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“It’s not mine.” Somehow the sight of these bills burned her.
“Your husband earned it honestly. It belongs now to his heirs, his widow and children. I’m sure you’ll put it to good use. Thank you for coming right away. Tomorrow, we’ll close this chapter once and for all.”
At home, she said goodnight to Tim with a quick kiss and claimed a huge headache to go to her room.
“Get some sleep, babe. Tomorrow you’ll feel better.” He reassured her with a kind stream of words that barely registered, but the soothing tone of his voice slowly eased the tension.
“Don’t forget to delete the data on the phone before giving it to David,” he reminded her before leaving for his cottage.
In her suite, she showered and donned her beige nightgown, feeling protected in the nightie Tim had given her. Obviously Ben had resented her more than she’d imagined for refusing to have an abortion and overwhelming him with kids. The stress had taken its toll on him and now there was nothing she could do about it.
Feeling a bit better, she lay in bed, grateful for Tim’s love and continuous attention. Knowing that David would be in seventh heaven for getting his dad’s phone, Erin smiled, determined to reward her wonderful boy for his good behavior.
Not sleepy yet, she opened Ben’s phone and deleted the emails without even glancing at them. Ready to delete the pictures, she realized there would be pictures of their family, their happy time together with the children growing. She clicked on the first one, a photo of the six kids, David and Rachelle, each holding a baby at their christening. She smiled and sent the picture to her own phone. The second one showed Ben and David together. Her son would love this picture.
She clicked on the third, stared and gaped.
Who was this couple? She enlarged the picture. Her heart skipped a beat and the bile rose in her throat. “Oh my God… Oh my God.” It couldn’t be true.
The man had his arms around the woman’s waist, his lips against her throat. She was smiling, bubbling with joy.
How could Erin doubt her eyes? She breathed in and out, hoping for calm, for sanity.
Her husband was holding and kissingAnnette Kent… Tim’s late wife... And it wasn’t a brotherly kiss on the cheek like the one a person would give a friend or a neighbor. No sir. It was a sensual, open-mouth, lusty kiss on the sensitive skin of the throat, a foreplay kiss before the real dirty thing.
A groan escaped Erin and her heart twitched with a pain sharper than a knife’s cut.
How could you Ben?
Her mind blank, she glared at the damned picture for so long.
The viper must have bewitched him with jokes and giggles.Snake, worm, skunk. What else should she call the woman who stole a married man?
Damn it, there should be an explanation. She shouldn’t judge him on one picture. Erin clicked on others, and then on the whole folder, but found no other incriminating pictures.
She breathed better and decided to check the texts. Her anger exploded at the dozens of texts exchanged between the lovers. No doubt about it now.
Some of the texts included pictures that left no room for denial—Ben and his lover dancing; Annette on his lap; Ben carrying her upstairs in his arms, the woman always displaying her idiotic, bubbling smile.
“When should we talk about divorce?” she’d written in a text.
Divorce!Erin screamed.
“As soon as we return from our coming trip,” Ben wrote back.
Jerk, he was planning to abandon his wife and children.
Erin slammed the phone on the bed and fisted her hands, crying over her husband’s betrayal, sobbing over her last year’s misery and deprivation while he probably lavished his mistress with his newly found money, and bemoaning the sadness of seeing her children grow up without a dad.
“I hate you, Ben.” If Annette wasn’t dead she would claw off her trademark smile.
By midnight Erin was still awake and still crying.
When God closes a door, he opens a window,her mother often quoted.
Her beloved Tim was her window, her breath of fresh air, her support of every minute. He’d already discovered Annette’s infidelity and had taken it badly, throwing away her clothes and furniture, and swearingto beat the bastard to a pulp, although he didn’t know the identity of the despicable lover.
Man, she was ready to do the same to her dead rival.
