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The Last Time He Got It Wrong
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When my water broke, I found out my husband, Damian Keats, had given away my private maternity suite to his childhood friend Sienna Lowe, because she had a stomachache. The top-tier medical team I'd arranged became an overflow bed in a drafty hallway without so much as a curtain around it. He was pouring warm water for Sienna when I said something about it, and he didn't even turn his head. "I got the name on the booking wrong. She's already settled in, so just make do out there for one night." I got it wrong. I'd been listening to that sentence for five years. He got the hospital wrong when I registered for prenatal care, and it happened to be the private clinic where he'd spent the whole day waiting on Sienna's cosmetic appointment. He got the food order wrong at the worst of my morning sickness, and the tart drink I could actually keep down turned into the ghost-pepper wings Sienna loved. He even got the crib size wrong, which is how it ended up as a bed for Sienna's dog. To keep him from getting anything else wrong, I paid the full twelve-thousand-dollar deposit on the private maternity suite six months early and taped the confirmation to the most obvious spot on the refrigerator. I set countdown reminders in my own phone, three times a day. He still got it wrong when he checked me in. Damian noticed how white my face was and frowned a little. "Fine, I got it wrong this time. But you're having a baby. What difference does the room make?" He waved it off the way he always did, and I decided I wasn't gambling my life on him again. I worked the IV out of the back of my hand and dropped my bloodstained wedding ring in the trash. "You're right. It's just a baby. But whatever last name this one carries, it won't be yours."
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The Last Time He Got It Wrong Chapter 9
By evening a fine snow had started falling over Bellecourt.I'd turned down Theo's offer to walk me up, and I was pushing the stroller alone toward my building when Damian, watching from the dark, finally couldn't hold himself back.He came out of the shadows in the landscaping and put himself directly in my path."Elena..."A few months, that was all, and he'd aged more than ten years. His cheekbones stuck out and his lips had gone blue with cold.The moment he saw me his eyes went red, and he dropped straight down into the snow, both knees, hard.I stopped walking and looked at him coldly. There was no alarm on my face and nothing that resembled gladness."Elena, I was wrong. I know now, I really do know." Damian tipped his face up and the tears ran down through the dirt on it, mixed with melted snow.His hands shook as he pulled a filthy cloth bundle out of an inside pocket, held it up in both palms, and opened it fold by fold.Inside was a cheap silver baby locket, poorly
The Last Time He Got It Wrong Chapter 8
When my recovery stay ended, I took my healthy daughter and boarded a flight my parents had arranged for Bellecourt, in Arvessa, without a second thought.A few months later I had our Arvessa branch running better than it ever had.Out from under a marriage that had eaten five years of me from the inside, the tiredness came off my face and I felt more alive than I had in a long time.It was a weekend afternoon, the sun was out over Bellecourt, and a mild breeze came off the Vellin River promenade.I was laughing at my daughter babbling away in her stroller.Beside me, Theo Moreau, an Arvessan executive from the branch with fair hair and blue eyes, handed me a hot latte with something in his face he wasn't trying to hide.In stiff, heavily accented English he told me how beautiful my daughter was, and he kept getting me to laugh.We talked through next quarter's strategy, and every call I made came out sure of itself.I was laughing as I took the coffee and about to thank him wh
The Last Time He Got It Wrong Chapter 7
With my family's money and connections no longer under it, Damian's company came down inside a week.The banks seized his real estate and his cars, and creditors camped outside the office every day with banners and buckets of red paint.Every account in his name was frozen, and he couldn't scrape together enough for a fast-food dinner.The crowd that used to circle him, all of them calling him Mr. Keats in that eager way, now avoided him like something contagious.With nowhere left to go, Damian thought of Sienna.He sat on a bench on a street corner and talked himself into it.Over the years he'd sunk close to half a million dollars into her. A furnished apartment downtown. A sports car. Spending money without end.He believed, honestly believed, that after growing up together in the same group home, whatever they'd screamed at each other, she'd remember what he'd been to her and give back enough to get him through the month.When he came through the rain and knocked on the do
The Last Time He Got It Wrong Chapter 6
Once security put him out on the sidewalk, Damian didn't even wipe the scratches off his face. He got in the car and drove like a lunatic back to the house we'd made a home in.He half fell out of the elevator and couldn't get the key into the lock for shaking.The second the door swung open, he stopped dead.Every single thing that belonged to me had been taken out of that warm little house, cleaned out down to nothing.My slippers were gone from the entryway, the closet held nothing but his suits, and when he ran into the kitchen he found that even the ceramic mug I drank out of every morning had vanished."Elena. Elena! Where are you?"He got out his backup phone and called me, and of course all he got was, "The number you have dialed is no longer in service."He wouldn't accept it and called my parents next, both of them, and found himself blocked.Every long message he sent, apology and explanation and begging, bounced back with a red mark beside it.He called my friends,
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