April Joke, Permanent Scar novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: White Roses

Dylan comes home with the roses from their wedding and lies about a work trip; Hannah asks if he has anything to tell her, and Sheridan's text lights his phone: Hannah's not invited.

Dylan came home a little before eleven.

He was carrying white roses.

They were the same roses I had carried down the aisle at our wedding.

I was sitting at the kitchen table when he walked in, with the drawer beside my knee closed over the tests.

"Hey, you," he said. "Why are you still up?"

"I couldn't sleep," I said.

He laid the roses in front of me and kissed my forehead.

"For the anniversary week," he said. "I figured I owed you."

He smelled like the club, like whiskey and cologne and someone else's perfume.

I looked at the roses and thought about the voice recording sitting on my phone.

He had paid for the flowers with a card, and tomorrow he would pay for a chapel with our baby money.

"Good party?" I asked.

"Same as always." He loosened his tie. "Sheridan picked a dumb dare. Nothing worth repeating."

It was such an easy lie.

I watched him tell it, and he did not even look away.

"Oh," he said. "I have to drive to Dayton tomorrow. A client wants to meet before the quarter closes."

"For how long?"

"Just the day. I'll be back by midnight." He opened the fridge. "My phone will be off, though. They don't like calls in the meeting."

"That's convenient," I said.

He laughed. "It's work, Hannah. Nothing about Dayton is convenient."

I took a breath.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"

He stopped with the milk in his hand.

Silence hung between us for a beat.

"Like what?" he said.

"Anything at all."

"I love you," he said, and smiled, and put the milk away.

"That's not what I asked."

"It's what I've got." He came around the table, pulled my chair out a few inches, and crouched in front of me.

He took both my hands.

"You've been looking at me funny since I came in," he said. "Are you okay?"

For four years I had answered that question with a no, and he had held me while I cried.

Tonight I looked at his face, at the man I had trusted with every injection and every empty test, and I understood how easy he thought I was.

"I'm tired," I said. "That's all."

"Then come to bed."

He stood and kissed my forehead again.

This was the third time today.

"You're a good wife," he said. "You know that? The best."

I did not let go of his hands until he let go of mine.

He went upstairs to shower.

The water ran, and I stayed at the table with the roses and my phone.

I opened the banking app.

The Baby account showed $31,200 and, under it, one pending charge from Willow Creek Chapel and Inn for $4,800.

I opened the other account, the one that held my paycheck, and it showed what it always showed, which was not much.

Dylan had set up the joint accounts when we married, and I had never needed to look closely.

I had only ever needed to trust him.

I sent my sister a text: [Can I sleep at your place tomorrow night? I'll explain in person.]

Beth answered within a minute.

[Couch is made. Are you okay??]

I typed, [I will be,] and sent it.

Then I opened the drawer beside my knee.

Three tests lay on top of the baby socks.

I touched the socks once and shut the drawer again.

I was not going to tell him tonight.

If I told him tonight, he would do what he always did: kiss my forehead, say all the right things, and make me feel unreasonable for doubting him.

I wanted one thing first.

I wanted to know what he would do when he believed I knew nothing.

His phone was on the counter, face up, where he had dropped it with his keys.

It lit up while I was looking at it.

I did not pick it up.

I did not need to.

The message was from Sheridan, and the preview was long enough to read from where I sat.

[Chapel's at 2! Hannah's not invited, obviously. Delete this one, okay? xx]

Upstairs, the shower shut off.

I heard him humming.

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