"I know. But you look like you needed it."
That half-smile again. "Thank you, Jade."
He stands and pulls on his jacket. I expect him to leave, but he pauses, then pulls a napkin from the dispenser, scribbling something on it.
When he slides it across the bar, I see a phone number and his name in neat scrawl:Samuel.
"In case you ever want to talk," he says. "About the long weeks. Or the months. Or nothing at all."
Then he's gone, the door swinging shut behind him, and I'm left holding a napkin with a stranger's name and number on.
I should throw it away. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’m married—but I don’t think he meant it like that. He seemed like he was still in love with his wife. Maybe heartbreak recognizes heartbreak.
Instead, I fold it and slip it into my pocket.
The rest of my shift passes in a blur. I close out the register, wipe down tables, and lock up. The whole time, I'm thinking about the way Samuel looked at me. Like I was a person, not a problem to be solved. Not a wife who needs to be reassured or convinced of anything.
Just... Jade.
I drive to Katrina's instead of home. It's late, almost one AM, but I can't face our bedroom tonight. I can't lie next to Devon and pretend I'm not drowning in the memory of what we used to be.
The lights are off when I let myself in with the spare key. Katrina's asleep on the sofa, the TV casting blue shadows across her face. I grab the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over her.
She stretches but doesn't wake, and suddenly I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for her.
In the guest room, I sit on the edge of the bed and pull out the napkin. Samuel's handwriting stares back at me.
I don't know why I kept it. I don't know what I'm feeling—guilt,maybe, because misery loves company. Or maybe just because for one split second in time I didn’t feel alone.
Devon loves me. I know he does. But right now, it’s not enough.
I put the napkin in my wallet, behind my driver's license, where I won't have to look at it.
Then I lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling until my eyes finally close.
Chapter Twenty-Two
DEVON
The house was empty when I got home last night.
I waited up until midnight, then one, then two. Jade never came home after her shift finished. I texted her once—You okay?—and she replied with:Yes, I’m at Katrina's.
That's it. No explanation or even a goodnight.
I barely slept. The bed felt too big without her, the sheets cold on her side. We've been doing this for two weeks now—some nights she's here, some nights she's not. Therapy is supposed to be helping, but I can feel her slipping further away every time she chooses Katrina's guest room over our shared bed.
Then, my phone chimes, and I close my eyes. I really don’t want to look, but I have to, on the off chance it might be Jade.
UNKNOWN: I’m pregnant.
What in the name of all that’s fucking holy—Mila has lost it. Officially. She’s not the fucking Virgin Mary, I know, so she’s either been with another man, or she’s delulu.
DEVON: That's got nothing to do with me.
UNKNOWN: You blacked out, Devon. You don't know what you did. But I do.
UNKNOWN: The timing works. You’re just confused about that night... I'm stating facts.