Must Love Cats Page 8

  “Well, I wasn’t a fan of this idea. Surprises should be limited to finding food you thought you ate already and getting money in the mail.” He pats me on the back. “Your mom’s right, you’re sweaty.”

  “I’m outta shape,” I lament and walk to my bedroom to change. What I find in the mirror is a train wreck. Glitter stuck to my face. Smudged makeup, well what’s left of it. Frizzy hair. And a stain from my lunch on my shirt that I forgot about.

  Sam saw all of this.

  I glance up at the ceiling and mutter, “Really? Still throwing those punches, huh?”

  Of course she doesn’t answer.

  Fortunately, an angel has left clothes on my bed for me to change into. No doubt a pregnant angel. I strip and dress quickly, noticing the four pounds I’ve lost in the black dress. It’s a tiny bit looser than it was last year.

  I take some of the Advil I now leave in the bathroom and clean up my makeup. There’s not a lot of time to start fresh, but I add the important bits back and twist my hair into a bun. Finally, I drag down a couple of tendrils, and step back. It’s not perfect but it’s a vast improvement.

  When I’m back out in the living room, Sam approaches me with a gin martini. He looks amazing in a fitted black sweater and some charcoal slacks. He has the sleeves pulled back on the sweater and I see a bit of a design on the inside of his arm that I haven’t noticed before. He has a tattoo. His short dark hair is styled messily and he’s rocking a bit of scruff. “I hear this is your first drink since the accident.”

  “It is. Thanks,” I take the drink and sip. It’s perfect. I can taste the bit of olive water. “Did you make it?”

  “Of course. Exactly how you like it with disgusting olive water and all. Just one drink, okay? It’s harmful for a healing brain,” he says, offering me a loaded smile. It’s full of something, humor maybe. Is he laughing at me? “Happy Twenty-nine plus taxes.”

  The words bring a wide grin to my lips, matching his as he loses the battle and chuckles.

  “Happy birthday, Lil,” Brent says, walking over with his phone in his hands. “Did you see?” He holds up the pictures of Rod and Elaine in Cancun.

  “No,” I mutter and take his phone, clicking it off. “They don’t deserve our attention.” I hug him one-handed.

  “You’re right. I just can’t believe they went.”

  “Me either.” I shake my head. “It’s a damned scandal.”

  “Anyway, no mentioning those who should not be named,” Liz interrupts, rescuing us. “Let’s get these fish tacos going.” She loops her arm in mine and leads me to the large island in the kitchen and seats me at the bar stool.

  “Did you ask her for this?” I glance at Shawnee when I sit next to her.

  “I delayed my trip to Vietnam by a week for this moment. So yes.” She beams proudly. Liz’s fish tacos are Shawnee’s favorite. My fave is her chimichangas but the tacos are amazing too.

  Sam sits on the other side of me. His body is warm, and the subtle smell of his cologne hits the right and wrong places.

  And again, my hearts whispers, What if?

  It’s my birthday after all.

  If you’re going to pine after a sexy ex, what better day to do it than your birthday?

  But my mind shuts it down with a firm question that kills all desire, What if he knew the truth?

  Chapter 11

  January 29

  Cancun, Mexico

  “I still can’t believe you went,” Shawnee says into her phone’s camera. She looks angrier than she sounds.

  “I paid for the ticket and it was non-refundable. Almost two thousand dollars. Do you know how many hours at work that is? Anyway, the reason I called is this Covid thing is getting serious. Are you coming home early?” I ask, staring at her through Facetime.

  “I might be. Thailand has confirmed cases now. It’s a matter of time before the rest of Asia has them.” She winces. “I just hate not finishing, but if they lock countries down, that’s it. Is Elaine being mean?”

  “No. She’s being nice to me. Which is worse. It’s unnerving.”

  “She knows you know. You could tell Brent and ruin her. What about Rod? Is he noticing you don’t want him to touch you or be near him?”

  “I don’t think so. We haven’t had sex in a long time so it’s become the norm. But the ever-dutiful husband act hasn’t ended since we arrived here.” The whole thing is exhausting. Even on vacation where I’ve managed to avoid him more than I expected.

