Not Enough Support From My Husband, His Best Friend Stepped In novel · Chapter 2 of 16

Chapter 2: Speakerphone

Marissa tells Dalton on speaker that Lainey took the money in cash, Dalton leaves for a gala, and Lainey follows him there.

"Eighty thousand," Dalton said again, quieter.

I got up from the table and handed him my phone.

The banking app was already open.

Three deposits, one on the first of each month.

$800.00. $800.00. $800.00.

All of them from Sumner Household.

He scrolled up. He scrolled down. He scrolled up again.

"This is wrong," he said. "This has to be a glitch."

"Three months in a row?" Shane said.

Dalton pulled out his own phone and hit a name.

He put it on speaker and set it on the island between us.

It rang once.

"Mr. Sumner!" Marissa's voice was bright and breathless. "Are you on your way? The photographers are asking for you."

"How much goes to my wife every month?"

There was a tiny pause.

"The full amount, of course. Eighty thousand into the household account, on the first."

"She's showing me eight hundred."

"Oh." Marissa's voice went soft. "Oh, Dalton. I didn't want to worry you."

I watched my husband's face.

He was listening to her the way he used to listen to me.

"Mrs. Sumner takes most of it out in cash," Marissa said. "Every month, around the fifteenth.

"She asked me to keep a little in the checking account for groceries. I assumed you two had talked about it."

"That's a lie," I said.

"Mrs. Sumner? Is that you?"

"I have never taken a dollar out of anything."

"I have all the statements, Mrs. Sumner. I'm happy to show Mr. Sumner tomorrow. I know things are hard right now, with the baby. My sister was the same way after hers."

Shane made a sound in his throat.

"Tell her to come here with the statements now," he said.

"Is someone else there?" Marissa asked.

Dalton picked up the phone and turned it off speaker.

"I'm on my way," he said into it.

He hung up.

"You're leaving," I said.

"The board is there. Half of our clients are there. I'm giving the toast."

"Your daughter hasn't had a full can of formula in a week."

He flinched at that.

He pulled out his wallet and took out every bill in it.

He put them on the counter.

About four hundred dollars.

"I'll sort it out in the morning," he said. "I promise. I'll go through every statement myself."

He looked at Shane holding Poppy.

Something moved in his jaw.

"Thanks for helping," he said. "You can go home now."

"I'll go when she tells me to."

Dalton stood there another second.

Then he walked out.

I heard his car start in the driveway.

I didn't move for a long time.

Shane put Poppy in her bassinet and ladled out two bowls of chili.

"Eat," he said.

I ate.

At eight thirty, my phone lit up.

Marissa had posted again.

She was on the steps of the Harbor Club in the white crystal gown.

Dalton stood beside her in his tux, one hand on her back.

The caption said, "Some people show up. Some people call to complain."

There were already two hundred likes.

The first comment was from Dalton's mother.

"Some girls marry money. Some girls earn it. So proud of you, sweetheart."

Ingrid Sumner had never once called me sweetheart.

Shane read it over my shoulder.

He put his spoon down.

"Where's the nanny?" he asked.

"She quit this morning. I owe her three thousand dollars."

"Do you have her number?"

I gave him my phone.

He walked into the hall and made the call.

I heard him say, "Three thousand now, and double your rate for tonight."

He came back and set my phone down.

"She'll be here in twenty minutes."

"Shane, why?"

"Because you're going to that party."

I looked down at myself.

Milk stains on a gray sweater. Hair I hadn't washed in four days.

"I can't walk in there."

"Why not? Your husband did."

Gloria came through the front door at five to nine.

She looked at me, then at Shane, then at the four grocery bags on the floor.

She picked up her apron from where she'd thrown it that morning.

"Go," she said. "I'll feed her at ten."

I found the only dress that still fit me.

Navy blue, from before the pregnancy. It pulled across my chest.

I put my hair up and some lipstick on.

Shane drove.

He'd changed out of his scrubs into a black shirt he kept in his car.

He didn't talk the whole way.

The Harbor Club was all glass and white lights over the water.

A man at the door looked at my dress and checked his list twice.

"Mrs. Sumner," Shane said. "Her husband's the host."

The man let us in.

The ballroom was packed.

A string quartet was playing.

At the front of the room, Marissa stood at the microphone in her five-million-dollar gown.

"And I just want to thank Dalton Sumner," she said, "the most generous man I know."

Everyone clapped.

Then she saw me.

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