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I bite my lip, and then I force a smile. Ethan never cared much for social media but maybe that changed. A lot of things had changed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SADIE
My key isn’t even halfway in the lock when I realize something is very, very wrong. My heart hitches in my throat. There’s movement inside. It suddenly dawns on me that the porch is dark, and I know for sure I left the light on.
Slowly, I pull the key from the lock. Every fiber of my being is telling me to turn and run. But then, I hear music coming from inside, and I realize I’m probably overreacting. It’s probably just Ethan, but I’m in no mood for his games. We’re playing on my terms now.
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As I retreat, I consider going back to the party, and what I’ll say when I do. I’m afraid to go home. Someone’s in my house. It could be my husband.
I’m halfway up the walk when the door suddenly flings open. Just inside, there’s the outline of a man. I can see that he’s holding something in his hand, although I can’t make out what that thing is. Partially because I’m blinded by the light behind him but, also, because I’ve taken off in full sprint.
I had no idea I could run so fast. Unfortunately, it isn’t fast enough. I don’t even make it to the end of the driveway before I feel his fingertips grasping at my shoulder. Winded, and practically caught, I do the thing that makes least amount of sense, I turn and take a swing at him.
He ducks.
I take another swing but he evades it just the same. “Sadie!”
I can’t place the voice.
“Sadie, stop!”
Finally, under the glow of the street lamp, I get a look at his face. “You!”
“Sadie,” he says through bated breath.
“Chet?”
“Jesus,” he pants. “Why’d you run?”
I fold, bracing my palms on my knees. “Why are you chasing me?”
“I heard you fumbling with the lock. I bolted the deadbolt just so I wouldn’t scare you—in case you weren’t expecting me. Although, I was told you would be.”
I stand and meet him face to face. “What are you doing in my house?”
His brow furrows. “Your husband hired me to paint.”
“He what?”
“Well, actually he hired Darryl. But…you know how that turned out.”
I mull over what he’s said. Maybe Ethan told me he’d hired someone and maybe he hadn’t. I’m pretty sure he hadn’t. “Come see,” he says. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
My living room is chaos. Paint fumes fill my house, which Chet seems to think he can cover up by playing classical music. All of my furniture has been covered and moved to one side of the living room. Nothing is as I left it or as it’s supposed to be.
“You look nice,” Chet tells me.
I look at him as though he’s lost his mind and I breathe in hard in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. I feel them stinging the back of my throat, building. Until suddenly they’re out and I’m sobbing and I can’t stop. I press the heels of my hands against my eye sockets but it makes little difference. Giant chest-heaving sobs pull me under. “I don’t understand,” I manage to choke out. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”
Chet sighs, obviously at a loss for words. He doesn’t get it. His presence is proof. My life is over. I’m going to be homeless soon. The thought of standing on a street corner does something inside. It’s like a dam breaks and the floodgates have opened and God help anyone downstream.
Finally, I sink to the floor. Not dramatically or anything. Just in a way that points out there is nowhere else to sit. I don’t notice when he comes to my aid. All I know is I feel him kneel beside me. “Are you okay?”
He pats my back like one might a child, rubbing in small circles the way my mother used to do. It only makes me cry harder. “Can I get you something?”
