Chapter 4

I didn't answer her. I sat there and quietly took inventory of my own stupidity.

The day the news broke, I collapsed.

Pregnant, hardly eating, and then a phone call telling me the man I was marrying had gone into the water off Montauk.

I woke up hours later and Marnie was holding my hand, telling me it had already been handled. Cremated. Closed casket. She said the crash had left nothing a wife should have to see.

They told me I couldn't attend the service. Too much stress for the baby, they said, and they said it kindly, like a favor.

Every piece of it had been a sign. I walked past all of them.

But in six years, Caspian and I had been the couple other people pointed at.

He remembered how I took my coffee. He flew home from Frankfurt for my birthday and flew out again that same night.

It never once occurred to me that he could lie to me about something this size — not about dying, not to get out of a wedding.

Then Julian, the brother from West Africa, appeared with his wife.

And I still didn't see it.

I blamed my own grief for the way his face made my chest cave in.

It wasn't until I stood outside Marnie's bedroom door and heard the two of them talking that I understood the size of the lie they had built around me.

Zora watched me work through it and smiled, slow and satisfied.

"Women always know each other best," she said. "Yesterday, when you left for your appointment at the hospital, I could tell. You'd already figured it out."

She came further into the room and stood at the foot of the bed.

"I bet you're dying to know why he cheated. Why he'd go this far just to be with me." She laughed. "You want to know what he says about you when you're not in the room?"

My pulse went loud in my ears.

"He says you're boring. That six years turned it into a chore. Same thing, same order, every time." She tilted her head.

"With me he doesn't have to perform. He told me I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him. He meant it."

The heat came up through my chest so fast I couldn't hear anything else.

I hit her.

The slap landed hard across her cheek.

Zora's hand flew to her face, mouth already opening — and then Caspian's voice cracked through the room.

"Elowen! What the hell are you doing?"

Zora's whole face changed. The gloating folded away, and suddenly she was small and hurt and shaking.

"I only came to see how she was doing," she said, voice wobbling. "She's been so sad since the funeral. I said one kind word and she hit me. I know you're grieving, but you can't—"

Caspian was staring at the red print of my hand on her cheek. Then he turned on me.

"She's your sister-in-law!"

I didn't flinch. I lifted my chin and looked straight into his eyes.

"Is she?"

He stopped.

For one second — one — something in his face slipped. It was the first honest expression I'd seen on him in weeks.

Then Zora caught his wrist.

"Take me upstairs," she said. "I don't feel well."

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He looked at her, then at me, and I watched him choose.

He put his arm around her and walked her out.

I sat there long after the door closed. Then my phone lit up on the sheet.

[Rhys: Plane's here.]

I breathed in through my nose and opened the nightstand drawer.

The letter had been written for two nights already.

Caspian would be the one to find it.

I wanted him to hear that I was dead — and then to find this himself.

I wanted him to read it and see exactly how far my love had gone. Far enough to follow him down. Far enough that his lie had cost me more than it ever cost him.

If I couldn't have him back, I would take something better: every quiet moment he ever had.

I wanted that weight on his chest for the rest of his life.

I didn't pack. I took my license, my passport, one debit card, and walked out.

Halfway down the hall, Caspian was coming out of Zora's room.

He stopped when he saw me. His jaw worked.

"Elowen — look, I shouldn't have yelled. I lost my temper." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But you can't put your hands on Zora. That's not—"

I lifted a hand and he ran out of words.

"I'm going out for a walk," I said. "You should stay in with your wife."

I put weight on word.

He didn't hear it. I watched his shoulders drop, relief moving through him like water.

"That's a good idea. Get some air, clear your head." He smiled. "Come back before seven and I'll have the cook make that lemon chicken you like."

I nodded and walked past him.

A taste of your own medicine, Caspian.

You love playing dead so much? Then I hope you enjoy the parting gift I've prepared for you.