After dropping the kids off at school the next morning, I make my way to the local shopping plaza to grab some groceries for tonight. Nerves set my emotions running in all different directions when I think about having to play happy family with my mom and Taylor. Especially with how Leo and I left things last night.
I woke up this morning and heard the shower running, so I assumed he’d stay for breakfast with the kids as he normally tries to make time to do. But he didn’t. By the time he was dressed and I was making breakfast, he was kissing the kids goodbye and walking out the door. Greta even asked me why Leo didn’t say goodbye to me. I didn’t know what to say, so I simply told her that he must’ve forgotten about me. Then tried not to laugh at how ridiculous that must have sounded even to a seven-year-old’s ears. Charlie was quiet; he’s getting too quiet. I think when they get home on Sunday, it’s time Leo and I sat down to have a talk with him and see how he’s doing.
I flick my turn signal on and pull into the parking lot, waiting for a car to back out before I drive into the now vacated spot. I jump out, reaching over the console to grab my purse then shut the door and adjust my baby pink lace sundress and cream cardigan. Walking through the automatic doors, I stop quickly at the butcher before making my way into the supermarket to grab the rest of the ingredients for tonight’s dinner, as well as some other things we need.
I get a cart and make my way through the aisles, grabbing milk, butter, vegetables, and some fruit before my phone rings in my purse. Stopping at the end of an aisle, I tilt my bag off my shoulder, digging through it and pulling my phone out.
Jared.
Christ, I can’t do this now. Not here. Can I? I’d planned on talking to him on Tuesday. But I guess I can’t keep ignoring his calls until then, especially with the way Leo reacted last night. Mind made up, I hit answer just before it goes to voicemail.
“Hey,” I say, moving into the next aisle and grabbing some cereal.
“Blondie,” he breathes. I hear a horn and the noise of the city from his end of the line. It sounds like he’s walking somewhere.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t talk. Things haven’t been great at home,” I admit quietly.
“What’s he done? Are you okay?” The worry is evident in his tone, despite the noise surrounding him.
I tuck some hair behind my other ear, eyeing the contents of my cart. “Yeah, I’m okay. I was hoping to talk to you on Tuesday.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Have you thought about it? About us?”
“I have.” Because I kind of have, but I’ve always known, and I’ve always told him this could go nowhere. “You know my answer, trouble.”
He sighs. “Shit. Don’t break my heart, babe.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
“I never wanted to.” My eyes widen because he can’t mean that. “You don’t. You’re not …” I can’t even bring myself to say it.
“In love with you? And why can’t I be?” His tone turns colder.
I glance around nervously. “Because it was only a few weeks, Jared, and you know why,” I whisper-hiss. “I told you from the start that it couldn’t go anywhere.”
He chuckles. “Relax, Blondie. I’m not that far gone.”
I swallow. “Okay,” I breathe. “Okay then.”
And I don’t feel stung by his admission at all, only relieved.
“Um, can we talk on Tuesday?” I ask hesitantly when he stays quiet.
I hear him exhale as if he’s smoking. “Sure, Blondie. We can talk on Tuesday.” He hangs up as soon as the words leave his mouth.
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it. Okay, so that went well. I snort to myself. I’m a thirty-two-year-old woman. A wife with two kids. And I think I just had to dump my fling—or whatever he was—over the phone. If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be here, that this would be what became of my life, I’d think they were fucking nuts. I put my phone away and make my way through the rest of the aisles, grabbing what I need. Stopping just before the last aisle to grab some chips from the end display, I hear a familiar voice.
“I don’t care what she says. This is fucked. I just went around there with the appraiser, and she wouldn’t even let them in the door.” I move forward, peeking into the last aisle and finding Dylan Fitzgerald—Fiona’s husband. Or soon-to-be ex.
He grabs something off the shelf and tosses it into the basket hanging over his suited arm. “I don’t care. I want the house on the market. It’s fucking tainted,” he snaps into the phone held to his ear. My brows furrow at his words, and I start to back away. Now probably isn’t the best time to talk to him. But then he turns, his brown eyes falling on me as he looks over his shoulder and says, “Gotta go. Just send the paperwork through to my office asap.” He hangs up, turning on his heel and approaching me.
“Dahlia, hi.” He stops in front of me.
“Hey.” I wave awkwardly.
“How’ve you been?” He drags a hand through his blond hair.
“Um, good. How about you? I saw Fiona the other day …” I trail off.
He nods, averting his gaze for a moment. “Yeah, it’s been difficult, to say the least.”
“How are the boys handling it?” It’s hard to judge with the few times I’ve seen them at school.
“All right, actually. They think staying at a hotel is awesome.” He chuckles.
I force a smile, feeling a little uncomfortable, what with the state I last saw his wife in and all. “I went to the house on Wednesday, actually. Fiona doesn’t seem to be taking it too well,” I admit, for all the good it might do. Which probably isn’t much and he likely already knows exactly how she’s handling it.
His eyes widen. “What? You’ve been …” He blows out a heavy breath. I frown and something stirs in my gut at his baffled expression. “Look, for what it’s worth, tell Leo I’m sorry. That I had no idea, I never would’ve. Christ, you’re still friends with her? I’m sorry, but shit, it just doesn’t make sense.”
I’m so confused, and it must show because realization dawns on his handsome, clean-shaven face. “Holy shit, you don’t even know, do you?”
“Know what?” I shake my head.
His throat bobs as he swallows, running a hand through his hair again and leaving the short strands standing in a neat disarray.
“The reason I left her. I found the tapes.”
My grip tightens on my shopping cart. “Tapes?”
“Fiona and Leo …”
No. No, no, no. I start backing up, needing to get out of here. I don’t want to hear it; I don’t need to. It’s written all over his face.
“Stop, please. I have no idea why you don’t already know, but you deserve to.”
I close my eyes as he says the words. The words that I know are going to destroy me. But what he says, what actually comes out of his mouth, destroys me in a completely different way than I could have ever expected, “The night of our anniversary party after you’d left and we’d passed out … She raped your husband.”
My eyes fly open. Raped my … “What?” I gasp when I finally find my voice.
He nods. “I couldn’t believe what I saw myself, but she’s done it before, to others, by the looks of it. I found five tapes, and one of them was of her and Leo.” He scrubs a palm down his face. “She drugged him. I don’t know, but he was practically passed out the whole time. And the stuff she did …” He stops when he sees my face paling.
I feel bile rise up my throat. He curses, grabs my cart, and directs me to the checkout line. I don’t say a word as he puts my groceries through, pays for them, and helps me get them to my car.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Are you okay to drive home? I can call the office, maybe sit with you for a while until someone comes?”
Coming out of my daze, I finally focus my eyes on his worried face. “Uh, it’s okay,” I mumble and quickly grab a hundred-dollar bill from my purse. “Here, for the groceries.”
He waves me off. “It’s fine. The least I could do, really. But are you sure you’re okay?” He frowns.
I have no idea what I am, but I manage to say, “I’ll be all right.”
“Okay, tell Leo to call me, anytime. If he still even wants anything to do with me.”
After saying some kind of goodbye, I hop into my car. And sitting here with the door closed in the silence, everything finally starts to click into place.
All the changes in Leo these past months.
Since that party.
The change in his personality.
The distance.
The way he’d flinch or reject my advances, hell, even my touch.
The silence.
I bury my head in hands and let the tears fall.