Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN BEHIND THE DOOR
"I'll give her the divorce papers at your gender reveal," my husband said. "She'll survive. It's not like Erin can give me a baby."
I stood six feet away, holding a white gift box with two tiny blue socks inside.
The socks weren't proof that we were having a boy. They were the only baby clothes my mother had managed to knit before she died. The ultrasound picture underneath them showed a small, unmistakable heartbeat.
Twelve weeks. After three years of trying, one miscarriage, and more negative tests than I could count, I was twelve weeks pregnant.
And Alex Bennett was on his knees in front of another woman.
I'd come to the private suite above the Bennett family's downtown event space to surprise him. The door hadn't latched. I heard him laugh, that low, sleepy laugh I hadn't heard at home in months.
"Say it again," the woman told him.
Alex kissed the swell of her belly. "Our baby deserves the best."
Victoria Vale stood over him in a cream dress, one hand buried in his hair. I knew her. Everybody knew her. Three years ago, she'd disappeared right before Alex and I got married. His mother called her a family friend who couldn't handle commitment.
"And Erin?" Victoria asked.
"What about her?"
"When will she know I'm moving into the estate?"
He straightened his cuff. "At the party. Mom's already having the east rooms redone. I'll tell Erin in front of everybody. She won't make a scene with two hundred guests watching."
"You sure?"
"I know my wife. She cries first. Then she apologizes for crying."
Victoria laughed.
A woman pushing a catering cart came around the corner. I moved aside too late; a metal spoon rattled to the floor. The woman looked from my face to the gift box and opened her mouth.
I shook my head once.
Behind the door, Alex said, "She's been waiting three years. I'm done waiting."
I backed down the hallway. The box slipped, and I caught it against my stomach. It was such a stupid little motion that I almost laughed.
I made it to the service stairs before my legs stopped working. Through the window, Lake Michigan looked like a sheet of steel. I sat on the bottom step and pressed the box to my chest until the ribbon left a mark on my palm.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Alex: Running late. Don't wait up.
For a second, I typed, I'm here. I erased it.
Outside, rain came down so hard the curb disappeared. I walked into it without opening my umbrella. On the sidewalk, a cab splashed water over my shoes. I didn't even flinch.
At the corner, I called Laura Chen. She'd been my best friend in college and a divorce attorney for eight years. Last month, she'd asked why I kept changing the subject whenever she mentioned Alex.
"Erin?" she answered. "Hey. Are you okay?"
"No." My voice sounded unfamiliar. "Can you file for divorce before he does?"
There was a pause. A door clicked shut on her end.
"Tell me where you are."
"Near the river. Please don't ask me to calm down."
"I wasn't going to." She waited. "Do you feel safe going home?"
I thought of Alex promising another woman the rooms I'd spent three years painting.
"Not yet."
"Then come to my office. We'll talk about what you want, what you own, and what comes next."
I ended the call and opened the gift box. Water had stained one corner. The sonogram was still dry.
When I pulled out the little socks, a folded card fell from underneath the tissue. I'd written it that morning in my own terrible handwriting.
You're going to be a dad.
I tore the card in half.
I'd reused an old wedding keepsake box for the announcement. Under the tissue, a creased receipt was stuck in one corner—the alterations bill I'd carried home after our ceremony and forgotten.
MRS. VEGA — EMERGENCY ALTERATION, BRIDAL FITTING.
At the bottom someone had typed ORIGINAL BRIDE, then scribbled hard across the space where a name should have been.
May you like
I stared at it. An emergency fitting had seemed romantic when Alex asked me to marry him with forty-eight hours' notice. Now I wondered why someone had needed to hide the original name.
And for the first time that day, I wondered whether the lies had started before our marriage even began.
