Chapter 12: Suite 412

Hamish took the steps in one stride, and I caught his sleeve before he reached the top.

"Not here," I said. "Not with four thousand people watching."

He stopped.

Under my fingers, his arm was shaking with the effort of standing still.

Hailey carried the baby inside and shut the green door.

The deadbolt turned.

Dalton stood on the porch a moment longer, looking at me, and I thought he might say he was sorry.

"You have one hour to get your things," he said instead. "It's my house. I'll have the locks changed at dinner."

"It is our house."

"The deed says Dalton Pflueger."

He went in.

The lock turned again.

The neighbors on the lawn drifted slowly away, one at a time, not looking at each other.

I stood in the bright afternoon with my ruined borrowed dress, holding the hand of the man I had married six hours earlier.

I realized I was still holding it.

I let go.

An hour later, I came out with two suitcases, Ivy's rabbit-print blanket and a folder of papers.

Dalton had watched me pack from the stairs with his arms folded.

He did not stop me.

He did not say goodbye.

Hailey never came down.

In the truck Hamish looked at the cases on the back seat.

"My place is out," he said. "Someone posted my yard's address under her video."

"Then where?"

"A hotel. A good one. Locked doors, a night manager who knows my name."

"I can't afford a good hotel."

"I can."

"Hamish."

"You're married to me," he said. "It's a very short marriage. Let me do one thing."

He checked us into a corner suite on the fourth floor.

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