Becca,
I’ve booked a room at the Marmont on Sunday night. I told Maggie I’m catching an early flight to Chicago so I can get a start on the witness interviews on Monday morning. I’ve asked the concierge to leave a key for you at the front desk. Room 704. Wear that sexy red dress that shows off those beautiful tits. You know what it does to me.
Tom
Maggie winced at the words glaring in front of her. They burned her skin like the residual sting from a slap to the face. What hurt the most was that he had lied to her about catching a plane halfway across the country. And now all she could think was what if something had happened to that flight? What if it had gone down, leaving her to imagine her husband, the father of her sons, had perished in a plane wreck? And yet, the whole time, he’d been holed up in a hotel room with his mistress instead? Anger flared in the pit of her belly.
Tom,
Thank you for the necklace. I’ve never been given real diamonds before. I love it. You’re so good to me. I can still feel you inside me. Do you think we could sneak into the bathroom after your partner meeting without being noticed?
Becca xoxo
Of course he bought her diamonds, Maggie sneered in disgust. Bile began climbing up the back of her throat as hot tears of rage burned her eyes.
But she couldn’t stop reading. In fact, the farther she delved the more she discovered how deep her husband had been embroiled in a tawdry, illicit affair with a twenty-four-year-old woman. He’d taken her on weekends away when he’d told Maggie he was off working. He even had keys to her apartment. The nights Maggie had spent alone in bed, thinking Tom was busy working, when all along he’d been with this woman.
Slamming the laptop closed, Maggie released a shaky breath. Sitting back against the armchair behind her, she hugged her knees to her chest, staring out the window. Suddenly captivated by the breaking dawn, she watched as the sun illuminated the morning with an eerily foreboding glow.
So many scenarios played in her head. So many questions that would likely forever go unanswered. But one thing was certain: the man she called her husband and her best friend, the man she loved more than any man, the man she’d spent the last month mourning, was no more than a liar and a cheat.
Maggie’s already broken heart was now shattered and she didn’t believe it could ever be repaired. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw something, anything. As she took a look around the bedroom she’d once shared with Tom, her skin pricked painfully. It was all a lie. Everything. His love, his words, the way he would look at her as if she were the only woman in the entire world, it had been nothing but a goddamn lie.
Chapter 4
Maggie had been on autopilot all morning. She’d washed her face, brushed her teeth, changed from one pair of jeans and a sweatshirt to another pair of jeans and a different sweatshirt. She’d then proceeded downstairs in a total daze, trying so hard to act like nothing was wrong. She’d cooked the boys breakfast like she did every day, dropped them at school, and then afterwards, she went off to the grocery store like she did every Wednesday morning.
But today was different. As she ambled aimlessly up and down every aisle she was almost catatonic, like a zombie, staring straight ahead at nothing in front of her while filling the cart with items she didn’t need, to the tune of some generic pop song playing through the muffled speakers in the ceiling.
The monotony of the grocery store afforded her time to think. Time to try and come to terms with the gravity of the situation she was forced to deal with. Her husband had been cheating on her. Her husband, whom she had loved more than life itself, had been having a sordid affair with another woman. Her husband, the father of her children, had betrayed her in the worst possible way.
If Tom were still here, Maggie would have tossed his clothes out onto the lawn with dramatic flair. Kicked his sorry ass to the proverbial curb and made a big scene of it for all the nosy neighbors to pretend not to watch and then gossip about afterwards. But Tom wasn’t here. He was gone. And less than twenty-four hours ago she’d been mourning him, wondering if and when things might get easier, wondering when her broken heart might finally begin to start healing. Now, she didn’t quite know what to think, how to act, what to do or say.
