Three years ago, that’s all I wanted, but it’s not true now. It was a hollow victory. And even if he’d never gone back to Ava, it wouldn’t have lasted. I know that.
I’d give anything to erase every moment with Glenn. Why can’t I just be ordinary, reliable Lizzie? All this happened before I even knew Andrew. It’s not like I cheated on him, but I still have to tell him something. The news can’t be the only version of my story he hears.
“Lizzie?” Emma is standing in the doorway, her face sticky and pink. Maybe Andrew will put this off. We can’t fight in front of Emma.
He says, “Go wash up, sweetie. You’re covered in doughnut.” I can hear the strain in his voice, how it’s pitched higher than usual.
I turn to follow Emma, but he says, “You stay here. Just shut the bathroom door. Emma doesn’t need your help.”
I freeze, stricken. That’s how easy it would be. One word from him and I’d be out of Emma’s life forever.
As she turns the water on, he asks, “Did you arrange to meet him yesterday?” All the lightness I saw in his face last night is gone. His mouth is a tense line, his eyes are narrowed.
“No! I just saw him at the police station. We were all there.” My insides are liquid with fear and my words are coming out with too much force.
“This picture wasn’t taken at the police station.” He holds up his phone like an accusation, and I see the same picture there, Glenn and me. We’re on the internet, on the news blogs and social media sites. The whole world knows what a monster I am, how Glenn and I are clearly having an affair and plotted together to murder a beloved author.
And Andrew believes it too.
Unless I can change his mind. “He was worried about Ava, and—”
“And you were what … comforting him?” Andrew raises an eyebrow, and his mouth twists in disgust.
If Andrew really thinks I am involved with Glenn, if he doesn’t trust me to be faithful, what can I do? There’s no way for me to crawl back from this. My face is hot, burning. “No, that’s not what happened. I went to Ava’s house—”
“To meet him?”
“No, I broke in!”
“You … what?” His mouth opens in shock.
“I broke in, okay? I lied to you about who I was to get away from Ava, and I broke in to find her. I thought she’d done it to herself. You don’t know my sister. She’s—”
“You lied and lied and lied.” Andrew stands, his hands balled into fists by his sides.
“Not about you!” My voice is way too loud. Distantly I realize the water isn’t running in the bathroom anymore. I love him, totally and completely, but he doesn’t see it. “I love you. I’ve been a good wife, a good mother.”
He turns his back on me, shaking his head. But it’s true. I cleaned the house and fed them home-cooked meals and was perfect. I did everything right for two whole years. And now it counts for nothing?
The bathroom door swings open, and Emma stands there, her face and hands dripping, her eyes bewildered. She’s never heard us argue. “You’re yelling,” she says, like she can’t believe it.
Andrew turns to face us like he’s facing a firing squad. He never knew Zoe, always angry and mouthy and spoiling for a fight. I was always so damn grateful for his love that I never disagreed with anything he said. He can’t just throw that away.
I sink to my knees beside Emma and pull her close to me. She still smells like sugar. “Daddy doesn’t know how much I love you,” I say loud enough for Andrew to hear. “I love you and Daddy more than the moon and stars.”
This is a familiar game, and she pulls back to look me in the eyes. “I love you and Daddy more than the sun and sky.”
Then she turns her trusting face to Andrew.
He closes his eyes as if he can’t even look at us. Good. He needs to feel it, the full weight of our family. “This isn’t fair, Zoe.”
“Don’t call me that.” I kiss Emma’s head. “My name is Lizzie.”
On some level, Emma must know she’s being used, because she pulls away from me and runs to Andrew, leaving me kneeling by myself. “Say it, Daddy. Say it.”
He bends and scoops her up, whispering into her hair, “I love you more than yesterday, today, and tomorrow.”
Not “you and Mommy.” Not even “you and Lizzie.” He’s left me out, and the omission is a knife in my heart. It takes all my strength to stand up. I love him, totally and completely. And it feels like I’ve lost him.
“Let’s go home,” I say quickly. “We’ll just leave. The police will find Ava; nobody needs me here. We’ll go home and everything will be—”
“No.” Andrew’s voice is soft but firm. He sets Emma down, but he doesn’t walk over to me. “No. I need some time to think.”
I hesitate, looking at Emma nestled close against him. I can’t tell him everything, but I can’t seem like I’m holding anything back. “I don’t even know him now. It was three years ago. Three years. Back then you were married—” I break off. I don’t want to bring up Andrew’s first wife, the one who died when Emma was born. I’ve kept all her china, her furniture and linens, because I was so grateful I got to keep her family. But I knew I didn’t deserve them.
“I know.” A shadow crosses Andrew’s face. Is he thinking about what my mother said, about how I found him when he was grieving? Emma swings around his legs like an orbiting planet.
“Let me come home, please.” That last word is a whispered plea. I can’t cry, not here in front of Emma; I can’t lose myself in this panic and grief.
Andrew hates causing pain. Even if he’s angry at me, even if he doesn’t love me anymore, he doesn’t want to hurt me. But I almost wish he would. If he shouted at me, really lost his temper, I would forgive him. But he’s so controlled, almost like he hates me.
He shoos Emma toward the bed and flips the channel to a cartoon. Then he’s finally standing right in front of me, his eyes searching my face. “You can’t lie to me anymore. Not now. Not ever.”
Hope rushes through me, and I try to temper the desperation in my voice. “I won’t, I swear. And I didn’t do this. I didn’t do anything to Ava. Once we get home …”
But he shakes his head once. No. “I’ll take Emma home, but you stay here. You can go back to your parents’ house or I’ll extend the hotel reservation. At least until the investigation is over.” He pauses, then takes a deep breath. “I need that time to think things over.”
His words are a shot to my gut. I can’t process the impact; I just feel it sucking all the air from my lungs. Time to think. Think about a time before he knew me, a life after me. I gasp, unable to speak. I’m drowning.
My hands reach out for him, but he’s already turning away. He pulls the suitcase onto the bed beside Emma. Slowly he scoops up her discarded pajamas from the floor, folding and tucking them into place.
Then the hotel phone rings.
Andrew picks it up cautiously. “Yes? Yes, this is he.”
I reach for my bag, but my fingers refuse to grasp the strap. My body is not my own. If I can get away, I can think of a way to make him love me again. But every cell of my body yearns to stay.