Page 43 of The Husband I Left

Lacking anything else to do, I sit down on the couch and wait.

It’s very quiet. The penthouse is always quiet. I used to like that once. Now I’m aware of every little sound in a way I never have been before. But as the minutes pass and nothing happens, I begin to think the worst might be over.

Then the ice maker drops a fresh batch of cubes into its bin with a sudden rattling crash, and I come halfway off the couch.

Leo lowers his phone and looks at me.

“Oliver,” Leo says.

“What.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

The elevator dings. I jump again.

It’s the laces.

Leo accepts the delivery and hands it to me without comment, although the expression on his face says plenty. I lace up my oxfords and stand up and check myself in the hall mirror: suit, shirt, tie, shoes with laces. Going to have to be good enough.

We take the elevator down to the garage. I catch myself checking the corners of the elevator, as if something might be taped to the ceiling. I catch myself scanning the concrete pillars as we walk toward my parking spot. Leo, half a step behind me, says nothing.

I check the back seat before I get in. I make Leo wait while I do it. He doesn’t even mock me; he just leans against the fender with his arms folded and waits, which tells me I’m not the only one who’s a little bit afraid of my wife right now.

The back seat is clear. Nothing under the car that I can see. I straighten up and feel my shoulders relax.

“See? Nothing to worry about,” I say, more to myself than to Leo as I slide into the driver’s seat. He gets in on the passenger side, buckling his seatbelt.

“She got her licks in and now—”

I turn the key in the ignition and immediately regret it. There’s a soft whooshing sound, and suddenly the air vents erupt, spewing a cloud of pink and blue glitter directly into our faces. It’s everywhere; in my hair, my eyes, coating the dashboard, settling on every surface.

I shut off the engine immediately, but the damage is done. Leo and I stare at each other in stunned silence. His dark hair is dusted with sparkles, making him look as if he just stepped out of some bizarre fairy tale.

After a long moment, he brushes ineffectually at his suit jacket, sending a small shower of glitter onto the leather seat. “One does wonder,” he says thoughtfully, “how she managed to pull all this off.”

I would also like the answer to that question. But mostly I want to know what else she has in store for me. And if I will survive it.

* * *

I’ve been running through it the entire drive. What I’ll say. How I’ll say it. I’m reasonably certain I can get Genny’s parents to listen. After all, Will is a fair man. And Alice is one of the kindest women I’ve ever met. They love their daughter, and they want her to be happy. I only need five minutes to explain that I want the same thing. I only need them to open the door,

But now that I’m actually here, looking at the tidy suburban home where Genny grew up, success suddenly feels less certain.

“Well,” Leo says, looking over at me. “Go on. Go do your persuading.”

“Just hold on, I’m thinking.”

“Thinking about how this is a terrible idea?”

“Thinking about how I’m going to explain everything,” I grit out, shooting Leo a dark glare.

“Which part are you planning to explain? The part where you married their daughter to annoy your father, or the part where you pretended to cheat on her to annoy your ex?”

I don’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, I get out of the car.

I’ve been coming here at least one Sunday a month for almost two years, and the house hasn’t changed much in that time. Two stories, white siding. Will’s work van is parked in the driveway with Palmer Plumbing stenciled on the side. The flower beds along the front walk are crowded with marigolds, and there’s a ceramic frog by the steps holding a sign that says Welcome Friends.