And she’s been doing that a lot more in the past few days.
In a perfect world, she’d be like that all the time, but reality is far from perfect. Something is off, and I need to figure out what it is.
I watched on the security camera when she found the highchair and playpen I bought for Ruby. She even found the bag of clothes and toys, and I waited for a confrontation. I longed for it so I could convince her that Ruby needs us, and that it’s not about Devin, but she never said a word.
She acted like she didn’t know. Moments after finding the hidden items, she found me in my office. She walked behind my chair, hugged me from behind, kissed my cheek, and told me to sit in the kitchen with her while she made us dinner. Like a fool, I followed, and while she cooked, I did some final edits on her personal statement for fashion school.
Another thing that’s put me off is that she still hasn’t said a word about Ruby spending the night two weeks ago. At that time, I was relieved not to have that fight in front of the baby, so I accepted it. I’ve been ready for her to confront me about it for weeks, and it hasn’t happened.
My phone beeps, pulling me out of my thoughts. My eyes bug out when I see the alert on my phone about a six-figure payment to a mortgage company.
“Did she buy a house behind my back?” The words are uttered into my empty office. Does she think she’s going to move out? I’ll burn that fucking house to the ground and not think twice about it.
I don’t care what little game she’s playing or what money she spends, but she’s not moving out of this house.
This expense is the biggest, but it’s not the first. For the past week, she’s moved large sums of money from my account to her business account, but a house? I look through my contacts and dial Sam Armstrong, the local lawyer I use, who happens to know everything that goes on in this town.
“Sam,” I say, irritated that it took three rings for him to answer my call. “My wife just made a six-figure payment to a mortgage lender. Find out what the fuck’s that’s about.” I give him the lender's name and all the information I have. After putting me on hold, he returns to the phone.
“She paid off her cousin’s mortgage,” Sam’s rough voice says. “I knew the lender sounded familiar. You’re an investor, remember?”
“What?” I scratch my head, unsure of what the hell he’s talking about.
“You invested in the company that built the community of townhouses off Cider Road.” He lets out a laugh. “You’re getting some of that money back from the sale. Don’t you and your wife talk about these things?”
“Don’t question me about my wife.” I end the call and toss the phone on the couch. While I decide on what to do about this latest development, my phone buzzes again.
“Hunt.” I rub my hands over my face.
“It’s Steel, and we need to talk. In person.” This man is nothing if not direct.
“About what? I’m not taking on any additional business other than what we agreed to.”
“You’ll take on what the fuck I need you to take on.” The asshole dares to scoff.
“Take your orders and shove them up your ass. You need me, motherfucker, not the other way around. Remember that.”
“You sound testy. You got wife problems already? I was disappointed not to get an invitation, but I hope you got my gift.”
I sigh. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the convenience store. Two o’clock.” The asshole ends the call before I can utter a word.
I text King and Preacher to meet me at one tomorrow, and just as my finger hovers over Cori’s contact, the alarm App beeps. I open it to see my wife walking up the front steps. I get to the door and swing it open for her. She gasps when she sees me, then she smiles. I could forgive her for anything just with that smile.
I take her shopping bags from her and put them on the table before I pull her into my arms and kiss her.
“Sweetheart, do you have something you want to tell me?” Those big, brown lying eyes find mine, and she does her best to appear confused. I can tell she knows what I’m talking about. The woman has a lot going for her, but a good poker face isn't one of them.
She gives me her back and rummages through the fridge for a bottle of white wine. She pours a glass for each of us.
“What do you mean?” Her voice is much too high. I take her hand and put two fingers to her wrist and check her pulse. It’s rapid. Her nostrils flare, and she inhales, pushing her perfect breasts forward.
“Did you spend hundreds of thousands of dollars today, Bella?” She picks up her glass and sips it. “Did you buy a house?”
She puts her glass to my lips and offers me a sip.
“For Selene.” She walks back to the fridge as if buying a house for her cousin is normal.
