Tryst (2 page)

Talie

I went to the closest bank and transferred all the money out of our joint accounts and into my personal savings.

Okay, not all of our money.

I left him a dollar.

I thought that was very generous.

After I put some cash in
my wallet, I drove across town to a gated neighborhood. If it wasn’t for the permanent pass I carried, I knew the guard would never let me behind the gate. The car I drove didn’t belong in a neighborhood like this. It was a clunker.

We always planned to buy me a new one. We were saving up because Blake bought a BMW right before we got married and we didn’t want to take on another payment so early in our marriage.

He was a complete douche.

My sister opened the door to her three thousand
-square-foot house in the burbs, looking like she just stepped off a runway in Paris.

Yep, she was one of
those
women.

The kind of woman who never had a hair out of place. The kind who woke up in the morning looking like some kind of divine angel, with perfectly tousled hair and glowing skin. She always dressed perfectly, even if it wa
s lounge clothes. Her long, dark hair was always curled, always shining, and her face was always perfectly made up.

She was a true southern bell
e.

I looked like the
Hunchback of Notre Dame next to her.

“Talie!” she said, her voice breathless (it was always breathless). “I wasn’t expecting you! Did we have a lunch date I forgot about?”

I wanted to laugh. She never forgot any date she made. “Sorry to just show up, Joanna. Is now a bad time?”

“No, come in,” she said, holding the door wide so I could step into her entryway with cherry hardwood floors and soaring ceilings. “I just finished up my work for the day.”

My sister worked from home as an accountant. She only worked part time because she had two young children, and really, they didn’t need the money. I always just thought her decision to keep a few clients even after she had children was more because she liked telling people she was an accountant.

“Where are the twins?” I asked, looking around for Ainsley and Avery. They were two-year
-old twin girls, the spitting image of their mother.

“
Tiffany took them to the pool.”

Tiffany was the girls
’ nanny and the pool was part of the amenities that came with the neighborhood.

“Would you like something to drink?” Joanna asked as I followed her through the house and stepped into the large, open kitchen. It had cream
-colored custom cabinetry, a glass-tiled backsplash, and quartz countertops.

“No thanks,” I said
. What I really wanted was an entire bottle of wine. And a straw.

Joanna opened up the massive
stainless-steel fridge and pulled out a glass pitcher filled with water. Floating in the water were thick slices of red apple and many cinnamon sticks. She drank that water concoction every day and claimed it helped keep her figure so trim.

I secretly wondered if she ever ate.

Yeah. That was bitter. In my own defense, I just caught my loser soon-to-be ex-husband in bed with a woman who spent time under the knife to look like Barbie.

I sighed and watched Joanna pour herself a glass of the water. I shouldn’t have come here so soon. I knew better. On a good day
, I only found my sister and all her perfect glory mildly annoying. On a bad day, I wondered what the hell I did to deserve the leftovers from my parent’s gene pool. On a day like today…

On a day like today
, I found myself thinking I should have just forgot to put my junker of a car in park and then got out to let it “accidentally” run me over.

Of course, I would never actually do something like that.

That was just hella dramatic.

Well, that and the fact that I would be the one person who would get r
un over by her scrap metal on wheels and survive… only to live with the mangled mess of my body.

“So what brings you by?” Joanna asked, perching on the edge of her upholstered chairs at the round glass table nearby.

“I need Jack’s help.”

Jack was Joanna’s husband. He was a successful lawyer here in Raleigh and had his eyes set on
a partnership at one of the biggest firms in town. I had no doubt he would get it. If he wasn’t my brother-in-law, I wouldn’t be able to afford thirty minutes of his time.

Good thing for family discounts.

Joanna’s delicately shaped brows rose. “Whatever do you need a lawyer for?”

“I’m filing for divorce.” The words were practically a grenade that dropped into the center of the room and obliterated the calm, quiet atmosphere that was my sister’s kitchen.

She gasped and put a hand to her chest. “A divorce!” she said like it was some foreign term. “Why in the world would you be doing that?”

“I caught Blake in bed this afternoon. In my bed. With his secretary.”