  “The dutiful husband act, I wish I could see that.”

  “It’s pathetic. I don’t care. You would be proud; I talked to Liz and James about their apartment in the city. I’m going to look at it when we get home.”

  “Oh my God, it’s happening. It’s real. You’re leaving!” She is far too excited about this.

  “I am. Though I’ve continued hunting for evidence a bit. Last week I heard him in the garage talking on the phone. I pressed my video on my phone to record it. He was talking about fucking her in Cancun. I thought I had him but I replayed it and I’d recorded in time-lapse.”

  “Jesus, save me from this.” She pinches her nose. “Can you please leave this man before I have an aneurysm?”

  “I’m working on it,” I say. “Can we stop talking about it?”

  “Fine.” Shawnee forces a smile on her face. “Happy birthday! I can’t believe you’re friggin' thirty-seven.”

  The number feels enormous and weighted like a blanket that drags me down with all the expectation I had for myself by this age.

  “Oh my God. We’re old. Can you please come home?” I ask, changing the subject. “This Covid is scaring me. I don’t want you stuck there or getting sick. Especially not at our age.”

  “Thirty-seven is the new twenty. But yes, I’ll figure it out this week and let you know. I love you.”

  “I love you too!” I blow her a kiss and she catches it.

  We end the call and my brain circles like a vulture over its prey.

  Thirty-seven.

  Almost forty.

  Almost separated.

  Still twenty pounds overweight.

  No kids.

  No pets.

  The weighted blanket is sitting on my chest when my sister calls with a Facetime message a few minutes later.

  “Hey,” I answer, putting on my happy birthday face.

  “I know I already said happy birthday earlier, but Dad and I were at the Home Depot after dinner tonight. And he ran into this lady he used to work with. Tina?”

  “I don’t know her.” This is a weird thing to call all the way to Mexico for.

  “Anyway, Dad asks how she is and she says she’s getting a divorce. She caught her wife cheating, something to do with an app.”

  “An app?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Tina was snooping on her wife’s phone and found this weird app she didn’t recognize. She tried to hack it but couldn’t get in. Being a cop, she was sneaky and used her sleeping wife’s thumb to open it and sure enough it was this whole other dashboard.”

  “What?” My happy face is gone and my heart is in a vice again.

  “Yup. It’s a secret dashboard where all her phone calls, pictures, and everything related to the number of the wife’s girlfriend went. It was locked behind this secret dashboard in the app.”

  “Sneaky,” I say, contemplating that.

  “Which I will bet is why you haven’t found anything. Rod and Elaine use one of these apps. Apparently, there are a dozen of them.”

  “That makes sense. That’s why he offered me his phone last time I asked questions,” I agree, glancing at the door to the room when I hear a click. “Anyway, I should probably get going. I miss you. I’ll see if I can check out that thing though.” I wink into the screen so she can see.

  “Love you.” She makes a kissy face.

  “Bye.” I wave and tap it off, lifting my gaze to Rod who staggers.

  An app?

  My stare fixes on his phone, which rarely leaves his ha
nds.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Jusss fine,” he slurs and staggers into the bathroom, taking the phone with him.

  When he closes the door, I Google the app. There are tons of them.

  “What is wrong with this world,” I whisper and scroll through the list. I’ve read multiple blogs when he is finally done.

  Rod flushes and staggers out of the bathroom, hitting the bed in his clothes. It’s nine at night and he is completely wasted. What the hell has he been doing since I came in here after dinner?

  I can’t imagine what I’ve missed by pretending not to feel well. On my own damned birthday. At least it’s our last night here.

  He continues to grip his phone when the first snore leaves his spit-covered lips. Grimacing, I realize he’s thrown up.

  He snores loudly as I turn out the lights and crawl onto the bed, using the light of the fire alarm and clock to guide me. I find the phone and pry it from his damp fingers, trying not to gag.

