The Deal, the Dance, and the Devil (30 page)

I was relieved when he returned in less than ninety minutes with two huge bags from Staples. Not much of an affair could be carried on in an office supply store in that small bit of time.

I knew these doubts were ridiculous, and really, I tried to talk myself out of them. But once Adam came home and marched straight into his office, there was nothing I could do to turn off the suspicion, the new fears that stirred inside me.

Even after the twins and Ethan were in their rooms, Adam stayed behind closed doors in the office. I went to the door, knowing that I had to reach out, knowing that Adam and I had so much to talk about. But I couldn’t bring myself to knock, and I couldn’t open the door. All of our wonderful years of marriage had come to this. After one weekend, my tongue was as tied up as my heart.

Why couldn’t he feel me there, and rush out, and hold me, and tell me that our world was coming back to normal? After long minutes of silence, I gave up my post outside the office.

I dragged myself back into our bedroom, undressed, and slipped into bed, waiting for my husband, my real husband, to join me.

But my husband never came. I stared at the ticking clock, watched minutes pass into the new day, and now it was after two in the morning. There was nothing good that he could be doing in his office even if this wasn’t about Shay-Shaunté. Even if this was only about me not trusting him, it wasn’t good for Adam to be away from our bed like this.

I got up, covered my nakedness, then traipsed down the hall. I knocked on the door, then stepped inside, not waiting for him to answer.

I’d expected Adam to be sitting behind his desk, reading or sulking. But the light was out, and even though I couldn’t see him, I felt him. Stepping further inside, I found the pallet that he’d made, and I shook my head.

Kneeling beside him, I watched his chest rise and fall, then I tucked myself next to him. In his sleep, he stirred. I backed it up, my back to his front. Wiggled my butt, and he wrapped his arm around me. Pulled me closer and held me the way he used to.

My real husband.

I sighed.

This floor was hard and cold, but not unfamiliar to us. How many times had we made love in here? Just like every other room in the house—save the children’s spaces—we had christened it with our love.

Those memories made me want to stay inside Adam’s arms, on the floor, saying nothing. But I could feel him, and I knew that he was awake. That meant we had to talk.

“There’s so much to tell you,” I whispered into the dark.

There was a pause before, “I don’t want to fight.”

Rolling over, I faced him. There was only the pin light from the smoke detector above, but it was enough because I could feel his eyes without seeing them completely.

“I’m sorry. I never should have doubted you. I should have believed you.”

I felt his relief and he pulled me close, held me tighter.

And I sighed again.

But there was more to say. I had to forget about our love for just a moment. I had to take this back to business. So, with my head resting on his chest, I told him, “The check Shay-Shaunté gave you yesterday, it was only for a quarter of a million dollars.”

“What happened to the rest?”

“She took out taxes.”

He stiffened and I braced myself, ready for his rampage. He said, “She didn’t say anything about taxes.”

“I said the same thing.”

I felt his head nod. I heard his sigh. Then I sensed his resignation before he said, “I guess there’s nothing we can do.”

That’s not what I wanted to hear, but I was going to stay in this place of peace. Raising myself up, I looked down at him. “I told her that she had to give us all the money or I would quit. Just walk out and not wait for the six months to pass.”

He shook his head. “You can’t; we have to finish the deal.”

I rose even further. Sat straight up and scooted away from him a little bit. “It’s finished if she’s going to cheat us out of two million.”

His voice was stronger now. “She’s not cheating us … not really. Someone has to pay the taxes.”

Every part of me got tight. “Are you taking up for her?”

Adam rolled over and pushed himself up. Said nothing as he walked away from me, toward his desk, and clicked on the lamp.

In the light, he looked straight into my face. “You’ve gotta stop thinking that there’s something going on between me and Shay-Shaunté.”

“What am I supposed to think? You should be as upset about this as I am.”

“I am,” he said. “But there’s nothing you or I can do.”

“I can stop working. If she wants to play games, I can quit tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “You do that and she’ll sue us.”