Joanna thought for a moment. “There has to be a reasonable explanation, Talie.”

“They were naked. She was on top of him.”

Her lips formed a little O.

“He’s cheating on me. Probably has been for a long time.”

“Now, you don’t know that for sure. Perhaps it was a one-time thing. A mistake.”

Sometimes a woman didn’t have to know something to
know
it.

And I
knew
Blake had sex with lopsided boob Barbie more than once.

“Oh
, it was a mistake all right,” I muttered. “A mistake that I married him.”

“Talie!” Joanna admonished. Her tone set my back teeth on edge.
She set her apple cinnamon water aside and stood, placing her pink-manicured fingers on her hips. “Blake is a good man. He’s very successful; he’s good looking, comes from a strong family with roots deep in the southern soil. He’s quite the catch.”

And this is why I knew better than to come here. “Are you actually defending the fact he was sleeping with another woman. In my bed?”

She blanched like the image left a distasteful flavor in her mouth. “What I’m saying is you took vows. You can’t throw away a good marriage so rashly.”

Good marriage. Rash. Vows.

Suddenly I felt extremely sick to my stomach.

I stood up, ignoring the dizziness that swept through my foggy brain. “What time will Jack be home tonight?”

“Probably about seven.”

“Can you please ask him to draw up the divorce papers? Tell him I’ll come by later this week to sign them all and set things in motion.”

“Where are you going?”

“To Claire’s place. I’m staying there.” At least
, I prayed she would let me when I flung myself on the couch and begged to stay.

“You need to go home. Work things out
—”

I cut her off. “I can’t talk about this right now.”

“Yes. Well, I’m sure you’ve had a trying day.”

Yes. Trying.

I was
trying
to understand how the hell this happened. How could I have been so wrong about the man I married? I was also
trying
not to be pissed off my sister was kind of taking his side.

“Why don’t you stay? We can have tea and talk this over calmly.”

Calmly = Joanna telling me what to do.

“Thanks for the offer, sis,” I said, already heading toward the front door. “But I can’t, not right now. You’ll call Jack and ask him to bring the papers?”

“Of course, but are you sure you don’t want to think about it?”

I couldn’t
not
think about it. “I’m sure.”

Joanna’s face was drawn into a frown, creating a crease between her perfectly arched bro
ws. I sighed, reached out, and hugged her. She returned the embrace, and I felt tears prick the back of my eyes. I pulled away, opening the door.

“Thanks, Jo-Jo,” I said, using the name I called her when we were kids.

I didn’t look back when the door closed behind me, but I did let out a long breath. I loved my sister, but sometimes I wanted to strangle her.

Of course, it was just my luck that when I turned the key in my
ancient VW Jetta that the engine sounded like an old man about to cough up his lung. I smacked the steering wheel and let out a frustrated cry. “Today is not the day for this,” I demanded of my car. “Work, dammit!

I turned the key again and this time the engine sputtered to life. I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel for a few moments, allowing myself seconds of self
-pity before driving out of the ritzy neighborhood and toward my therapist’s office.

The parking lot was packed when I got there, but I managed to snag the last spot around back. I guess I wasn’t the only one in need of therapy today. The scent of fried dough waft
ed through the afternoon breeze, beckoning me closer and offering thousands of calories in comfort.

I didn’t have to worry about calories anymore. Since no one was going to be seeing me in my panties
, I could eat as many donuts as I wanted and not feel an ounce of guilt.

A woman holding a giant cup of iced coffee held the door as I stepped inside and stood at the end of the line.

My therapist = Dunkin Donuts.

What? Donuts make everyone feel better.

Inside the donut shop was a companion counter for Baskin Robbins. Donuts
and
ice cream? I couldn’t possibly.

Oh
, wait. Yes. Yes, I could.

I grabbed a round
, white ice cream cake—that said “Congratulations!” on the top in pink icing—out of the freezer and stepped back in line. At the counter, I ordered a dozen donuts and one of those giant coffee rolls. And because my anxiety and stress meter was off the charts, I ordered a large brown sugar latte.

Coffee had the opposite effect on me tha
n it seemed to have on others. It didn’t make me jittery or keyed up. Coffee actually calmed me down.

