Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
We walked in, and Jaxon didn’t even ask for his mother before he made his way to the shower. I sat down in the family room with the lights off and started doing my research on Evelyn now that I knew her full name.
I opened up Safari, and I googled her name.
The biography of her taking over for her father at the firm comes up right away, and I quickly go and search my emails for an email that I got two weeks ago from Tim’s firm.
There it was, in black and white, her name and cell phone number.
I closed the email when I heard the sound of footsteps coming up from downstairs. “Thanks for coming over to scratch the itch.” I heard Murielle tell her trainer. “You always know just the right part to scratch.”
“If you caught an itch,” I said as I got up, both of their heads swinging around as they looked at me, “then I suggest you go get that checked out.” I headed to the stairs and walked upstairs to tuck in Jaxon.
As soon as he went to bed, I walked out of the house, closing the door behind me.
I pull up to her house and see the porch lights on and the black BMW parked in the driveway. I park behind her, and I don’t even know what the fuck I’m going to tell her, but I have to see her. I have to at least tell her something. She deserves that; to be honest, she deserves better than that. She deserves better than me. My phone rings, and my heart speeds up, thinking it’s Evelyn telling me not to bother coming. But instead, I see it’s Murielle.
“What?” I say, answering the phone.
“Where are you?” she asks, and I just shake my head.
“Is Jaxon okay?” I ask, and she huffs out.
“Okay, then bye.” I can hear sheets rustling, and I don’t bother saying anything else to her before I hang up. She calls me back again, and I know if I don’t answer her, she is just going to call me over and over again. “What is it, Murielle?”
“Don’t what is it, Murielle me. I’m your wife,” she says, and I laugh. “I have a right to know where you are.”
“I have a right not to have your trainer fuck you in our home, too. I have a right to ask you for a divorce. We can’t all get what we want,” I say. “Now if Jaxon is fine and sleeping, we have nothing else to say.”
“Are you fucking around on me?” she shrieks, and I laugh.
“I’m not that lucky,” I say and hang up on her. When she calls back, I send it to voice mail. I wait to see if she calls again, but instead, she just sends a text.
Murielle: We need to talk.
I walk to the front door and ring the bell. I look down at the concrete walkway and then look up when I hear her unlocking the door. The door opens slowly, and I see her. She is wearing a sweater that hangs down to her knees and tights. Her red hair is piled on top of her head, and I can see she has been crying. The tip of her nose is red, and her eyes are swollen. It is a kick in the balls.
So many things are going through my mind, so many things I want to say, but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is her name. “Evelyn,” I whisper, the pain in my chest a bit more than I can bear.
“You have five minutes,” she says, and I know that I have to give her that.
“Do you want to do this out here or . . .?” I look around, asking her, and she opens the door to let me in. I walk in, and I can feel the hominess of her house. I look at the table with the black purse she was holding tonight. On it is a vase of roses, and I wonder if she got them herself. I wonder if she likes roses and what her favorite flower is.
“Thank you.” I look at her and wish I could kiss her. I put my hands in my pockets or else I’ll grab her, and then she will likely kick me in the balls and kick me out. And I want every minute that she will give me.
“I figured it would be better to keep it quiet,” she says, stepping away from me and crossing her arms over her chest. “Out of sight.”
“Before I say anything,” I say, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”
As she laughs, I watch her, and something clicks into place, but I don’t know what to do about it. This whole week has thrown my world off.