On My 35th Birthday, I Found My Husband Had Been Playing House Next Door for 108 Days novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Seventh Anniversary

Dalton brushes off her news, books her an anniversary dinner he skips to cook for Wynn, and takes her mother's china next door; the banking app shows eight transfers to W. Ellery totaling the $15,000 meant for her treatment.

I carried the news alone for an hour and a half.

At three, I sat on a bench outside the clinic and called Dalton.

"I have something important to tell you. Can we talk?"

"Can it wait? I'm getting Milo something to eat while Wynn rests."

Behind him, a little boy called, "Dalton, can I have the crackers?"

"Coming, buddy," Dalton said, and then to me, "Tell me tonight. Love you."

I put the paper back in my purse.

Then I opened the district's email.

They were offering me the Curriculum Coordinator job, starting next month.

I typed: Thank you. I accept.

That evening Dalton brought home my favorite takeout.

He asked how the appointment went, and I reached for my purse.

His phone rang on the counter.

It was Wynn, asking whether Milo had left his goggles in the car.

He answered her before I could say a word.

I watched him walk out to the driveway to look, and I put the paper away again.

Tomorrow was our seventh anniversary.

I called the divorce lawyer's office, and the woman who picked up gave me the first appointment she had.

It was Monday at nine.

On Saturday morning, Dalton kissed me and said, "Happy anniversary."

He set white roses beside my coffee.

They were the flowers from our wedding.

For a moment, that old habit reached the part of me that still wanted to believe him.

"I booked a table for seven," he said. "Just us, no interruptions."

I wanted to see his face when I told him about the baby.

I would give him that one more chance to be a husband.

"I'll be ready," I said.

At six forty-five, I stood in our bedroom in the blue dress he had bought for our fifth anniversary.

My hair was done, and Dalton was not home.

"I'm still at Wynn's," he said when I called. "Her sponsors are coming over and I offered to help with dinner."

"Our reservation is in fifteen minutes."

"Give me half an hour. We'll get a later table."

Milo laughed in the background.

Then Wynn called out, "Dalton, the steaks are ready!"

"You're cooking for her?"

"I'm helping. Don't make it sound like something it's not."

"You promised tonight was ours."

"And it will be. Don't make me regret trying to do something nice for you."

He ended the call.

At seven thirty, Wynn went live.

Dalton stood in her kitchen wearing the red-and-white apron I had bought him, cutting a steak into small pieces for Milo.

Wynn stood beside him with a glass of wine.

The table was set for three: Wynn, her son and my husband.

There were no places for any sponsors.

Then the camera passed over the table.

The plates were ivory with gold rims.

They were my mother's wedding china.

She had given me the set the day Dalton and I married.

After she died, I used it only on birthdays and anniversaries, and I had meant to set our table with it tonight.

I went to the dining room and opened the cabinet.

It was empty.

Every plate and both serving bowls were gone.

Dalton had come home while I was teaching and taken them without asking.

On my phone, Wynn raised her glass.

"To Dalton," she said. "None of this happens without the money you put into my training."

"You worked hard," he said.

She touched his arm. "I couldn't have entered next month's competition without you."

After our second failed treatment, Dalton and I had agreed to keep fifteen thousand dollars in savings for one more consultation.

I had tutored after school and put off replacing my car, because that money was one more chance.

Last month, Dalton had told me we couldn't afford another appointment.

I opened our banking app.

It showed eight transfers to W. Ellery.

They added up to exactly fifteen thousand dollars.

The first one was six days after Wynn moved in, and the biggest was the week Dalton told me to wait.

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