer. “Stupid piece of junk! Let go—”
Anne yelped as the drawer squeaked loose with a grating cry of wood on wood. She flew back, plopping harshly on her tailbone as the contents of the drawer flew everywhere. Underwear landed on the floor, and the small tub of makeup she kept stashed out of sight from her children clattered away, tubes of lipstick and mascara rolling under the bed.
Mark found her like that. Sitting on the floor, a comatose mess, staring blankly at the rubble scattered around their bedroom. The drawer hung open, leaning precariously from its perch like a wiggly tooth not quite ready to fall out. Anne didn’t notice any of it.
She didn’t move the first time Mark called her name, nor did she move the second. The third time, she twitched to attention. Without responding, she rose to her feet, wincing as her heel came to land on a set of tweezers that would no doubt be bent out of shape. The only nice pair she had left, gone for good.
She blinked and instructed herself not to cry. It worked, but only just.
“What are you doing here, honey?” Mark asked, the original smile on his face melting away as he caught sight of the look on Anne’s. “Is everything okay? Are you… Should I call the doctor?”
“Stop it! Just fucking stop it!” Anne swiveled to face him. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Anne, please.”
“I’m telling you everything is fine,” Anne insisted. “Just peachy.”
“Did I do something?” Mark raised his hands in surrender. “Is it the kids? Long day?”
“Long day?” Anne raised one of her eyebrows, her voice taking on a high-pitched whine that rivaled the screech of the broken drawer. “Try a long couple of weeks. Are you aware it’s been a game of whack-a-mole around here? One kid pukes, and I clean it up. Before I throw out the trash, the next turns around and gets sick all over everything. It’s been weeks, Mark!”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry so much of the burden around here has fallen on your shoulders lately. But they’ve all been through it now, and we’re on the tail end of the bug—”
