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The Lawyer’s Husband

Page 90

by Robin James

“Hello, Mina,” he said, his tone urgent.

“Have you spoken to Lock?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

“He’s not picking up for you either?” I asked.

“You know I’ve been really worried about him.”

I debated what to tell him. I could not risk another person gaslighting me. Eli was my friend, but I would never forget his core loyalty was to Lock.

“Yes,” I said. “Can I just… Eli, if he calls you, will you let me know? I don’t want you to feel like I’m putting you in the middle of anything. You were right the other day. Things at work for me have been very difficult. I can’t go into the details on it. And I don’t want you to betray any confidences you share with Lock. But if he’s told you something about me, just know there are two sides to everything, okay?”

Eli stayed silent for a moment. “Okay,” he finally said.

“Can I trust you to tell me the truth?” I asked. “Because I have to ask you something. Do you know whether Lock is having an affair?”

More dead silence from Eli. It felt like an answer. Had Eli known all along? Is that why Lock hadn’t been upset about Eli screwing the event planner in the office? Were they covering for each other this whole time?

“Have you seen him with someone?” Eli asked. Not a denial.

“I can’t… I’m sorry. I can’t give you details. And I know that sounds like a cop-out, given what I just asked you.”

“I don’t know, Mina. That’s all I can say. But I have to ask you the same thing. If you hear from Lock, will you please let me know?”

Should I tell him Lock asked to see me tonight? I just could not trust that Eli wasn’t covering for Lock. It had been a mistake to call him. I don’t know what I hoped to accomplish.

“What has he told you?” I asked.

“I’m sorry. I think I need to stay out of your marriage. I asked you to stay out of mine. Just… I’m his friend. No matter what. Tell him that.”

“And I’m his wife, Eli.”

We said goodbye. I don’t know what I expected. Eli wouldn’t be on my side. Lock was going to get what he wanted. When we spoke again, it would be on his terms.

I drove back to the house. I’d been a fool not to stand my ground. Fury fueled me as I pulled up to the front door. My tires screeched as I came to a violent stop. I clicked the garage door opener.

Nothing happened.

I clicked it again. Still nothing. He’d already had the code changed. It was only three o’clock. He told me to meet him at six. I went to the front door. Palms sweating, I tried my key. My heart started beating again when the door swung open.

I walked inside. The house was dark. I usually opened the shades first thing in the morning. I hadn’t been here for days to do it.

I turned every light switch on as I passed them. The kitchen was just as I had left it. My coffee cup was upside down on the drying rack. My chair had been pulled slightly away from the kitchen table from when I’d eaten lunch there earlier in the week.

I went to the bedroom. Nothing was disturbed. The bed still had a depression on my side where I had sat and put on my shoes the morning I left.

Lock hadn’t been here either. His closet was undisturbed. His suitcases weren’t in the corner where he usually left them when he returned from a trip.

As I went through each room, a lump hardened in my throat. This house held the life we built. We redecorated the entire wing right after we got married, changing the dingy browns and caramels his father liked to brighter, more hopeful colors. Blue, yellow, green, pink.

Finally, I found myself in Lock’s study. His scent filled my head, bringing a stab of pain straight through my heart.

This couldn’t be happening. It was another night terror and I just hadn’t woken up. Flashes of those photographs played in my mind. Lock making love to another woman. Doing things to her he did to me.

Anger roiled through me. It came to a head and I swept my arm violently across Lock’s desk, scattering papers, pens, and knick-knacks across the room.

Lock’s laptop sat at the center of his blotter. Fingers trembling, I fired it up. I don’t know what I expected to find, but I still had all the passcodes he gave me when we’d argued that first time. He called me paranoid.