It’d always been just the two of them. Tom and Maggie. Now it was just her, and the memories of her husband and the love they shared were suddenly tainted. She didn’t have any friends of her own. She’d moved to Rhode Island from Michigan so she could attend art school. But then she got pregnant and went on to become a young wife and a mother at nineteen. When they moved from Rhode Island to Boston, so Tom could attend law school, Maggie was a stay-at-home mom to a toddler with no time to make friends. As the years went on, all her so-called girlfriends were just wives of Tom’s friends or colleagues.
Maggie’s mother had passed away from lung cancer not long after Jack had been born, and Maggie had never known her father. She had no real family, only Tom’s sister who she’d never gotten along with, and his father, a wealthy lawyer who’d retired to Boca Raton and only bothered to see them once a year, sometimes every other year. He was the kind of man who believed a trust fund in his grandsons’ names for when they reached twenty-one, and a card with some money in it every Christmas and birthday, helped to cross off his obligatory grandparent duties. Needless to say, he never had much to do with his own son, either. Tom and his father’s relationship was strained to say the least. They rarely saw him when Tom was alive, and it was unlikely they would see him now that Tom was gone.
Maggie had no one. No family. No friends. Her whole life had been her husband and her kids. They were all she ever needed or wanted. Sure, she had acquaintances, women she would catch up with every now and again for lunch, but no solid relationships outside of the four walls of her home. It suddenly felt as if a big part of her life had been a lie. Since Tom’s death, she’d felt like a shadow of her former self. But now that she knew the truth, after a month of unrelenting tears and insufferable heartache, not only did she feel depleted, she felt like a damn fool.
“Maggie?”
Maggie stopped. She knew that voice all too well. In fact, it almost caused a shiver to run down her spine. Reluctantly, she glanced over her shoulder. When she saw the familiar redhead approach from the deli, she felt her entire body tense, her grip on the shopping cart tightened to the point where her nails were digging painfully into the heels of her palms.
Catherine Dewitt was certainly not the kind of woman Maggie felt like dealing with today, or any other day for that matter.
“Hi, Catherine …” Maggie muttered through gritted teeth, forcing a smile she knew didn’t look genuine at all.
Catherine stopped in front of her, her head cocked to the side, that same condescending look in her green eyes which only accentuated the pitiful smile pulling at her cosmetically plumped lips. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?”
“Groceries,” Maggie answered, glancing at her cart full of items, as if it were obvious. Smoothing her hair back from her face, she looked Catherine up and down.
In comparison to Catherine, Maggie was a total mess. Where Catherine was preened to perfection, dressed head to toe in designer workout wear straight from the country club Pilates studio, Maggie looked like death warmed up twice in the microwave: unkempt hair twisted into a knot on top of her head, scuffed Converse, faded jeans and an old gray sweatshirt with the Jurassic Park logo printed on the front which, now that she looked at it, she was almost certain was TJ’s. She sighed. Who was she kidding? Even on her most glamorous day, Maggie would pale against a woman like Catherine.
“Darling, should you really be out and about?” Catherine reached out a perfectly manicured hand, touching Maggie’s arm.
What am I? Maggie thought derisively. A goddamn invalid?
“You know the girls and I are only a phone call away,” Catherine continued. “I can do your groceries for you.”
The girls? Maggie was forced to suppress an eyeroll. Catherine
used the term as if they were her closest friends when, in fact, the girls were nothing more than a group of wives and girlfriends of Belmont’s most successful men, most of whom Maggie couldn’t stand.
Tom had been one of those successful men. It had been his goal since graduating law school. To own the big house. To drive the expensive car. To be invited to all the exclusive events. And, for all intents and purposes, he’d made it. Ironically, he was a carbon copy of his father, the one man he loathed the most.
But Maggie had been right there by his side—the perfect little trophy wife. She had hated every minute of it, of course. Associating with entitled, self-important women such as Catherine Dewitt was never high on her list of priorities, but she had felt obligated to conform because she loved her husband, and he would have been disappointed otherwise.