  It takes a second but I get it free and use his thumb to unlock it. Heart racing and fingers trembling, I hurry into the bathroom and close the door. I navigate through the phone, not sure what I’m looking for until I see it.

  “Holy shit.”

  It’s the holy grail of philandered spouses everywhere.

  The app icon is exactly what I saw on the internet.

  Nervously, I tap it and prepare to walk back out to get his fingerprint again but this one has a pin.

  I contemplate what his pin could be. It’s four digits. Taking a guess, I enter the one he uses for his bank card. The phone vibrates when it’s rejected and the camera comes on, taking a picture of me. My startled face in the dark bathroom flashes once on the screen before the app locks up.

  “Fuck!” I whisper.

  My heart is racing as I call my sister on my phone. She doesn’t get a chance to say anything.

  “He has the app. The stock photo one. I tried the pin and it’s taken a picture of me and now I can’t get it open. It’s a pin I don’t know and I don’t know what to do. He’s passed out drunk.”

  “Take the phone and throw it in the ocean,” she says randomly.

  “What?”

  “No.” She cackles. “Pull the sim card and pee in the toilet and put the phone in there. Let it stay waterlogged overnight. He’ll think he dropped it in the pee and ruined the phone.”

  “You’re kinda evil,” I mutter with a nod, realizing this is why my entire childhood was spent fearing her. “Love you.”

  “You too.” I end the call and stare at the phone. Typical me, I have to Google how to remove the sim card. When I get it out I snap it in half like in the spy movies and put it in the garbage bin under the other trash.

  My heart is in my throat as I sit on the toilet. I can’t relax and pee so I open my puzzle app on my own phone and start doing the word puzzle. It takes a whole level for me to calm down enough for a pee. I wipe and put the paper in the garbage can where the sim card is. Rod never uses paper.

  Standing up, I turn the phone on and delicately place it in the pee water. The screen stays lit, showing the message that there is no sim card in. It doesn’t go out.

  I wait but nothing happens.

  The sim card message is still there.

  I Google what will happen if the phone doesn’t turn off and cringe when I find a few studies have shown iPhones can last in the water and be dried out and will work normally. He will know I took the sim card out if he takes the phone in.

  “Shit,” I whisper and realize what I’m going to have to do. It takes more bravery to reach into my own pee and pull the phone out. I wash us both for minutes before drying off the phone with Rod’s shower towel. Then I hurry to the dresser where I left the key card and slip out the sliding door to the patio.

  It’s warm and breezy and dark but it doesn’t soothe the anxiety that’s giving me something resembling a heart attack.

  Staying in the shadows, I speed walk down the path to the beach. I contemplate hopping from palm tree to palm tree but imagine there is a security system watching this. That forces me try to be cooler about the shady-ass decision I’m making.

  The waves of the ocean are calm compared to earlier. I stare at the phone in the fading moonlight. This is the most dishonest thing I’ve done. Ever.

  I grasp the flat phone, wondering if there is any way back from this. But I doubt it. I throw as hard as I can, flinging the phone into the rolling waves of the dark ocean.

  “You know that’s going to come into shore, right?” a man asks from behind me, making me jump.

  “Ahh!” I turn and scowl. “Make some noise.”

  “Sorry. But the tide’s coming in. It’s gonna bring the phone back in.”

  “Not before we leave tomorrow,” I say smugly and walk away.

  “No, legit. It’ll be there by morning.”

  “Okay, well it won’t matter,” I snap and walk away, deflated and exhausted. It’s the weirdest birthday I’ve ever had.

  Chapter 12

  February 14

  “You still coming to the company party tomorrow night?” Simone asks as she pops her head in my doorway.

  “Oh uhm—” I try to imagine the party—our annual cabin fever party—with Rod who has avoided me and the office and shake my head. “No. I’m lucky I’m not sleeping here at night with it being tax season.”

  “It’s going to be epic.” She rolls her eyes then leans in more and lowers her voice, “I hate that you’re not coming, but Rod is. And we both know he’s going to get drunk and act like an ass.”

  “Yeah.” I contemplate that for a moment. “And it’s no longer my problem.” That’s a freeing thought.