“She said she would, but I don’t believe her.”

His eyes widened just a bit, as if he was surprised. As if he was only talking in theory. “Well then,” his words came out in a sigh, “you have your answer.”

“She won’t do it.”

“We can’t take that chance.”

I shook my head.

He said, “We have to play it out. For six months. I did my part, now you have to do yours.”

Adam stood as if he had no plans to fight. But Adam Langston was a warrior—he’d been about winning his whole life. So, what was different now? Why was he giving in? Why had the weekend changed him so much?

“Adam, what happened this—”

I didn’t even get the words out. “We’re not going to talk about it.”

“We have to,” I said, sitting firm. “Because you’re different. And because Shay-Shaunté said some things.”

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “What things?”

I saw the way his body stiffened, but I kept the conversation going. “She talked about our children, and our mothers. She talked as if she knew us.” I took a breath and added, “She talked to me as if you’d talked to her.”

He stayed still and stared blankly, as if he was waiting for the question.

“Did you … talk to her?”

“I was there … with her … for the weekend,” his words stumbled out. “We talked … of course … we talked.”

From the pit of my stomach, the lump rose slowly until it rested in my throat. “About us?” I could hardly speak. “About our family.”

“No, never about our family. Nothing about us.”

I breathed. Okay. Well, he’d answered one question, but I needed to know so much more. “Where did you go? What did you do? Did you—” The questions tumbled out, but before I finished asking the first one, Adam was already shaking his head.

“We agreed never to talk about this.”

It was only because I wanted to keep the peace that I waved my white flag and said, “Okay,” even though it wasn’t okay with me. But then I added, “I can’t work with her, though. Not if I don’t know what happened.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s hard for me to look at her and … not see you. It’s like the two of you share a secret now.”

“There’s no secret, Evia,” he said, punching me again with my name. His eyes bore into mine when he said, “You know what happened.”

Well, I’d asked for it. And now it was a fact. Yes, it was dumb, but until Adam actually said it, a small, small part of me could believe that nothing really happened. That I was still his and he was still mine.

But that wasn’t true anymore.

Pushing myself up, I said, “We should go to bed.”

His eyes were glassy. As if he wanted to cry because of the hurt his words had caused. But he had only spoken the truth.

He clicked off the light, then, side by side, we walked to our bedroom. Together we disrobed and then, together, we slipped into bed.

But he stayed on his side and I held on to my edge. And tonight the distance between us didn’t even bother me.

Chapter 50

T
HE WORLD HAD FALLEN OFF ITS
axle.

For real, because that was the only way to explain why Adam and I were so disconnected. We were miles apart in our bed, in our conversations, in our thoughts. And that explained why for a third time in two days Adam left the house while the children were eating to make a run.

At Ferossity, the madness continued.

The once aloof boss was now walking among us, talking among us, and constantly in my face. All morning, I was accidentally bumping into her, though in my soul, I knew all the accidental meetings were set up by her.

It started first thing this morning. I was minding my business; I had just parked my car and was trying to get out of the wind whipping across the lot. I was rushing toward the building, head down, fighting to get inside fast. I reached for the door, but someone’s hand grabbed the handle before I did.

“Hey, Evia,” Shay-Shaunté said when I looked up.

Frankly, I was stunned to see her. It was clear that she was just getting in—she had that fresh look of the morning all over her. But why was she just arriving at nine? What happened to her believing that she needed to be the first person in the office?

“This is going to be a wonderful day,” she continued talking with way too much cheer for me. Continued talking as if I cared. “I am loving 2011!”

I glanced at the staircase and thought walking up the twelve flights might be easier than riding in the elevator with Shay-Shaunté. But since I didn’t have that kind of energy, I just grinned and beared it, and prayed that in the elevator, God’s grace would help me keep my hands off her neck.

Then, less than thirty minutes later, she showed up in the bathroom.

“Hey, Evia!” she said, like she was so happy to see me.

