I nod. I haven’t shared my conspiracy theory with him. I don’t want him to think I’m crazy. I know I’m right, but I don’t expect anyone to believe me. It’s better to pretend I’m just some scatterbrain who forgot to pay for the earrings.
I go straight home with Bobby after I pick him up at school. Unfortunately, Elliot still isn’t home. I send him a text, and he doesn’t respond. I’m dreading telling him about the confession I signed. He’s going to be furious. He explicitly told me not to sign anything, then I went ahead and did it anyway.
I’ve thought about it a lot and I’ve decided to tell Elliot about the harassing text messages. This has gone far enough. Yes, I’m terrified of him seeing that photo of me and Mark Tanner, but I’ll have to take that risk. I can’t deal with this alone anymore. As soon as he comes home, I’m telling him everything. Then we’ll figure out what to do next.
At eight o’clock, I finally get a text from Elliot:
Work is crazy today. I’ll be home at nine.
I want to throw my phone at the wall. After everything I’ve been through today, how could he get home so late? I almost got arrested! Is it too much to ask to get to see my husband before bedtime?
Bobby senses something is going on, and he goes to bed without an argument. I think he’s getting used to his father not being home at bedtime. After he’s tucked in, I go back downstairs and watch television. After the day I had, I just want to zone out with the TV.
At nine-thirty, I finally hear the lock turning in the front door. I sit up straight, preparing to give Elliot a piece of my mind.
My husband stumbles into the living room, looking like he stopped at a bar for a drink or three on his way home. He’s got a dark five o’clock shadow on his scalp, filling in the patches where his hair used to be. His tie is partially undone and his shirt is rumpled. He walks into the living room and drops down beside me on the sofa.
“April,” he murmurs.
“Looks like you had a shitty day too.” I’m not going to make less of my own situation. I mean, I almost got arrested. But I can be sympathetic. “You were right. The policeman just gave me a citation.”
He nods, like the information is completely unimportant to him. I’m a little hurt. He sounded upset when I told him about the charges earlier today, but now he doesn’t seem to care at all. I guess his career supersedes any of my problems.
“Anyway,” I say, “the officer seemed to think it wouldn’t be a huge deal. I mean, it was just one pair of earrings. But there’s something else I wanted to…”
The words die on my lips when I see Elliot’s bloodshot eyes. He looks awful.
“Are you okay?” I say.
Elliot rotates his head to look at me. “Brianna is pregnant,” he blurts out.
“Oh.” That isn’t so bad. It’s a hassle for him because he’ll have to hire a new assistant. But I’m thrilled she won’t be around anymore soon—I truly dislike that woman. “So how long will she be working before she goes on leave?”
“No. You don’t understand.” He rubs his palms against his eyeballs. “She’s pregnant and…”
Oh.
Oh no.
I scramble up from the sofa, my heart pounding. “Oh my God. You’re joking with me, Elliot. You didn’t… not again…”
He looks up at me with those bloodshot eyes. He looks like he’s been crying. And that he might start again at any moment. “I’m so sorry, April.”
“You’re sorry? You’re fucking sorry? You got your secretary pregnant and that’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?”
“I…” He shakes his head. “You’ve got to believe me, it was just a one-time thing. I swear. I never thought…”
“You never thought I’d find out? You never thought you would knock her up?” I clench my hands into fists. “Do you know how bad this is?”
He takes a shaky breath. “I know. I know, okay? What can I say? I fucked up.”
He tries to reach for me and I shake him off. The thought of touching this man makes my skin crawl. How can I ever forgive him for something like this?
Although it wouldn’t be the first time. After that mess with Courtney, I thought…
Oh God.
I start pacing across the living room. There’s more going on here than just his selfish act of infidelity. We’ve got a situation here. This is really bad. I thought being accused of stealing money from the PTA was bad. I thought being cited for shoplifting was bad. But I was wrong. This is bad.
“So… what now?” I’m still pacing as I talk. “What does she want?”
He clears his throat. “She, uh… she’s saying she wants to keep it.”
“What?” I had assumed Brianna was just looking for a quickie abortion and a payout. “You can’t be serious?”
He nods miserably.
I look at his face. He’s wrecked by this. But part of me wonders if deep down, he’s happy. He and I have been trying for a baby for a long time. And now, miraculously, here’s a baby. With another woman, of course, but maybe that doesn’t matter to him.
Maybe this is the opportunity he’s been waiting for.
“So what are you going to do?” I say. “Are you going to run off with Brianna now?”
“No!” Elliot leaps to his feet. “Of course not! April, I love you. You know that.”
I snort. “Do I?”
“Of course I do!” He tries to reach for me again, and I jerk away. “I just need to figure out what to do…”
What to do? As far as I can tell, there are two options. He can stay with his wife, or he can leave me for the woman over ten years younger who’s pregnant with his baby.
Elliot hangs his head. “Do you want me to stay at a hotel tonight?”
Well, I don’t want him in my bed. I can barely even look at him right now. But at the same time, I have a bad feeling that if I tell him to leave, he’ll go straight to her. And I don’t want that right now. I don’t want her to be the good guy, while I’m the bad guy. Because the truth of the matter is that as angry as I am, I don’t want my family to fall apart. Not like this.
“You can sleep on the sofa,” I say.
“Thank you.” He pushes his hand against the cushion of our leather sofa. It’s a very comfortable sofa. “I just need a pillow and a blanket…”
“Wait,” I say.
He raises his eyebrows.
“I don’t want you to sleep on the sofa,” I say. “I want you to sleep on the floor.”
Elliot looks doubtfully at the hardwood floor. “Well, that’s fine. I’ll just lie on the carpet.”
“No. Not the carpet. The floor.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Okay. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Damn right.” Except it’s not enough. Not even close.
Elliot chews on his lower lip. “I’m so sorry, April. I know I messed up. But I love you, and I promise, this is going to be okay. I’m going to fix it.”
How? How on earth is this going to be okay? I can’t even imagine it. But there’s no point in arguing. “Good night, Elliot.”