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  Shawnee snorts, wiping her own face as the door closes again. Her laughter makes me giggle.

  It takes a second for us both to bust up. I’m barely able to get my breath, and it’s not the nicest feeling, but I can’t control the hysterics and she seems as lost in them as I am.

  The door opens again.

  “What’s so funny? Are you guys getting high out here?” my sister asks from the gap. “God, this baby is ruining all the fun. I could go for some weed right now. Is it edibles? Did the hospital give it to you?”

  Her questions make us laugh harder.

  “I hate you both!” She points and goes back inside.

  Shawnee falls off the chair and my laughter loses sound. It hurts so much I wish I could stop but I can’t. The laughing is making my throbbing head much worse.

  We laugh at nothing and everything, and I think I clear some of the weird numbness out with the painful giggles.

  It finally ends and we sit in silence for a minute. That laugh has exhausted me beyond repair.

  “I wanted you to leave him so bad,” she says and wipes her eyes. “But maybe not this bad.”

  “It’s a less than ideal way to end a marriage. Even a crappy one.”

  “Come on, let’s go inside.” She helps me stand.

  “I need to go to bed,” I whisper.

  “Of course, you do,” she says and assists me inside, getting the door as I cross the living room. I make my way to where I think I recall the bedroom being.

  “Your sister wanted it done first,” Shawnee says. “Like I said, cyborg.”

  I open the door and gasp. The room is almost identical to the one on my Pinterest page, including the twinkle lights around the full-sized standing mirror in the corner next to the large windows with white floor-length curtains that pool on the floor. The furniture is all whitewashed restored wood and oversized. The bed is a queen with a white lacy duvet cover that looks so fluffy and soft. There’s a sizable rug under the bed about halfway that matches the pale blue lamps.

  “What the hell?” I mutter, mesmerized by the room I’d always wished for, down to the cartoonish paintings of women in fashionable clothes with long cigarettes and miniscule waists.

  “Last night Liz said you needed bedroom furniture so Brent called two friends who own furniture places, and she went shopping and bought out their displays. Brent paid for it all. Said you couldn’t sleep in your old bedroom furniture, in case Rod—”

  “Right,” I cut her off, not wanting to have that conversation. “God, how did you all accomplish this? And over Christmas? I feel sick. Everyone is missing their holiday.”

  “They wanted to. Even the shop owners were happy to help. The truck rental gave it to Brent at half price. Liz organized like fifteen people here earlier. It was insane.” She walks to the walk-in closet and opens it. My clothes are there, organized and put away. “Cyborg,” she whispers with wide eyes and a smidge of humor.

  “I can’t believe this. I don’t know how to repay everyone. And I’m too tired to think about it. I need a shower.” I walk to the en suite bathroom and slip my arm out of the splint carefully, letting Shawnee help me take off the foam collar.

  “How long do you need to wear all this?”

  “The sling until Sunday. I have to rest in bed for the week until light stops bugging my eyes. The foam collar I can take off tomorrow. He says I need to move my neck muscles so they don’t tighten up.”

  “He—Sam?” She smiles at me in the mirror. “How crazy was that? God, he looks good.”

  “That was awkward. He was nice and super sweet but why him of all the doctors in Canada? Like does God hate me?”

  “After yesterday, it’s up in the air. You’ve clearly done something to piss her off,” she says with a nod.

  “That’s my thinking too. I can’t imagine what it is.” I unbutton my shirt and slip it off and struggle out of my pants as she walks out, leaving the door slightly ajar. Every movement needs a pause or a breath so I don’t pass out.

  I stare for a minute and take in my reflection.

  My forehead is swollen as though I’m the missing link in evolution. It’s bruised and ugly. I touch it gingerly with my fingertips, shocked that it’s my body at all. But the pain reminds me it’s real. My right eye is puffy, more than the left, though they’re both swollen from crying. There’s a seat belt bruise along my shoulder that was dislocated. My neck looks thicker than normal too.

