How many kids do you want, Goose? However many you want, I’ll give them all to you.
“I called Jan on my way home.”
I’ve forgotten Andie’s beside me. I flip over onto my side so that we’re facing each other. “You called Jan?” My voice is small.
“Well, I remembered you have that big round of edits due to her this week—the ones you were scrambling to finish on the plane, for her new new book. Right? Anyway, I told her you were having a family emergency and would be out of commission for a few days.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“And I canceled dinner with my mom.”
“You shouldn’t cancel, Andie. She just got back from rehab.”
“For, like, the fifth time this year. Besides, you’re way more important.”
I sigh, too miserable to be fully grateful for Andie’s selflessness. Her mother hasn’t been doing well, and despite their complex relationship, I know Andie’s been looking forward to seeing her for weeks.
“You should really go to dinner,” I squeak.
“I’m not going. And you need to eat something, Skye. What can I make you? Or I’ll order takeout? Anything you want.”
“I’m just not hungry.”
“I know, but it’s been twenty-four hours. You have to eat.”
“No, I don’t. It won’t kill me.”
“Skye.” Andie sighs. “What do you want to do? Do you want to call your dad?”
So far, Andie and I have told no one about the email that unraveled my entire life in moments. A fucked-up part of me wishes Burke hadn’t been such a dumbass and could just have sent the email to the correct Andy. Whoever said ignorance is bliss hit the nail on the head.
“Skye?” She’s inches from my face, but Andie’s voice sounds far away. An echo. “What do you think about calling your dad?”
A fresh wave of horror washes through me. “I can’t tell my dad.” Fresh tears burn behind my eyes. I’ve cried so much in the past twenty-four hours that I’m afraid to look in the mirror. “Not yet.”
Andie says nothing, and I know she understands. How can I tell my father, who just shelled out a quarter of a million dollars on his daughter’s dream wedding, that the entire thing was a sham? I let this happen. I vouched for Burke to my family. I married a con man.
For some reason our wedding registry pops into my head. I think about the wasted hours I spent on its curation, the level of thought I put into the selection of items such as cheese knives and bath rugs. The extent to which I contemplated place settings. Tory Burch spongeware or Juliska Berry & Thread? A decision that consumed me for weeks, that kept me up at night. Irrelevant now.
“I’m so fucking sad, Andie.” The tears spill over. “And so angry.”
“I know.”
“And I miss him. How fucked-up is that?”
“It’s not fucked-up. Cut yourself a break, okay? This just happened. Your entire world is shattered. What he did is fucked-up. I mean, fucked-up doesn’t even begin to do it justice. It’s criminal. He could go to prison.”
“I know,” I say, though I hadn’t thought about it that way.
“It’s bigamy. And actually, when your dad finds out about this, he’ll make sure Burke goes to prison.”
A seam splits through my heart at the sound of his name. Burke. My husband. My husband cannot go to prison. My insides twist at the thought.
“I’m sorry.” Andie sighs. “Maybe you’re not ready to think about that.”
I shrug. “In some moments I am … but then it switches over so quickly to … just … brokenness.”
Andie blinks. A few moments of silence pass.
“Your heart is broken, Skye,” she says eventually. “Even though the circumstances are outrageous, it doesn’t negate the heartbreak. God, I’m so sorry. I so wanted you to be happy.” A tear slips down the hollow of Andie’s cheek.
“You never trusted him.” I lock her gaze. “You said it was too fast, and I should have listened to you.”
“Fuck what I said. You loved him, and you listened to your heart. Who’s to say I wouldn’t have done the same?”
I shake my head. “You wouldn’t have, Andie. You’re too smart for that. And too strong.”
“That’s not true. I––” She pauses. “I’m a wimp for not telling you, but Spencer told me six months ago that he might never want to get married.” She looks back at me. “It’s why I was being a bitch to you at your bachelorette, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking, ‘I’ve done this whole routine for so many of my friends, and now I’ll never have it myself.’ But still, here I am, staying in a relationship with no future.”
“Oh, Andie.” I swallow. “You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“Spence is probably just nervous. You guys will get married. Of course you will.”
She shrugs. “This isn’t about me. I just wanted to tell you because I should have told you a while ago, but I was … embarrassed, I guess.”
“You had no reason to be embarrassed. I’m mortified. I don’t know where to go from here.”
“I told you, we’re going to figure it out. And in the meantime, you’re staying here with me.”
“That’s nice of you, but I can’t evict Spencer.”
“Screw Spencer.” Andie props up on one elbow and reaches for her phone on the nightstand. “I just realized that we need to call your bank and have Burke blocked from the joint account. We also need to cancel any credit cards he has access to.”
I nod slowly. “Right.”
“I’ll call. What’s the bank?”
“Bank of America Private Bank.”
“Do you know the account number offhand?”
I shake my head. “I can go on the app and check.”
I sit up in bed, leaning back against the pillows. I take out my own phone as though I’m on autopilot and log in to the Bank of America app. As it loads I realize how rarely I check the account. The balance is always so much more than I need, and since Burke and I moved in together, he’s taken care of paying off the credit cards.
But my heart goes still when the recent transactions appear on the screen. I blink, rereading the top line. It’s possible I’m hallucinating.
“Andie.” It comes out as a whisper, a choke. I tilt the screen in her direction, my hands trembling as I point to the latest transaction on the account:
Oct. 3, 2019: External transfer—$2,000,000
“What the…” I watch Andie’s eyes bloom with fury, the black of her pupils filling her irises. My head feels heavy, a balloon of sand.
Burke has stolen two million dollars from me. He transferred it right out of the account, right under my nose. How is that even possible?
The world tips. I’m suddenly angry. Starkly, insanely angry.
“We need to call the police.” Andie’s voice is thin.
“No,” I say, flooded with conviction. “I need to talk to Burke first. I need to look my husband in the eye and tell him that I know what he did.”