Chapter 4

4.

Wanda Randall showed up fast.

She grabbed me by the arm without a word and steered me toward the door.

"Come on, we're getting food. You can tell me everything slowly."

She picked a little place near the hospital.

"Talk. What's actually going on? You were so vague on the phone, you had me worried sick."

I told her everything from the last two days, start to finish. Halfway through, she put down her chopsticks.

"Damn it. Did Preston get kicked in the head by a mule? You're waiting for him to come back? When he does, I swear I'll—"

"No need."

I said it flatly.

"I've made up my mind. I'm divorcing him."

Wanda looked at me for a long moment, then sighed and took my hand.

"Fine. If that's what you've decided, I'm on your side. You should've left him ages ago. You're too soft, putting up with him all these years."

We sat there from noon until past two, talking about a lot of things, and when she cursed Preston I laughed right along with her.

Before she left, she tucked a card into my bag.

"PIN's my birthday. Use it if you're in a bind. Don't be shy with me."

On the way back to the hospital, my steps were lighter than when I'd left.

The moment I pushed open the door to my room, I froze in the doorway.

My pillow had been thrown on the floor, a brown tea stain soaked into it.

The insulated cup my mother had brought was gone from the nightstand.

The sheet on the bed was rumpled into a heap, and the pillow there clearly had marks where someone had leaned on it.

I opened the cabinet. My folded change of clothes had been balled up and shoved to the very bottom, weighed down by a few silk nightgowns I'd never seen before.

Millicent's clothes already filled half the wardrobe.

I was bending down to pick up the pillow off the floor when I heard the door open behind me.

Preston and Millicent came in, chatting and laughing.

When Preston saw me, his smile stalled, then his brow creased.

"Where did you run off to? You didn't answer your phone either. Millicent wanted the soup you make, and she waited all through lunch and you never came back. Do you have any idea she sat here hungry until past one?"

I stared at him, and for a moment I didn't know what to say.

I'd been gone one lunch, and he hadn't asked whether I'd eaten, or who I'd been with. His first words were to blame me for not coming back to cook soup for the nanny.

I didn't answer him. I raised my hand and pointed at the floor.

"What happened to my things? Who threw them there?"

Millicent's hand flew to her belly at once, her face a picture of panic.

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry. At lunch I was looking for a towel, and when I went through the cabinet I didn't know where your things should go, so I asked Mr. Barrett."

"He said to just leave them on the floor. I wanted to fold them up for you, but Mr. Barrett said not to bother."

Her voice was small and wounded, but as her eyes went past Preston's shoulder and landed on my face, the corner of her mouth ticked up for a split second.

Preston spoke without a trace of concern.

"It's just a few clothes. Pick them up and it's done. Was it worth snapping at her over something this small? Millicent's in a delicate condition right now. Show a little consideration."

He added another line.

"Right, since you're back, go buy a fish. Millicent wants fish soup, and the hospital cafeteria's isn't fresh."

I looked at his face, that expression that took it all for granted, and looked again at the mess all over the floor, and felt that one more word would be a waste.

I took the papers I'd prepared out of my pocket and set them on the nightstand.

"The divorce agreement. I've already signed it. And I've changed the contact information for this room to my parents' names."

I laid the pen down beside it and said, perfectly calm: "Both of you, get out. Now."