  “You’ve dodged a real bullet here. Has he spoken to you yet?”

  “No. Fifty-two days and counting.” I press my lips together for a second. “My sister told him he’s to speak to me through lawyers only, or she will decapitate his offending organ.” I try not to laugh but it’s impossible.

  Simone giggles. “I’ve always said your sister is my kind of girl.”

  “She’s insane and the threat is real. He’s taking it to heart. He did actually send me a separation agreement which I had my new team of lawyers amend and send back. He didn’t argue on any of the points, so it was easy to get done.”

  “Second smart thing he ever did next to marrying you.” She winks. “So, he didn’t come to the hospital when you were hurt, hasn’t sent flowers or even a card to say sorry for fucking someone else? No Christmas gift or ‘fuck you’ or anything? New Year’s was a no show. And now it’s February and he’s got nothing to say?” Her words are tiny knives stabbing into my soul.

  “No,” I manage to get out. “My only satisfaction is knowing he was outed for the affair. He tried so hard to convince me I was nuts when I suspected something.”

  “What a jerk. And your birthday was end of January. Didn’t he go away?” She keeps them coming.

  “Mexico,” I mutter, still shocked he went with Elaine.

  “Piece of garbage. Did you know he was such a coward and a loser?” Simone holds nothing back, which normally I find funny. Because ordinarily it’s someone else’s life we’re discussing as mine has traditionally been far too boring to mock.

  “I think I might have and tolerated it because—” I can’t say it.

  “Because love is a traitorous bastard and it’s terrifying to start over at a certain age.” She nods, aware of the sting of betrayal. She was in my shoes only two years ago when her wife left her for a much younger woman.

  “I’m glad I’m single though. Now.”

  “Me too. And I hope you have a happy Valentine’s Day where you get to eat all the chocolates.” She winks.

  “Thanks. And I hope you have a happy one as well.” A thought occurs to me. “Shit, it was your birthday last week, wasn’t it? A week after mine.”

  “It was and it was great.” She sounds sarcastic. “My parents had a party and got me some white-gold earrings an
d Mom tried to hook me up with her dentist.”

  “Oh, is she hot?” I am relieved to finally be discussing her love life.

  “No, he’s a perfectly nice man but—”

  “Right.” I chuckle.

  “My mom’s lecture after everyone left included the sentence, ‘Isn’t being Jewish hard enough, why do you have to add being a lesbian?’”

  “No.” I shake my head gingerly. “No, she didn’t.”

  “Oh yes. The sad part is it’s not my worst birthday. Not even close.”

  “God, I’m sorry, Simone.”

  “Two peas in a pod.” She sighs. “So when you’re free from all this work, let’s get drinks and lament about our lives.”

  “Deal.” I get up from my desk and give her a hug.

  She hugs back gently. “If Rod makes a huge ass of himself, I’ll record it and save it for when you’re in the mood to laugh at him.”

  “Thanks, girl.”

  She squeezes and walks out, waving back at me. She’s right, love is a traitorous bastard.

  I grab my things and sneak out of the building through my sneaky exit, hoping no one notices me. When I’m halfway home, regretting walking in the cold rain, I get a text from Liz.

  Drinks at Public House?

  I almost say yes but stop myself. I’m still having headaches and dizzy spells. Keeping my drinking to a minimum is necessary for my brain to heal.

  I send her a text back, deflecting. It’s Valentine’s, don’t you guys have plans?

  Yeah, we were going to get drinks with you.

  No. I text back. If you want to, we can eat at my place. I’ll make you dinner. Make Mom watch the girls and bring James.

  She texts a thumbs up and I detour to the market to buy some things to throw together a quick pasta. It’s cold and wet and bleak and I’m drenched in icy rain by the time I arrive home. I am tired of winter.

  When they arrive at my place, I have a baked spaghetti in the oven and am just spreading the garlic butter over the potato bread I got.

  Liz knocks and I hurry for the door, opening it with a smile as James hurries from the elevator. “Hi.”