  All in all, it feels much worse than it looks. Which is saying something. But the hot water of the shower is restorative and healing, despite the wounded wing and inability to wash my hair adequately.

  My heart wants so badly to take a journey through the last twenty-four hours but my brain refuses, no doubt sensing the danger that would present.

  Instead, I focus on not passing out with exhaustion.

  I don’t bother with pajamas. Honestly, it’s not worth the effort. Instead, I let Shawnee put the neck brace on again and walk to the bed. She pulls back the covers and fluffs them.

  “How was that?”

  “Amazing.” I wince getting into the silky sheets my sister has no doubt washed four times to ensure softness. It takes effort and weird pillow fluffing for me to get comfortable.

  “You need anything else?”

  “Painkillers and water, please.”

  “Okay.” She bends down and mini hugs me. “I’m glad you’re okay. You scared the shit out of me. We will be discussing it at a later date when you’re feeling better. Just like we’ll be talking about Rod when you’re ready.”

  “Okay. And I’m sorry I scared you. I can’t believe I froze up.”

  “I can’t believe old Helen ratted his ass out like that. I take back all my shit talking about her. That car was a legend.”

  “Aww,” I moan, remembering she is dead. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

  “Yeah, she’s in rough shape.” She offers a sympathetic stare. “I’ll get your mom and those drugs.”

  “Thanks,” I reply.

  She winks and leaves me there, frozen and not moving for fear of stabbing pain.

  Less than two minutes later, my dad enters with a glass of water and a bottle of pills. “Hey, kid. Here. Your mom said the pharmacist told her two pills before bed. But don’t take them except at bedtime. They cause mild drowsiness and it’s not great for the concussion.”

  “Awesome.” I sound as bitter as I am.

  “Right,” he agrees before helping me take the pills and placing the glass on the bedside table next to me. “Room’s nice, eh? Liz is living on pure hatred at this point, and Brent—that guy has spent a fortune today. I tried to pay for everything but he insisted. He’s crazy rich, isn’t he?”

  I smile and nod slightly.

  “You shoulda married him.” He laughs softly. “Liz is going to stay over and sleep with you. The doctor would prefer it.”

  “Okay.” I try to settle in again and get comfortable, but the aches and pains and reality of this bullshit moment seem like too much.

  Until the drugs kick in.

  Then I can’t see anything but feel my dad tuck my stuffed bear, Leo, into my good arm and a swirling world of darkness takes me.

  If I dream, it’s lost in the haze of being stoned off my butt.

  A feeling I suspect I’ll have to get used to.

  Chapter 5

  December 25

  I wake to the smell of bacon cooking. Certain I’m dreaming, I roll over to find Rod gone. I check my phone to see it’s nine in the morning and I’ve missed four calls from Shawnee. She’s clearly raring to go on the planning part of this all.

  I call her as I get up and pull on my robe. “Hey, Merry Christmas,” I mutter.

  “Don’t you Merry Christmas me, Lil!” she snaps. “Did you confront him and tell him you want to see his phone? Have you started packing his shit?”

  “No, it’s Christmas morning and he’s making bacon. I can’t just walk in there and demand to see his text and cal
l history while he’s cooking breakfast. He’s never actually done that before.” I peek out the door to ensure he’s nowhere near this part of the house. “I need proof before I say anything else to him,” I whisper. “He offered his defense yesterday and it sounded believable, to him. If I come at him and call him a liar, I need a reason for it beyond my hunch.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s what being married is,” I say harshly.

  “These are delay tactics. I don’t know why you feel the need to be vindicated or to stay until you have things figured out. Just leave! Come stay with me.”

  “He’s not going to talk his way back with me, Shawnee. I’m done. And I love you and how much you worry about me. I promise, I am trying to figure out what to do. I’ll see you tomorrow at your parents’ house. We can talk then.”

  “Fine. But I’m holding you to this.”

