Chapter 2
By Friday morning, I had twenty-four hours left.
Celeste arrived shortly after sunrise with two large suitcases.
I stood in the guest-room doorway while Adrian arranged them beside the dresser, smoothed the duvet, and replaced the white roses with blue hydrangeas.
"She hates white roses," he explained as he turned up the thermostat. "And she gets cold easily."
I folded my arms so he wouldn't see my hands shake. He remembered exactly how Celeste liked a room she had never slept in.
I'd once believed that kind of care belonged to me.
An hour later, Adrian poured his coffee and slid a piece of peanut-butter toast onto my plate. I stared at it without moving.
He had once held my hand through an entire night in the emergency room after a severe allergic reaction.
Celeste paused with her coffee mug halfway to her mouth. "Didn't you tell me she was allergic to peanuts?"
Her casual question hurt more than his mistake. Celeste remembered the dangerous detail my own husband had forgotten.
Adrian pulled the plate away. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."
Before I could answer, Celeste rubbed her bare arms. "The guest room still feels freezing."
Adrian dropped his napkin and followed her upstairs to check the vents.
His apology to me lasted three words. Celeste's discomfort took him away from the table.
He had an important client meeting that afternoon. My hands followed old habits while my mind stayed on Saturday.
I ironed his white shirt, selected his gray silk tie, and slipped the folder he'd forgotten into his briefcase.
He usually skipped lunch before client meetings and complained about his stomach by three, so I packed him a turkey sandwich.
Adrian leaned down and kissed my forehead. "What would I do without you?"
My eyes burned. I stepped out of his reach and picked up his empty coffee cup.
"I need to put this in the dishwasher."
When I returned to the hallway, Celeste was wearing the tailored blue coat Adrian had given me. She hadn't asked permission to take it from the closet.
He'd told me he chose it because the color matched my eyes.
Celeste held up her phone. In the photograph, a younger Adrian stood beside her while she wore an almost identical blue coat.
"This is what I wore when Adrian and I were dating," she said, smiling. "He always loved this color on me."
Adrian came down the stairs and stopped on the bottom step. His face softened, then lit with a warmth I had never seen directed at me.
Matilda arrived soon afterward and wrapped Celeste in a long embrace, greeting her like a daughter coming home.
She kept one arm around Celeste as they entered the living room.
"If Celeste hadn't left, Adrian wouldn't have had to settle for a divorced woman," Matilda said with a smile.
I looked at Adrian, holding on to the last piece of hope I had left.
He frowned at his mother. "Mother, enough. Celeste just got back. Don't ruin today."
His gaze remained on Celeste as he spoke. I turned away before any of them could see my face.
Adrian escorted Matilda and Celeste onto the garden patio. As soon as the door closed behind them, I emptied my lockbox.
I packed my identification, jewelry, several dresses, and the few personal things I couldn't replace.
I placed the anniversary necklace on top of the jewelry and closed the box.
Ben pulled up near the back entrance in a gray sedan. He stayed beside the car while I carried out three taped boxes.
He loaded them into the trunk. "Is Saturday at ten still the plan?"
"Yes. Thank you for doing this."
Ben nodded and drove away.
Ten minutes later, my attorney confirmed that the divorce papers would be ready for me to sign on Saturday.
That evening, Adrian opened my closet to hang up his jacket and stopped. Half the wooden hangers were bare.
"Where are your clothes?"
"I'm putting away the things I won't need this season."
His eyes moved from the empty hangers to my bare neck.
For a few seconds, I thought he might ask why the necklace was gone.
He closed the closet instead. "Could you prepare a nice welcome dinner for Celeste tomorrow evening?"
Whatever hope I'd carried into the morning ended there. He had seen the empty space and still thought only of what Celeste needed.
"Yes," I said. "I can do that."
Adrian went into the bathroom to shower. I took our wedding photograph from the bedside table and placed it face down inside the bottom drawer.
Then I sent Ben one final message. "Tomorrow at ten. Don't come to the door."