But the killer was when I thought I’d found a surefire way to get away from Shay-Shaunté, even for just a few minutes. I bounced into the break room, ready to hide out and relax, and who was in there?

She was chatting it up with Rachel. I turned around, hoping to sneak out, but Rachel caught me.

“Hey, girl! You decided to get some coffee?”

I pivoted and pasted a plastic smile onto my face. “Yeah, I needed a break,” I said to Rachel and acted like Shay-Shaunté wasn’t there. I grabbed the coffeepot.

“Well, Shay-Shaunté and I,” Rachel said as I began pouring, “were just talking about her birthday.”

“Ouch!” I yelled out as the steaming liquid overflowed from the cup onto my hand.

“Girl,” Rachel said, coming to my rescue and pulling the pot away from me. “What you trying to do?”

I blew on the red-hot spot on my hand. Right in between
my thumb and forefinger—the same place where I’d cut myself three nights before.

“You need to be more careful,” Shay-Shaunté said.

I rolled my eyes.

As I blotted up the coffee on the counter, Rachel continued, “So, like I said, I was just asking Shay-Shaunté about her big day.”

I took a small sip and worked to keep my eyes on Rachel.

“Yes,” Shay-Shaunté began. “Rachel seems very interested in how I spent my birthday.”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to be nosy or anything.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Shay-Shaunté said, as if she hadn’t once been the most private person on earth. “You’re just interested, right?”

“Yeah.” Rachel nodded, not having a clue that she was being used. “So, how was it?”

Shay-Shaunté leaned against the counter, casually, like she was one of us. “Well, I don’t believe in kissing and telling …”

Oh, God!

“But let’s just say I had more than just a lovely birthday. I had an amazing weekend.”

“Really!” Rachel giggled.

I wanted to slap her for laughing.

Rachel asked, “So, is this Mr.-Kiss-But-Don’t-Tell someone special?”

I’d tortured myself enough. “I’m going back to my office,” I said.

Shay-Shaunté said, “Wait, don’t you want to hear about it?”

I didn’t know where this test was coming from—if it was from God or the devil. Or maybe it was just Shay-Shaunté. Maybe she was
trying
to get me to quit. Maybe she
wanted
to see me in court.

But I wasn’t going to give her any kind of satisfaction. Not
by quitting and not by standing there listening. “No, I don’t want to hear about your birthday,” I said. I tried to put enough bass into my tone so she would hear my warning. So she would realize that I was not one to play with.

But she just leaned her head back and laughed. Rachel laughed, too, though she had no idea that she was doing so at my expense.

I marched, with hard steps, back to my office. I tried to hold my head high, but by the time I reached my destination, my chin was resting on my chest. Behind my closed door, I collapsed into my chair.

Why hadn’t Adam and I considered every aspect of this deal? Was this pain, this embarrassment, this heartache worth the money?

Only a little more than thirty-six hours had passed since Adam had been home and I already knew that we’d paid too high a price for the five million, which had turned into two million less.

But then I inhaled a deep breath and retrieved happy thoughts from my memory. So much good
had
come out of this—our children were smiling again, Ruby was safe, we now owned our home.

There was so much good, even as I was living in torment.

For the greater good.

Isn’t that why I’d signed on the dotted line?

All I had to do now was pray that the greater good didn’t bring my entire family down.

Chapter 51

A
DAM’S VOICE CAME THROUGH CRISP AND
clear.

“Please leave a message,” his cell phone told me again. I’d called so many times that I half expected his voice mail to address me personally.

I clicked off, leaving no message.

Just like yesterday, I’d called him, not getting any kind of answer, not getting any return call—and this time, I knew his phone was charged. Now his car was missing from our garage. Where was he?

Never before had Adam’s whereabouts concerned me. I’d always known he loved me; I’d always known he was coming home. But the doubts from this weekend had spilled over into the week. And since Adam wouldn’t talk to me, there was nothing I could do to get rid of my suspicion.

I tried his cell one more time. No answer.

My heart dipped way below where it was supposed to be.