He zipped it shut.
“I’m afraid you’ve caught me. Another surprise for the wedding,” he said, closing the safe door. “You know me. Always planning something special.”
My throat wobbled in pain. I so badly wanted to believe he was telling the truth, that he was here in an act of love for me, but I knew he wasn’t, and I couldn’t play along with his charade any longer.
“I went through your emails,” I say. “I know everything.”
His left eye twitched briefly. If I hadn’t been studying his face for a reaction, I’m not sure I would have noticed.
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Tippi.”
“I know you’re lying about work. There is no sales position. No record of you ever working for some company in Midtown. And I know what you’ve really been doing on your trips away.” My heart cracked with each allegation, and I had to force myself to keep going. “You’ve been selling Marmee’s jewelry.”
“Tippi, you’ve worked yourself into a frenzy. Listen to what you’re saying.”
“I know about the condo in Florida, too,” I added, before he was able to throw out another lie. “I read through all your emails.”
Oliver smiled, laughed even. “Since when did we start going through each other’s things?”
“After I found out the truth about Danielle.”
He hadn’t expected me to say that. His reaction was less controlled.
“What is that, exactly?”
“She didn’t kill herself,” I say. “She died from an insulin overdose.”
“I never said—”
“You told me Danielle killed herself. You said her mother called and told you the news, but when I spoke with her, she said she hadn’t talked to you in years.”
“When did you speak to Danielle’s mother?”
I ignored his question. Focused on what mattered. I strode closer to him, the marble-top island between us for protection.
“She told me Danielle died from taking too much insulin, even though she’d been self-administering for twenty years. She said you made Danielle’s life miserable.”
“Danielle was a troubled woman,” he said. “I told you all this.”
“But I’m never getting the full story, am I? You say she’s crazy and killed herself. Her mother says that isn’t true. You say you tried working out your marriage, her mother said you took everything from her,” I said. “And she had just started to rebuild before she died.”
Oliver opened his mouth to speak but stopped. He looked down at the bag in his hand as if searching for excuses. I’d bombarded him with a heap of information, and he was at a loss for how to respond.
“I can’t get over the similarities between us, either,” I continued,gliding closer. “We both come from wealthy families. All Danielle had left was her mother. All I have left is Marmee.”
“What can I say?” He grinned, his charm magnetic. “I have a type.”
“And then I find out you’ve been stealing my grandmother’s jewelry. That you’re planning to buy a place in Florida I know nothing about.”
“I told you already. It was supposed to be a surprise—”
“I don’t believe you! Everything is a lie. There is no sales company, no conventions.” Fists clenched at my sides, my body fighting to keep composure. “You married Danielle and started taking her money. Even the fucking car belonged to her! When there was nothing left to take, you got with me. You’re repeating the cycle.”
“That’s ridiculous. Tippi, you know me.”
“The emails aren’t the only thing I found,” I said, reaching into my bag. I pulled out the syringes. “How do you explain this?”
Another twitch of the eye, but he recovered quickly. “When I was married to Danielle, I always kept an emergency kit on me. I still have it.”
