Prologue
Jack
“Hey, man. Where’s Skye?”Noah asked under his breath.
Checking my watch again, I shrugged. “You know how she is, probably still getting her hair done or some shit like that.”Another lie successfully pulled out of my ass.
The truth of it was that I had no flipping clue where my wife actually was, and she was embarrassingly late. It was getting to the point that I didn’t know if I was more worried or mad at her selfishness.
I ambled over to the drink cart and looked around at all of my friends who had shown up to help me celebrate the big four-zero. Skye had planned the whole damn thing, insisting that I needed to lighten up because you only turn forty once. All I wanted was to have a low-key night with a fifth of Jack Daniels to help me forget that my youth was a thing of the past, and now there I was making excuses for why my wife wasn’t at my own fucking party.
Fucking bullshit.
Me: Babe, where the hell are you?
I sent off my fourth text to her. Still no response.
We ate the catered hors d’oeuvres, cut the stupid cake that had my scruffy smiling face screen-printed on it, they all sang happy birthday off key—and Skye was still nowhere to be found.
The party dwindled, though everyone tried to stay as late as they could to get the scoop on where Skye really was. It had turned into almost a game for most of the guests. They even started making bets on how long it was going to take her to show up and where she had actually been all night. I couldn’t blame them. If it hadn’t been happening to me, I would have been laughing and speculating right along with them.
Noah and Izzy were the last ones left, helping me clean up, and pissed didn’t even begin to describe the rage I was feeling at that point.
“I hope she’s all right,” Izzy muttered to Noah, her husband and my best friend, as she started to clean off the dining room table.
Pouring myself three fingers of single molt scotch, I slumped onto the couch with a forced sigh. “Don’t even worry about that shit. I’ll get it in the morning.”
“It’s no bother, Jack. Besides, you shouldn’t have to clean up from your own party.” Izzy was a sweetheart, and the three of us had known each other since we were in elementary school. Noah and Izzy were the closest thing I had to family, and in that moment, I was thankful they were there.
Just as I was about to call my wife again, the front door slammed.
Skye stumbled in, ripping off her red-soled heels. “Fuck,” she exclaimed as she threw her purse onto the table in the foyer.
“Where have you been?” I asked, rushing to her side. The smell of liquor emanated from every pore of her tiny body as I caught her in my arms.
“I’m gone!” she yelled, her words slurring as she forcefully pushed me away.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I started to follower her as she stomped into our bedroom.
“It means I am leaving your sorry ass once and for all!” she shrilled, pulling her larger-than-life suitcase out of the closet.
“Skye, you need to explain to me what the heck is happening right now. Why are you doing this? Is there someone else?” I couldn’t believe the words that were leaving my mouth.
Tossing her panties and bras in first, my wife nodded her head vigorously. “Brock and I are finally going to start our life together.”
“Brock? Your twenty-five-year-old man-child of a personal assistant?” My entire body burned red hot as rage started to replace my disbelief.
“He’s more of a man than you’ve ever been. He’s gotcharisma.” Skye started pulling all her clothes off their hangers.
“Charisma? What the fuck does that even mean?” I stood in the middle of our colossal master bedroom watching in horror as my life turned upside down in front of me.
“See! You don’t even know what I’m talking about! How do you expect me to stay with you when someone likehimis interested in me? He can at least find my damn g-spot.” Skye was fucking laughing, and that was the worst part—she thought all of this was a damn joke.
“Fuck it. Go be with that roided-out, piece-of-shit college dropout! Once you walk out that door, you’re never coming back!” I opened the door for her.
“Good, because I don’t want to ever fucking come back to this shithole again.” Skye ambled over to the dresser, dragging her large bag behind her. Taking off her wedding ring, she set in on the dresser while smiling—such a kick in the damn teeth. Her smirk slapped me across the face. Silently, I followed as she triumphantly marched barefoot through the house.
As she reached the front door, Skye turned and frowned at me. “I never loved you, anyway. This is for the best, Jack.”