Page 16 of The Bad Husband

Soon after, he slides through the open gate, which quickly moves back into place, and I stare into darkness.

Wow.

Who knew my summer break would start like this?

I wish I could call Keira and tell her about my new experience with this man, but then I remember his words and decide to sit on it a little.

See where things are headed.

Strange couple. Strange place. Although stunning in every other aspect.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I glance around the foyer. The place is spotless, decorated in great taste.

If I didn’t know who lived here, I could swear this place belonged to a lovely family.

It has a nice feminine touch, although every fiber in my body screams that it’s not the woman of the house, but the decorator he had hired.

Henrietta has always had an air of impermanence about her.

She’s always reminded me of someone reluctant to set roots down, commit to something, and give her all.

It was one of the first things I didn’t like about her.

That air of overzealous confidence tinged with a dash of hypocrisy.

I could never buy her stories, her professed sentiments for my father, and how hard she had had it in the past.

She behaved like a guest in her own home, and that was my first clue.

She always had an eye on what might happen next, giving off vibes of a mystified ghostly traveler through other people’s lives.

That’s how I saw her, and nothing could change my opinion of her.

I never thought my father would depart first, and for sure, I couldn’t envision that she and I would be forced to spend some time together after his death, but life is strange like that sometimes.

What seems even weirder is that she’s not here now. She knew I’d arrive on Sunday. Her own husband doesn’t seem to know or care where she is.

This is another level of strange stuff.

I wait in front of the house a little longer, sipping water and wanting to make sure that no one else is in the house or comes back, before I step down, walk around the place, and inch closer to the pool.

“What a life,” I murmur to myself, setting my water down and walking barefoot by the pool.

The lights look like bonbons spilled out of a Halloween basket at the bottom of the pool. A mix of vibrant colors. Quivering lights.

The breeze unsettles the flowers, sending their potent aroma to my nose.

“This is lovely,” I say to myself again before swinging my eyes to the house.

There’s no one there.

I can see the first and second floors clearly. I can even see inside my room.

At the other end of the second floor, a large bedroom with dim lights is noticeable through the French doors leading to the terrace.

That must be his. Or theirs. The thought of them together makes me shudder, and it has nothing to do with meeting him.

I just don’t like the entire story and suspect unsavory things concealed in it.