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The meadow isn’t really a hike. It’s a stroll. “Perfect.” I should be able to stay upright for it.
“Breakfast is ready. Let’s eat first.” Tish leads the way out of the bedroom. A bedroom designed by Kate, unchanged by Tish. Is that strange to her, I wonder? Does she care that my first wife’s handprints cover this room? I find the continuity strangely comforting: a reminder of a beautiful past.
I’m such a fool.
On the way to the bedroom door, I slip my hand inside the sheets and grab my phone. I delete the incoming texts once Tish starts down the hall.
She turns around. Did she catch me?
She says, “I have a big surprise.”
Oh no. All I can think with dread is: Now what?
CHAPTER 5
TISH
John follows me to the breakfast nook and sits. I pour him fresh-squeezed orange juice from a sparkling crystal pitcher. On his plate, I’ve arranged a European breakfast of sorts: a hard-boiled egg; toast and strawberry jam; hard, sharp cheese; and some prosciutto. Cherries shine in a bowl. I saw the whole setup in one of my lifestyle magazines. We’re living the life.
“Lovely surprise. Feel free to do this every morning. Or any morning,” John says before shoving a bite of toast into his mouth.
Cute. He’s pointing out my lack of domestic ability. A backhanded compliment. He should watch it. When’s the last time he made me breakfast? Never. “I guess I’ll have the time to prepare this sort of feast since I’m now in forced retirement from EventCo. I still don’t think it’s fair. I like working with you better.”
“That topic is settled.” John’s voice has an edge to it today. I decide not to push the issue at the moment. But it is not settled. Not with me.
“I’m not sure I’m meant to be a housewife. It seems unfulfilling. But I’m glad you like my attempt. Eat up.” I pull out my chair and sit across from him.
I still remember the moment a month ago when John called me into his office and told me to have a seat.
“Ooh, so serious and boss-like. What’s up?” I asked. I made sure to cross my legs, showing them off from the side slit in my tight black skirt.
“Our consultants have told me that the new investors won’t accept an ex-wife and the second wife working at EventCo once we’re a public company. They say it will scare off potential shareholders. That it’s bad for our IPO. It’s negative optics.”
I’ll give you some negative optics,I thought at the time. “Maybe Kate should retire, then. Isn’t she almost that age?” I glared at him, challenging him. “I’ve been here almost five years. It’s not fair. She should leave. I’m the wife now.”
“Of course Kate will not be leaving. This is her company.” John stood up and walked around his huge desk. My mind flashed to the moment he’d seduced me, right there, on top of that desk. I’d had no idea our flirtations meant anything to him, no idea he was unhappy in his marriage. “Unsatisfied” is the word he had used then as he pushed me back onto the desk.
I shake my head. His office took on a whole different vibe a month ago. That’s when he told me I was out.
“It’s my company, too,” I said. “I’ve been a good employee. A great executive assistant. You can’t replace me.”
“Of course not, honey. You’re irreplaceable, but I’ll need to. Sandra’s working on it already,” he said. His hands found my shoulders, massaging the tension, trying to make me agree to his stupid decision.
“Whatever.” That’s all I said. It wasn’t really an agreement; it was a pause, time to think through my options and to appease John. When it comes down to it, for John, it’s all about appearances. And, on the surface at least, Kate and Ashlyn’s comfort and needs come first. Always have. I was such a fool.
When we first married, I thought it would be different. I thought I would be more important to John than Kate. But I never was. And Ashlyn? I thought she’d have her place, meeting us for dinner out oncea week. He made a lot of promises to me back then. He’s broken them all. I just can’t trust him.
As for Kate and Ashlyn, I’ll deal with them later.
Focus, Tish.
And I do. First on John eating and then, behind him, the hideous curtains hanging in the living room. Kate has terrible taste in decor. Probably another reason he picked me. I was what he wanted. He said he wanted to escape from the failure of his marriage, the constant demands of a never-content Kate. I was his soul mate, his solution. Now, I’m not sure what I am to him. I need to get his attention.
John cracks the egg, hitting it too hard with his spoon. Shell fragments skitter across the table.
“I’m so excited for our day, aren’t you?” I ask.
John’s mouth is moving, as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. I reach across the table and hold his hand. He allows the touch for a moment, before his phone buzzes.