As Catherine’s concern dissipated and she began talking animatedly about something she’d heard on the proverbial grapevine of Belmont gossip, Maggie tuned out completely. She watched how the woman’s pupils dilated with unbridled excitement with each word. She lowered her voice every so often, leaning in close so the sordid details of her gossip wouldn’t be overheard by the other shoppers in the store. Belmont was a thriving community, but the elite inner circle was small.
And at that thought, Maggie’s heart came to a crashing halt in her chest.
What if the details of Tom’s affair somehow managed to get out?
Her mind flashed with an image of Catherine whispering about Maggie’s business to someone else in the aisles of this very grocery store, or the nail salon, or one of the many designer clothing boutiques that dotted the main promenade. And it suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
What if her boys found out?
TJ and Jack loved and idolized their father. Tom had been—and still was—their hero. And despite his flaws and what he’d done to Maggie, he’d worked so hard to have the kind of relationship with his sons that he never got to experience with his own father. Jack and TJ couldn’t find out the truth. It would kill them.
Panic settled low in Maggie’s stomach as she began to imagine the worst.
“Are you okay, sweetie?”
Blinking a few times, Maggie shook her head in the hope that it might snap her out of the unwelcome reverie. Her gaze zeroed in on Catherine to find a genuine look of concern in her eyes.
Clearing the bubble of emotion from her throat, she forced a wavering smile. “Yeah … sorry.” She looked around, for what she didn’t know, her cheeks heating, the skin at the back of her neck prickling. She glanced at her shopping cart loaded with food, and her heart raced. “Actually … I’m n-not feeling very well.”
“You’re white as a ghost!” Catherine shrieked incredulously before calling for assistance.
A stock boy came running from somewhere, a concerned look on his face as he glanced from Catherine to Maggie and back again. Maggie couldn’t hear their exchange through the loud whooshing of her pulse in her ears. Catherine said something to the college-aged boy and he nodded with an understanding smile, taking the shopping cart from Maggie’s death-like grip. Before she was able to say or do anything, Catherine helped Maggie out of the store with an arm secured around her waist.
Outside, the rain was coming down hard, puddles pooling in the parking lot. But Maggie could breathe again. She placed a hand over her chest, feeling every erratic beat of her heart beneath her palm as she glanced sideways at Catherine. The woman still had a hold of her, a stark look of worry marring her otherwise flawless face.
“I’m fine,” Maggie managed through the lump in her throat. “Just a little dizzy is all, sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize. You poor thing,” Catherine said with an overly condescending smile. “You’ve had a difficult few weeks.” Her eyes trailed Maggie up and down before she added, “And goodness, it looks like you’ve lost at least ten pounds!”
Maggie nodded as Catherine’s words grated on her. She was so sick of the pity, the sympathy. It was no longer warranted. Now, she just wanted it all to stop, to go away. To end.
“I’ve asked the store to deliver your groceries to the house.” Catherine pointed back through the glass windows before giving Maggie another close look. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
She wanted to say no. That she wouldn’t be okay. That she would never be okay ever again. But she didn’t. Instead, she said, “I’m fine” because that was easier.
Avoiding Catherine’s scrupulous stare, Maggie focused on the parking lot. All she wanted was to get the hell out of there, away from the likes of Catherine Dewitt. Gossip was that woman’s forte and she was almost certain the self-professed Queen Bee of Belmont would be able to see straight through Maggie’s thinly veiled melancholy sooner or later. She simply couldn’t risk lingering any longer.
“Thanks, Catherine.” Maggie reached into her purse, pulling out her keys.
“Are you okay to drive?” Catherine asked, eyeing her warily.
“I’m fine.” Placating the woman’s concerns with a tight-lipped smile, Maggie turned away before any more could be said. With her head down in the rain, she hurried through the lot to her car, desperate to get away from Catherine’s prying eyes.
***
She should have gone home. Straight home. She needed to calm down. She needed to be alone to cry, or scream, or punch something. Anything to release the pent-up aggression of the chaotic emotions creating havoc deep down inside. But Maggie didn’t go home. Instead, she found herself parked in the loading zone right out the front of the building that had been, until not so long ago, home to her husband’s office.
