Chapter 5
The next day, Ethan still hadn't picked a time for counseling, so I pushed the calendar in front of him.
"If you keep going back on our agreements for them, I'm moving out."
His hand stopped halfway to his coffee.
"Because of what happened yesterday?"
"Because every promise you make me can be canceled by someone else."
He pulled out a chair and sat down.
"I always think you'll understand."
"So I'm the easiest one to let down."
"That's not what I'm doing."
I said nothing. He looked down and rubbed his hands together before finally saying, "But I have been making you give in. Every time."
He took out his phone and tapped his calendar.
"Tuesday afternoon. I'll take time off. Tomorrow, we'll set a move-out date."
I sent him the booking link and watched him fill in his information.
That evening, he came home early with fresh shrimp and my favorite pasta.
I chopped garlic while he stood at the stove, asking how much salt to add.
The first time he'd cooked for me in college, the food had been so salty we'd drained an entire pitcher of water.
"Taste it first this time," I said.
He blew on a spoonful of sauce and held it to my lips.
I tasted it and nodded. He smiled.
Sometime after nine, Vivian knocked on our bedroom door, pressing a hand to her temple.
"My migraine's back. Claire, could you get me some medicine?"
She handed me an empty box and told me to go to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy three blocks away.
"This is the one I always take. Please. I can barely move."
She'd had migraines before. When they got bad, she couldn't even stand having the lights on.
I hadn't forgotten how she'd treated me, but seeing her press a hand to her forehead, I took the box anyway.
I wanted her to respect my life. I didn't want to see her suffer.
Ethan picked up his jacket.
"I'll come with you."
Paige came over from the stairs.
"What about moving out? You said we could talk tonight if you had time. I've been waiting."
I glanced at the jacket in my husband's hand.
"You two talk. The pharmacy's close. I'll walk."
He asked if I wanted to drive.
"Then I'd have to find parking when I got back. I'll only be twenty minutes."
At the door, I turned to remind him, "We'll finish talking when I get back."
"Okay," he said.
After buying the medicine, I headed home the way I'd come.
As I passed the closed laundromat, a man got up from the steps. The smell of alcohol hit me in the face.
"All alone this late?"
I moved around him and tapped Ethan's number.
The man grabbed my sleeve.
"I'm talking to you."
"Let go."
The phone kept ringing.
He yanked me toward the passage beside the building. I grabbed the railing, my nails scraping over rust.
I heard my sleeve rip.
I screamed for help. The call ended on my screen. I hit redial, but my phone was knocked onto the sidewalk.
"Let her go!"
Someone came running.
A flashlight beam hit the man's face. He swore and finally released me.
I crouched to pick up my phone, my hands shaking too badly to tap the screen properly.
The man who'd come to help stood between us and called 911.
"My name's Frank. I'm a retired cop. Stay in the light. I'll wait with you."
I leaned against the storefront window and called Ethan again and again.
Every call rang until it cut off.
When the police arrived, I gave a statement and declined an ambulance. Frank offered to take me to the hospital to get checked out.
"My house is just up ahead." I gripped my torn sleeve. "My husband's home."
He walked me to the front steps and waited until I opened the door.
The living room lights were on.
I called softly for Vivian and Ethan. No answer. Her coat was missing from its hook, and the dish where she usually left her keys was empty.
I walked farther inside, the pharmacy bag brushing against my leg.
Then I heard Ethan's hushed voice.
"Just this once. After this, we put the past behind us."