I head to the door and find it locked. No surprise: Jade must be asleep. I hunt around for my keys, cursing when I finally find them at the bottom of my bag. I had six hours on the flight to get them ready—why didn’t I? Because I was too anxious about seeing Jade.
My heart squeezes when the door opens, the scent of home hitting me immediately.
It’s dark, so I flick on some lights and gaze around our home.
Everything looks like it usually does, I guess, but itfeelsdifferent. I drop my bag on the floor and grab a glass of water, gulping it down before facing the stairs.
I can’t tell Jade about the kiss.
She knows I slept in Mila’s room—I just need to make sure she knows that’s all that happened.
Fuck!
I crack my neck on either side before taking a deep breath, climbing the stairs like I have a million times. It’s dark upstairs too, and Jade isn’t a heavy sleeper. She must’ve heard me come in.
I poke my head into the darkened bedroom, waiting for my eyes to adjust.
“Jade?”
Slowly the bed comes into focus, but it’s empty.
What the fuck?
“Jade?!” I flick on the light, and my fears are confirmed—the bed is empty.
No sign of my wife.
She’s not here.
My heart races as I stride to the spare room, but that’s empty too.
“Jade!” I yell, checking every room and finding nothing.
I feel like my throat is closing, making breathing virtually impossible. I pull the drapes back and scan the street like she’ll miraculously appear.
She’s fucking left me. Nah, she wouldn’t.
Would she?
This situation is a fucking shit show.
I back away from the windows until my legs hit the bed, and I fall onto it.
Jade has gone.
I’ll call her. Fuck what time it is.
But the call goes directly to voicemail, almost like she knew I’d call her, and she didn’t want to hear from me.
“Fuck!” I throw my phone onto the bed and drop my head into my hands, my temples throbbing. She asked me to come home—and I did—but she’s gone, anyway.
Gonewhere?
My eyelids are scratchy and sore, but I still force myself to check the screen on my phone.
Where are you, Jade?
Forcing myself to think rationally, I realize she’s probably at Katrina’s place. Katrina is her best friend, and it’s more likely for her to go to her than to her parent’s house. I shift uncomfortably at the thought of her telling her parents I’d spent the night in another woman’s hotel room.
