The door closes behind him with an ominous thunk.
* * *
Elliot
I try to work for the rest of the afternoon. There are lots of things needing my attention, but I can’t focus. My body’s jittery with anger and nerves and all the “what ifs”.
What if my wife’s innocent?
What if she’s in cahoots with Keith?
What if Annabelle Underhill is trying to destroy my marriage because her marriages have fallen apart?
What if Dad’s behind all this? Maybe he’s paying Paddington to lie to me…
Then I shake my head. The more I think, the more desperate I become. I want to believe that what my wife and I have had since the disastrous dinner has been real…that she hasn’t said “I love you” to manipulate me.
At the rate things are going, “I love you” is going to end up my most hated phrase.
“Why have you been ignoring me?” comes Nonny’s loud tear-stained voice through the door. She must’ve just returned from school.
Belle murmurs something—she’s talking too quietly for me to catch what she’s saying.
“You’re saying Caroline lied?”
I pause. The name is familiar. Then it hits me. It’s the roommate, the one who came instead of Belle that time. She had dollar signs in her eyes and a smile that said she’d do anything for a few crisp hundred dollar bills.
And she told me she had Belle sub for her because she got sick.
Even if Grayson ordered the cake, he couldn’t have known it would be my wife inside it. So Caroline must’ve helped him. Otherwise it’s simply too much of a coincidence.
Nonny’s almost hysterical now, louder and shriller. “So she didn’t lie? You really…stripped and slept with men for money? And then told me you were waiting tables and cleaning bathrooms?”
I crack open the door and watch the two. They’re so intent, they don’t notice me. Nonny hasn’t even dropped her backpack. Her hands are wrapped tightly around the shoulder straps, her body hunched against impending bad news. My wife, on the other hand looks exhausted, her delicate shoulders slumped, her face pale.
“Nonny, I did wait tables and I clean bathrooms. I didn’t lie to you.”
“You just didn’t tell me everything! How am I going to go back to school tomorrow? You have no idea how it feels.” Nonny’s face is so red, not even the light layer of makeup can hide the dull flush on her cheeks.
My wife hugs herself. “I’m sorry. The stripping was just that one time, and I have never slept with anyone for money. You know me better than that.”
“I don’t know what to think.” Nonny wipes away tears.
I shouldn’t interfere. This is between the two of them.
Belle’s body language spells defeat. I hate seeing the anguish twisting her face, but I’m too messed up in the head right now to offer a word of comfort.
A small, petty part of me says I should be happy that she’s hurting because I’m hurting too. But all I feel is a throbbing ache in my chest, and there’s no satisfaction. I’d much rather she feel my pain—and understand how she’s gutted me.
Nonny buries her face in her hands, and I can’t stop myself. I’ll be damned if I let the kid become collateral damage. “Nonny,” I say.
Her head snaps my way. Her cheeks turn even redder. “Elliot.”
I gesture at Nonny to come into my office, and she obeys without a fuss. I shut the door. She takes a seat on a couch, her mouth pressed tightly. Her shoulders are practically touching her ears. “If you’re going to yell at me for talking to my sister like that—”
“I’m not.”
“Oh.” She relaxes about a quarter millimeter. “Okay. So…?”