Once all the
sugar, carbs, and caffeine were piled in my arms, I climbed back in my car and checked my cell phone. It was still fairly early in the day, and I wasn’t sure Claire would be home yet, so I dialed her number.

“Hey, girl
,” she chimed after two rings.

“Are you still at work?”

“Unfortunately,” she intoned, sounding bored. Working as a manager at a large retail store must not be very entertaining. “Aren’t you supposed to be too?”

“I left early.”

“Lucky.”

“So I’m gonna need somewhere to stay.” Damn my suddenly wobbly voice.

There was a meaningful pause on the other end of the line. “You know where I keep the spare key.”

I nodded and then told myself I was in idiot because she couldn’t see me.

“Want me to get some donuts?” she asked.

“I already got some. I got an ice cream cake too.”

“That bad, huh?” she said. She knew me so well.

“That bad.” I confirmed.

“I feel an extreme headache coming on,” she began. “Damn these headaches of mine. I’m going to have to leave early today.” Her voice was heavily laced with
regret
.

I smiled.

“I’ll see ya in a few,” she said, and I could already hear papers on her desk being shoveled around.

“Thanks, Claire.”

“Don’t eat it all before I get there.”

After I s
et down the phone, I glared at the dashboard. “I’m not in the mood for your hormonal activity today,” I told the car. It must have known I meant business because it started on the first try.

I pulled out of the lot and took a good
, long sip of the coffee and sighed.

Tal
ie

Was it possible to have a junk food hangover?

Was it possible my therapist wasn’t quite as helpful as it should be?

Yes
, and yes.

Sunlight streamed between the edges of the white blinds in the living room, creating stripes of brightness across the floor and furniture. I cracked one eye open and took in my surroundings. It took a moment to place where I was.

Waking up somewhere other than my own bed, in my own home, was a little jarring. But, it wasn’t like I was at a bar, got drunk, and went home with some guy whose name I didn’t even know. The red sofa, purple patterned armchair, and array of colored pillows all over the place were very familiar.

I pushed up
into a sitting position and leaned against the red fabric while I pushed a hand through my tangled, fine hair. Plastic forks and spoons littered the coffee table. The empty white cake box was dotted with crumbs from the crushed cookie layer that was in the center of the ice cream cake.

We ate the entire thing.

And just like that, everything that happened the day before came rushing over me.

Turns out feeling like a giant fatty whose blood sugar levels were likely going to put her in a coma wasn’t as bad
as reliving the moment you caught your husband being ridden by some bimbo in the center of your Pottery Barn sheets.

I spent all night drowning my sorrows in ice cream, donuts
, and, by the looks of the empty cans on the table, soda. The inside of my mouth was coated with some sort of thick, sticky substance, and I made a face. It was probably congealed sugar…

I stood
, ignoring the headache behind my eyes and the feeling I had a truckload of sand behind my lids. I bent sluggishly to lift my duffle bag off the floor and then shut myself in the bathroom, turning the shower as hot as it would go.

After peeling off the clothes I wore yes
terday and then slept in, I dumped them into the nearby trash can. They were dirty. Dirty in the way no washing machine or bleach would clean. They would forever be the clothes in which I discovered the truth about my husband. If I ever wore them again, I would remember the exact sound of
them
moaning from the bedroom. I would remember that sudden drop of my belly when I walked into the bedroom and saw them…

I couldn’t ever wear those clothes again.

The scalding spray of the water made me grimace as heat stung my skin. I didn’t bother adjusting the temperature. My skin felt dirty too. I didn’t know how long Blake had been sleeping around, but considering the fact we hadn’t been intimate in six months, I knew it had to be at least that long. Maybe it was longer.

Maybe he
’d never been faithful at all.

I shuddered. The thought of him putting himself inside me
and
someone else made me sick. I picked up the white bar of soap and began to scrub myself. I didn’t stop until my skin felt raw and sore. Once I was done, I turned my attention to my hair. Even wet, it was a tangled mess. It was long, probably too long for its fine texture. But Joanna said long hair was more feminine. Joanna said men liked women with long, shining hair.

