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8
Alexis
“Mom, I can’t find my costume,” Lizzy calls down the passage.
“Which one, honey?”
“The butterfly one.”
I should have guessed. “It’s on the second shelf. Remember to take your blue one also.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Lizzy is practically buzzing. She’s so excited to spend the whole weekend by the ocean that I hadn’t even had to nag to get her to pack some clothes. I’ll have to check what she’s laid out on her bed because I know neither her underwear nor a toothbrush would make it into her bag. Instead, it would be filled with swimwear, her butterfly dress, and coloring books.
For now, I’m frantically packing my clothes. I want to be on the road as soon as possible. When I got to the boutique a couple of hours earlier, I called the rental agency, and they assured me an early check-in time would be fine.
I texted Lilian and asked if she was free to start her shift earlier. She demanded to know why, but I managed to evade all her questions, telling her I’d talk to her later. I can’t talk to anyone right now, least of all Lucas.
He’s been calling and texting me nonstop all morning, but I’ve been ignoring it. I’m scared he’ll come by the boutique, so instead, I’m running away. I know it, but I also don’t give a fuck. I’m in this weird state of numbness, and as irrational as it sounds, it feels as if I could just get some space between me and whatever is going on, I can make better sense of it all. I didn’t see a name on that text, but I know, I know it’s from a woman. A woman that calls my husband baby. A woman that calls him Luc. I don’t know which is worse. I’ve never, not once in all the time I’ve known him, heard someone call him that. Here and there, somebody’s tried, but he’d cut that off so fast and so brutally that person would never try again. So whoever she is, she must be someone I don’t know but who’s important to my husband. I freeze when the doorbell rings but then curse at my stupidity. Lucas lives here; he’d never ring his own doorbell. Lillian would just walk in, and Mom would go to the boutique, thinking I was there if she wanted to see me. I hurry to open the door, determined to get rid of whoever is there as quickly as possible but then stop in annoyance when I see Monica standing there. I don’t see this woman for months, and then twice in one week?
“Monica, hi.” I’m a bit breathless, the urge to get the hell away riding me hard.
“Alexis, I was wondering if you’ve got a moment to talk?”
“Now is not really a good time. I’m on my way out.” I’m curt, but I don’t have time for her right now. I’m doing a mental checklist of everything I still need to pack, my attention not really focused on her.
Her lips flatten into a tight line. “It will only be a couple of minutes. I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say. It’s about Luc.”
Her words bring me up short, dread filling me. It’s no longer a faceless text, and I don’t like what I see. She’s younger. Blonde. Voluptuous. Everything I’m not. She must see something on my face because a satisfied smile lifts the corner of her lips.
“I can see you might already have an idea of what I’m about to say.”
Woodenly, I stand aside, and she brushes past me.
“Right here will be fine.” I grind out, stopping her when she walks toward the kitchen. I don’t want this woman in my house or anywhere near Lizzy. If it wasn’t for nosy neighbors, I’d let her say what she’s so obviously burning to say on my front porch and get it over with.
“All right.”
Crossing my arms, I take her in, waiting for her blood-red lips to open and further destroy my world.
“I’ve been going backward and forwards on whether I should do this for a while but decided that if I were you, I’d want to know.” Fake sympathy paints her face as if she’s concerned for me. If she were so fucking concerned, she would have stayed away from my husband.
“Know what exactly?”
“Luke and I have been seeing each other since the block party.” And there it is, the knowing finally being put into words. The sympathy is gone, and everything about her—the tilt of her chin, the defiance blazing in her eyes—screams that she’s here to throw the gauntlet down, ready to fight for a man that doesn’t belong to her. What she doesn’t know is that if what she’s saying is true she can have him. No matter how much I love him, I’ll give him to her.
“I don’t believe you.” My tone is calm, and she seems taken aback. What was she expecting, that I’d scream at her, throw her out of the house? I might not fight her, but her words are not enough. If what she’s saying is true, I need proof.
“I know this is hard to hear, but it’s true,” she says. Her smile is condescending, and I curl my fingers into fists. “It’s serious between us, and things have gotten quite a bit more...complicated.”
Ice fills my veins as my eyes track the movement of her hand. It comes to rest on her stomach, and a tiny crack opens up in my composure. I take a deep breath and tighten my shoulders.
“Prove it.” My words are barely more than a hiss, and she takes a step back.
“I didn’t bring the pregnancy test with me,” she sputters. “But our first appointment is next week. Luke is beside himself with excitement.” The next crack is the size of the Grand Canyon, and I’m freefalling, the tightrope I was balancing on just gone. It takes a bit, but I pull the jagged edges of my composure together, only the trembling of my hands betraying me.
“You misunderstand me. I’m not interested in your doctors’ appointments. Prove to me that you’re fucking my husband.”