Her heart raced. Her stomach twisted. Her palms, gripping the steering wheel, were clammy as she stared out through the windshield, the rain pelting hard against the glass.
She took a moment to consider her options.
Sure, she could’ve burned the Empire napkin, deleted the emails and the text messages. She could have continued living a lie as the once doting wife and now widow of the late Tom Morris. But the problem was she knew the truth, and it was gnawing at her like a rabid dog out for blood.
Maggie knew she was teetering on the verge of dangerous territory, but, for some reason, she just had to do this. She needed that confirmation, and she needed to see it in the eyes of the only surviving offender. So, she forced herself out of the car and, without another moment’s hesitation, she marched right up to that building with every last sliver of determination she could summon.
Chapter 5
All eyes were fixed on Maggie. Of course she looked out of place, surrounded by corporate types eyeing her curiously, no doubt wondering what the frazzled, slightly unhinged-looking woman wearing a ten-year-old’s Jurassic Park sweatshirt was doing in their elevator. But she didn’t care. And when the robotic voice cut through the awkward silence to announce the twenty-first floor, she proceeded off the elevator with her chin held high in a show of confidence she didn’t really feel before she came to an abrupt stop in the lobby.
Peering in through the glass doors brandishing the firm’s logo, Maggie saw her.
She was perched at the sleek reception desk. Perfectly styled blonde hair. Flawlessly made-up. Rebecca Holmes looked as if she didn’t have a single care in the world as she typed something into her computer, laughing with whoever was on the receiving end of the dainty headset she was talking into. Her carefree smile caused Maggie’s hands to ball into trembling fists at her sides, but she managed to maintain what little composure she had left as she continued through the doors with unyielding defiance in every one of her strides.
Rebecca glanced up mid-conversation and Maggie met her curious gaze as she approached the desk. All she could think about was how this woman had been in her house. Memories of a brief encounter they’d shared at the wake of Tom’s funeral flashed through her mind. Rebecca had been in Maggie’s house with tears in her eyes, supporting her like she gave a damn.
In the flash of an instant, so fleeting Maggie almo
st missed it, Rebecca’s face fell, her cheeks paled ever so slightly. But she was quick to recover, plastering that same well-rehearsed smile onto her face. She flashed a set of straight, gleaming white teeth that Maggie suddenly wanted to punch right out of her mouth. And it was that unexpected yearning to physically hurt this woman that terrified Maggie the most; she had never been a violent person.
“Can you please hold for a moment?” Rebecca asked the person on the line in a saccharine voice that dripped with insincerity. “Thank you.”
Maggie waited, looking down at the beautiful blonde as her gaze lifted to set on her, fake lashes fluttering innocently. “Mrs. Morris.” She smiled. “How can I help you?”
The greeting hung awkwardly in the air as Maggie stared at the woman. A million thoughts swirled around in her dangerously conflicted head, her heart hammered painfully in the cavity of her chest.
Rebecca’s dark blonde eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “Mrs. Morris …?”
Maggie released a shaky breath. “It’s Ms. Morris. I’m a widow. My husband died … remember?” She arched a brow, staring directly into the doe eyes of her husband’s mistress, watching as all the blood seemed to drain from her pretty face.
What felt like an eternity passed as the two women stared silently at one another, the reception switchboard lighting up like a Christmas tree, its calls going unanswered. Then Rebecca cleared her throat, forcing an uncertain smile that didn’t meet her eyes.
“Yes, sorry. Of course, Ms. Morris.” She shook her head with a light, humorless laugh. “I-I didn’t know you were coming in this morning,” she stammered, giving away her nerves. Averting her eyes to her computer monitor, she frantically clicked her mouse while focusing intently on the screen. “Who are you here to see? James? He’s just—”
The Long Way Home Page 3