Blake always said he liked it when I wore my hair down around my shoulders.

Blake was a big liar.

After I worked out all the knots with shampoo and extra conditioner
, I stood there under the spray, just watching the water circle around the drain before disappearing.

What now?

What did a twenty-four-year-old woman do when she learned her husband wasn’t who she thought he was?

Joanna wanted me to stay with him
. She made that perfectly clear yesterday. Claire thought I should make him miserable before taking him for everything he was worth.

That seemed like wasting a lot of energy on someone who really didn’t deserve any more of my time. I always thought being married was
the ultimate goal in life. To have someone who would always love you, who would always be there. To build a family and a home around that love.

It seemed like I spent most of my teenage years daydreaming about how perfect life would be once I met that one man meant for me.

How naïve I was.

Not anymore. No, now my naivety was washing down the drain with my discarded shower water. The water turned cool and I shut off the valves and quickly dried off before wrapping the soft fabric around myself. I pulled out my light tangle
-free leave-in conditioner, my wide-tooth comb, and my volumizing mouse. After I applied all the product and combed my locks, I felt utterly exhausted and weighed down. I didn’t want to face having to blow it dry, so I twisted it up on my head in a sleek topknot.

My eyes were slightly puffy from crying last night
, so I pulled out a little wand of cooling eye serum and applied it to the bags that so graciously added themselves to my face. As I applied some moisturizer to the rest of my skin, I let out a deep sigh. The thought of going into work today literally made me want to jab myself in the eye with a pencil.

But I was going to go.

I wasn’t going to hide at Claire’s like I was ashamed. Like I’d done something wrong. This wasn’t my fault. Yeah, maybe I wasn’t the easiest to live with. And yeah, maybe I wasn’t the sexiest or prettiest girl around.

But I didn’t deserve to be cheated on.

After dressing in a pair of black linen pants and a black-and-white striped blouse, I left the bathroom in a cloud of steam, and the scent of richly roasted coffee wafted down the hallway toward me.

Claire was in the kitchen, dressed in an oversized
T-shirt and black leggings. Her short red hair was tousled from sleep, but since she wore it like that on a daily basis, it already looked perfect.

“You roll out of bed practically ready for work,” I grumped, helping myself to a huge
-ass mug of joe. I didn’t bother adding my usual creamer. Maybe if I drank it black, the strong brew would burn up some of the sugar still floating in my system.

“Well
, aren’t you Suzie Sunshine this morning,” she quipped and eyed me. “How are you?”

Some of the coffee I just slurped dribbled down my chin
, and I used the back of my free hand to wipe it away. “Peachy.”

“You should take the day off. Hell, the rest of the week. Give yourself a break. It’s not every day a woman finds her man
—” She blanched and stopped speaking.

“I’m going to work
, and he’s not my man anymore.”

“You’re really going to do it?” she asked, helping herself to some coffee.

I told her about going to see Jack. I told her I was filing for divorce. She warned me not to make a rash decision that I might regret later. She told me I should take some time and really think about what I wanted.

The thing was, cheating was cheating. Today, tomorrow… five years from now
, that wasn’t going to change.

“I’m going to see Jack later today to get things in motion.”

She nodded. “I figured as much. You know I support you, right?”

The short sentence made something in my chest tighten. “I know you do,” I said, my voice softening. It was good to know that no matter what
, Claire would always be in my corner.

The muffled ringing of my cell phone floated into the kitchen, interrupting our coffee and wallowing. I carried the half
-empty mug into the living room where my bag was lying on the floor and reached in to pull out my phone. The screen flashed HOME across it as it rang.

A splinter of pain pierced my chest. That wasn’t my home anymore.

I hit the IGNORE button and turned away. Claire lifted her eyebrow in silent inquiry as I returned to the kitchen. “Him?” she asked.

“Yep,” I replied, drinking more coffee.

“He isn’t going to just let you go,” she said, voicing the exact thoughts that were occupying the back of my mind.

“He doesn’t have a choice.” I drained the rest of the coffee and placed the mug in the sink
. Then I went to finish getting ready for work.

It was going to be a very long day.