  “Love you.” I click the phone off before she has a chance to argue with any more of her common sense. I should just leave and never look back. But I need a plan. And deep down, I want to see his face when I show him he never fooled me.

  She texts a heart and I send a smile, knowing she’s on my side regardless of what happens.

  Pushing it all aside, I make my way to the kitchen, forcing a pleasant look on my face when he sees me. “Good morning,” I say as if yesterday didn’t happen. “I didn’t know you knew how to cook bacon.”

  “Merry Christmas.” He grins. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” he retorts cheekily but it hits differently today. He shakes his head when he sees my face. “That’s not what I meant. I Googled it, okay? I don’t know how to cook bacon. I just thought I might get a head start on the eggs Benny.” He rushes at me, pulling me into his arms and burying his face in my neck, inhaling me. “I am so sorry about yesterday. I should have told you about my history with Elaine. I just figured it happened before us, so it didn’t matter.”

  This is new. He never apologizes first. He’s trying to throw me off the scent.

  “Does Brent know?” I ask, trying not to sound heartless. But his story about Elaine trying to lure him into an affair only makes sense if Brent is aware of the relationship. How else would her calling up Rod every Christmas torment Brent?

  “About me and Elaine before he even met her?” He pulls back, staring down on me with disbelief. “No. When he brought her around and I realized who she was, he was already smitten and convinced she was the one. I couldn’t do that to him.”

  He is such a liar. And worse, he thinks I honestly am this stupid?

  I guess I have been.

  Trying not to react, I stay with the line of questioning. “You let him date her even though you knew what she was like already?”

  He exhales slowly, maybe thinking about the answer. “I knew she wasn’t the type of girl you married. But he was in love so I let it be. Not my circus, not my monkey, ya know?” He holds me to him again. “And it’s still not our business. I will tell Elaine not to call me or text me ever again and that you know about her advances. That should embarrass her enough to stop doing it.”

  “She knows I know, Rod.” I wiggle free, returning the look of disbelief as I’m stunned that he is going to these lengths to lie. “Did she not tell you when the Bluetooth connected again to your car that I’d heard her?”

  “No. She got off the phone in a hurry, said Brent was home. I was just grateful she was done making a fool of herself.” He shrugs and glances back at the oven. “I think it’s time to take it out.”

  I have to count backward from ten before I speak. “Let me deal with this.” I pat him on the arm and turn to the oven, seeing the bacon is at least ten minutes away from being done. Ten minutes of alone time if he leaves the kitchen now.

  “Okay. I’ll get started sorting the gifts and stockings.” He’s so cheerful it hurts my head.

  I pour myself a coffee and add Baileys, telling myself it’s Christmas and not a justification for drinking away my sorrows and suspicions to make it through the week of family and parties and company.

  Because like I said to Shawnee, I need proof.

  Irrefutable proof.

  I just don’t know where to get it.

  Until I do, I have no intention of letting this die. Or letting him talk his way back with me.

  But for now, it’s Christmas morning and the bacon’s done and breakfast needs to be made. At least that’s what I tell myself as I whip up a batch of hollandaise from scratch.

  Chapter 6

  December 31

  “You sure you’ll be all right?” Liz asks from the car as I stare at my office building with trepidation and a heavy dose of painkillers and second-guessing. “No one would judge you for taking another week off, Lil.”

  “It’s fine,” I lie and turn back awkwardly, still stiff. “Thank you for the ride. And sorry for being such a needy pain in the ass. I’m going car shopping as soon as I’m cleared by the doc.”

  “Oh my God, stop. It’s a week after Christmas and your—” She pauses, stopping herself before she says that my husband left me. Again. “You have never been a pain in the ass or needed anyone. This is refreshing for me to get to be a big sister to you—properly. I’ve technically waited my whole life for this,” she jokes and tries to play it off as something much lighter than it is.

