Unlike Derek, who always had some idea of perfection I could never achieve, Scott seemed thrilled just to be with me.
He was sweet, yes. But also a bit boring. A bit too nice. And I was going to college, while he was sticking around our hometown, working at his dad’s store. It seemed very much like a high school kind of relationship, and I never really thought we would stay together when I went to college. And we didn’t.
Then when I moved back to the town after college, I ran into him at the grocery store and found out he had become a police officer. And also that he had filled out quite nicely. And the way he was looking at me, I could tell he still felt the same way about me that he did in high school.
Maybe we could get a drink later? he suggested.
But I had just started my job at the bank, and I was so busy trying to make a good impression. So I put him off, thinking we would do it another time, and then that other time never came. And then of course, Derek entered my life.
I imagine Scott walking into the kitchen at my old house, the one I’ll probably never see again. I imagine him looking down at Derek’s dead body, his eyes filling with disgust. The next time I see Scott, he won’t give me that familiar look of affection.
He’ll never look at me that way again.
God, I have made such a mess of everything.
I push thoughts of Scott Dwyer out of my head. Right now, I need to sleep. I’ve got a long day of driving ahead of me, and since there’s nothing else I can do right now, I should do my best to rest up.
But I have a bad feeling sleep will be difficult.
Chapter 10
I got the worst night’s sleep of my life.
I didn’t lie awake. That would have been preferable to what happened, which is that I dozed off and woke up every hour on the hour with horrible nightmares. But they weren’t exactly nightmares. They were memories.
We had our first date at a French restaurant. It was so much fancier than what I was used to. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, and of course, things got much harder after our parents died and it was just me and Claudia. I wasn’t used to being spoiled that way.
I opened up the menu and was immediately intimidated. It was entirely in French, and I had a feeling that even if I spoke French, I wouldn’t have known what half these dishes were. I timidly asked Derek what was good, and he told me he would order for both of us. He didn’t even ask me what sort of things I liked to eat, but his confidence was compelling. It was so different from every other man I’d ever dated.
Derek ordered some special fancy red wine. He actually sniffed the cork. The server poured it into my glass, and Derek watched eagerly as I took a sip. What do you think, Quinn?
I sat there, unsure how to distinguish this fancy wine from the kind I got for ten dollars from the local liquor store. It’s got a fruity note, I finally said. （It didn’t. It tasted exactly like the ten dollar wine.）
Derek beamed at me, and I felt like I had gotten the right answer on a test. He was so handsome and dripping with charm and charisma. He seemed better than me. Claudia would have been angry if I said that, but I couldn’t help feeling that way.
He ordered us something called coq au vin, which he explained was hen braised in red wine. I also tried foie gras, which is apparently duck liver. It tasted terrible to me, but over the last several years, I grew to appreciate the taste.
And then as we were finishing up the most divine chocolate soufflé, Derek leaned in and kissed me.
In real life, it was a lovely kiss that led to a second date, then a third, then far too soon, a proposal I couldn’t say no to. But in my dream, we had that same dinner, the same expensive wine, and the same delicious chocolate soufflé. And he kissed me the same way. But then when he pulled away, there was a red stain spreading across his white dress shirt.
Quinn, he gasped.
I looked down and saw a steak knife in my right hand. It was covered in my husband’s blood. I let it clatter to the floor, but it was too late.
You bitch, Derek managed as the color drained from his face. Call… an ambulance…
But I didn’t call an ambulance. I just stood there, watching the life drain out of him.
I let my husband die on the floor of my kitchen.
So that’s my other secret. I stabbed Derek in the abdomen to keep him from strangling me, but there was a moment when I might have been able to save him. If I had run straight to the phone and called 911, maybe he would be alive right now. But I didn’t. Yes, I killed him in self-defense, but I wanted him to die.
Not only that, but I waited to make sure he was dead. I stood there, watching him bleed out. As he cried for help. He begged me to call an ambulance until he lost consciousness. And even after he was unconscious, I still waited. Waited until his chest stopped rising and falling. Waited until I couldn’t feel a pulse in his wrist.