1 - Happy Anniversary

~Jessica~

“What are you doing here?"

My husband meets me at the top of the stairs, his gym shorts hugging his slender hips and his body covered with a thin sheen of sweat. He must have been in the middle of his workout routine when he heard me come in. That would explain why he's out of breath.

"I thought you had that big meeting today," he reminds me.

“I did, but I thought about what you said the other day, and you’re right. I’ve been too focused on work lately. I wanted to surprise you.”

I hold up the Victoria’s Secret bag filled with silky lingerie that I bought as a special treat, and for a second, his eyes light up the way they used to before we started growing apart.

But just as quickly as the light appears, it extinguishes once again. “That’s sweet, baby, but I didn’t know you were coming home. I’ve made other plans.”

He’s still standing at the top of the stairs, his body blocking my way. When I try to move past him, he doesn’t budge.

“Other plans?” I ask in confusion. “On our anniversary?”

His eyes dart away from mine, and he runs a hand through his damp hair. “You said you'd be working.”

The way he's acting makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. If I didn't know any better, I would think there's something upstairs he doesn't want me to see. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, my stomach drops and I can't think of anything else.

In a split second, I make my decision. Ducking under his arm, too quickly for him to react, I slip past him and run down the hall towards our bedroom door.

"Jess, wait!" he calls out behind me, but I don't stop.

My heart pounds as I throw the bedroom door open, hoping against hope that I'm wrong, that I'm being paranoid for no reason at all.

The room is empty.

The bed's a mess, but that's not unusual. Since Kyle doesn't work, he's often in bed too late for our housekeeper to clean the room.

He reaches the door a second after me, his breath still shallow. "What the hell is wrong with you? What are you looking for?"

Did I really just get worked up for nothing? Every nerve in my body is on edge as I try to calm my racing heart. I could have sworn I was right, but maybe I have been working too hard. The long hours must be affecting me more than I realized.

Just as I'm about to apologize for jumping to such a horrible assumption, a sound comes from the bathroom, like something being knocked off the vanity onto the hard tile floor, and when Kyle's eyes meet mine, so wide with panic I can see the whites all around his irises, I know for sure.

Whoever she is, she's hiding in there.

"Jess, don't." The fight is gone from his voice as I march to the door and throw it open.

Inside, half-dressed and struggling to get her pants back on, is the woman I've called my best friend for the last twenty years.

The woman I thought would always be there for me. The one person I thought I could count on.

The room spins around me and for a moment, I think I'm going to be sick.

"Chelsea?" I manage to choke out. My heart is beating faster than it ever has before. It feels like it might beat right out of my chest.

She whips her head around, her blue eyes wild, her blond hair sticking to her face.

"Jess, I can explain." Her words come out as a whimper, like she's the victim here.

"I don't need an explanation. I think I'm smart enough to figure it out." My voice is hard enough to cut glass, but inside, my heart is shattering. It's not bad enough that my husband had sex with another woman in our bed on our first anniversary, but now, I've lost my best friend too. Trying to hold myself together, I turn back to Kyle, who can't look me in the eye. "How long has this been going on?"

"Does it matter?" he asks weakly, but that's all the answer I need. This wasn't the first time.

There's nothing else to say. With the lingerie bag still in my hand, I walk out of the room, knowing in my heart I'll never see it again. This house was supposed to be where Kyle and I raised our family, the house we picked out together just 18 months ago, but it's tainted now. Haunted. I'll never be able to unsee the images my mind is weaving now: the two of them naked on the bed where I sleep. Her blonde hair contrasting with his muscular chest. Her blue eyes gazing up at him from beneath her fake lashes as he enters her. The bed creaking as they move, the headboard thumping against the wall with each thrust.

It drums in my ears as clearly as if it's happening now as I march firmly down the stairs and out the front door.

My car is where I left it in the driveway, the sleek red Porsche I bought myself as a reward for the first million dollars I earned. But unlike when I left it, a black Bugatti is parked next to it, with a man leaning against the hood. Even though he's not standing up straight, his backside resting against the car's expensive exterior, he still exudes power and control. He must be at least six feet tall with jet-black hair and sun-kissed skin sporting a thick shadow of stubble down his jaw. His expensive Italian suit strains across his thighs, his jaw is set, and sunglasses hide his eyes.

It takes me a minute to recognize him. It's Chelsea's husband, Enzo. I've only met him once before, at their wedding, even though they've been married longer than Kyle and I have. He works abroad most of the time, or so she told me.

He acknowledges me with the slightest inclination of his head and when he speaks, his voice is low and controlled, reminding me of a caged animal. There's restrained power behind each word. "Did you walk in on them?"

I blink at him in surprise as I try to make sense of his words. "You knew?"

He inhales slowly and deliberately. "I had my suspicions. I came here to confirm it, but you just saved me the trouble."

How can he be so calm when I feel like my whole world is crumbling? Maybe he just hides it better. "You don't want to go in and confront her?"

His lip curls upward, just the tiniest bit at the corner. If I blinked, I would have missed it. "That's not really my style, Ms Williams. She'll know I know when she gets the divorce papers."

The ice in his words makes me shiver, and I see his lip quirk upwards again. "Williams?" I repeat in surprise. He's used my maiden name. I don't even know how he'd know it.

"You're not going to keep his name, are you?" His eyebrows raise behind the sunglasses.

I hadn't got that far in my thought process yet, but he's right. I don't want anything to do with Kyle, and definitely not his name. "No, I guess not."

"If you want my lawyers to prepare your paperwork too, I can arrange that. No need for us to waste time or money. They just need to change the names."

Reaching into his pocket, he hands me a black business card, the letters raised in a sleek silver. It carries a faint hint of his cologne, subtle and elegant, just like everything about him. Enzo Baresi. 555-523-7781

That's all it says. Nothing about what kind of business he does. Before he pulls his hand back, I think I catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his large, rough hand. It looks out of place against the designer suit.

"Let me know tonight," he says as he turns to get in his car. "The sooner I can put this all behind me, the better."

Without waiting for a reply, he slides into the driver's seat and closes the door, driving off without giving me another glance.

Left alone on the driveway, clutching the business card in one hand and my useless bag of lingerie in the other, I take one quick look back at the house and the life that used to be mine.

The sooner I put it behind me, the better for me too.