  “Okay.” I sigh, hating that I’m so sore and bruised. A week in bed has been revitalizing but I’m only about fifty percent better. “I should go. It’s freezing. See you later.”

  “You want a ride home? The offer to come to our place for New Year’s is still there.” She leans farther toward the open door.

  “No,” I say with a shiver. “I can get a cab or walk. It’s literally ten minutes. Some light walking and fresh air might be nice.”

  “Is Shawnee coming over?”

  “No, I told her I just want to sleep and try to get settled. She had plans already anyway with her single friends.” I pause, realizing I am now one of them.

  “Well, I don’t know if you should spend New Year’s alone.”

  “It’s fine, Liz. Go home and put your feet up and let James make your New Year’s feast. My God woman, you are a machine. You’ve been running two houses for a week, and you hardly saw your kids at Christmas. I will never forgive myself for this.”

  “None of this is your fault.” She points at me.

  “I know, and I love you and am so grateful you’re my sister. Thank you. Happy New Year!” I blow a kiss and close the door gently before she can say anything else.

  Her smother mothering me has finally reached its expiry date, but I can’t be ungrateful. Not after everything she’s done for me this week. She really is the best sister, and I haven’t a clue how to repay her for this kindness. Or Brent for all his money spent.

  But she is wrong about one thing. A lot of this is my fault.

  I was foolish to stay and waste my life and my time, letting Rod talk his way back into my heart so many times. My suspicions were always there, in the back of my mind. But I told myself I would come up with a plan to leave more times than I can count. And I never did. In the end, he had to leave me.

  Humiliated and fighting everything that tells me to go home, I take several deep breaths, stand tall, as tall as my stiff neck will allow, and walk for the front doors of the property management office I’ve worked at for thirteen years. The office where I got Rod a job ten years ago after he was laid off from his job in sales. The office where I’m sure every single person already knows whatever Rod has told them.

  I’d love to be at home, pretending the world doesn’t exist, as I have for a whole week already, but I need my job now more than ever. I don’t have the cushion of a second income to pay for half my life.

  “Lilly, are you all right?” Janice, the front desk clerk, rushes to get the front door for me but, fortunately, halts her hug attack when she sees my forehead. “Oh God, does it hurt?”

  “A lot.” I give a pleasant expression and hope she loses the
overly concerned stare. Her fixation on the purple mark suggests I didn’t cover it up as well as Liz said I did.

  “You poor dear. I can’t believe you were rear-ended. And on Christmas Eve. I know I almost bit it a couple of times that night. The roads were awful.” She takes my hand and squeezes gently. “If you need anything, I’m here.”

  “Thanks. I should probably get to work though. I imagine the proverbial pile on my desk is outrageous,” I joke and squeeze back before making my way to my office. It takes three quarters of an hour to get there. I’m slow and being stopped every couple of feet by a concerned coworker.

  No one mentions Rod.

  The car accident. Check.

  Christmas. Check.

  Car shopping. Check.

  Lies about hardly noticing the bruise on my face. Check. Check.

  But not one comment about my husband.

  I wonder if a memo went out, forbidding speaking about it like the time Tammy and Darin, two property managers got caught having sex in the disabled men’s washroom.

  By the time I reach my desk, my face is flushed, my heart’s hammering in my chest, and my mouth is dry. Fortunately, there is no sight of Rod. Either he’s avoiding me or the office. I pray it’s the latter.

  My fingers tremble as I pull the lid off my water bottle and take a deep gulp of the cool sparkling water Liz made me. She bought me a SodaStream for Christmas, as if the whole move wasn’t enough.

  “Lilly, can we come in?” my boss, Matt, asks from the doorway as I get settled into my chair.

  “Yes, please.” I try to stand to offer him a seat, but my legs refuse the effort. His sister Doreen is right behind him. The two of them inherited the property management company from their grandfather and run it together.

  “Hi, darling,” Doreen says as she closes the door and gives that same sympathetic smile everyone has. “How are you?”