Page 157 of The Bad Husband

As much as I try not to look at him, I fail and turn my eyes to him.

Regret floods his eyes.

I know that look.

I’ve seen it before when my father decided to propose to Henrietta.

He has his elbows propped on his knees, which only fuels my angst. He’s not the bearer of good news.

“Things have been all over the place lately,” he says with dark humor.

My apprehension soars.

“What brought you here, Damon?” I ask, convinced he’s getting back with Henrietta, or he’s divorcing her a year from now and planning to marry someone else.

My insecurities link hands into a little ritualistic dance in my head as I wait for his answer.

He sighs.

“I’ll, um…go away for a while,” he murmurs, pained to even speak.

He shifts his eyes to me, a sorrowful expression on his face.

“I thought I could ask you to wait for me. I thought things would get back to normal. Unfortunately, that’s not gonna happen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m going to jail.”

My mouth falls open.

“Why? I thought you were cleared of that triple murder.”

“It’s something else,” he says, moving his stare back down. “It has to do with Henrietta.”

My hands are cold and clammy. I slide my hands into my pockets, waiting for him to continue.

Eventually, he looks at me.

“She’s worked with the feds for a while now to have me locked away.”

“What?”

My voice is quiet like a whisper.

He nods a couple of times, noticing the shift in my expression.

I feel like crying.

“As it turned out, I’d underestimated her. Her jealousy ran deeper than I thought it would.”

“Are you sure about that? She was nice to me over the summer.”

He flicks his eyes to me again.

“She had no reason not to be. She hit me where it mattered the most. Her entire plan was to pull me away from you and snitch on me. She got immunity. I took a plea deal. I need to serve time, though.”

Tears prickle my eyes.