Again, I get the sense that something’s off. “That’s sweet of you,” I tell him but before I can say everything’s fine, he gets right to the real reason he called.

“You two all right?”

“Yeah,” I say and instantly feel like shit. The single word is a vicious lie on my lips. I question what I should tell him: I don’t know if my marriage to his son will last? That I’m falling apart and I have no idea how to make this better? That his son is a liar and I hate him for the pain he’s putting me through?

“I spoke to Evan and he said he’s not sure about the holidays coming up,” Henry tells me and his tone reflects that he’s baiting me. Henry’s kind, polite, keeps to himself and doesn’t want to be a bother, but he has a way of getting the truth out of people. Evan certainly inherited his charm from his father.

The screen of my laptop dims, ridding the room of any light so I hit the space bar and bring it back to life.

“It’s a bit away, but,” I say then pause and swallow, not knowing how to articulate the onslaught of thoughts. They all crowd themselves into a jam at the back of my throat, refusing to come out. I don’t have family, so it’s not as if I can use them as an excuse. “Work may be a little much.” I finally say the words and breathe out slowly, giving him a lie I’m sure he knows is exactly that.

“He said you’re going through something.” There’s no bullshit in his voice as he adds, “That you two aren’t doing the best.”

A pricking numbness dances across my hands as I ask weakly, “Did he?” Staring blankly ahead, the rhetorical question is like a knife in my back. It’s a betrayal. That’s how I feel hearing that Evan’s told his father what we’re going through. It makes the crack in my heart that much wider.

We aren’t doing the best. I hear it over and over and each time the knife stabs deeper.

It’s not fair that he invites so much attention. I don’t need the judgment, because I don’t want their opinions. I don’t want them to know we’re flawed. I just want us whole again. I wish no one knew so I could silently be the weak wife I am. The one willing to turn a blind eye for the unfaithful man she loves more than herself.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Henry,” I say bluntly as my eyes close at the confession. I can tell the computer has gone into sleep mode again and this time I don’t hit the keys to bring it back to life. The darkness is too comforting.

“I just want you to know I’m here for you,” Henry says clearly into the phone. “You’re my daughter,” he adds and it breaks my composure.

I push away from the desk, the chair legs catching on the rug and nearly tipping over. With a heavy inhale, I walk slowly to the door and then to my bedroom, the phone still pressed to my ear. I’m just going through the motions and trying to be numb to it all.

“Thank you,” I finally say as I lean against the bedroom door, closing it. I almost tell him he’s like a father to me.

Almost, but when we do get a divorce, Henry won’t be there for me. It doesn’t matter what he says. It doesn’t matter that I’ll be alone, because that’s how I’ve been most of my life anyway.

“I love you and I’m sorry you two are going through this.” I let Henry’s words echo in my head.

He’s not the only one who’s sorry.

Evan

The music pounds away, the bass cranked up so high it vibrates my chest. The interior of the nightclub alternates between dark shadows and bright, colorful lights that flash in time with the beat. Vibrant reds and greens scatter across the slim bodies that come and go from sight with the sudden darkness in between the beats.

“Another!” Kane’s friend Mikey yells on my left, a little too loud, a little too close to my ear for comfort. I give him a smile in return and pretend to take another swig of my beer. I’m used to guys like him.

Another time in my life, I’d actually be drinking. The feel that I get on the right side of a heavy buzz is comforting. That light-headedness where you still have control, but not a damn thing matters. That’s the place I craved to be for so long, but not anymore.

Not when so much is slipping through my fingers.

It’s been a few hours since we got to Annabel’s and so far the job’s been easy. Kane and his friends are trashed and most importantly, the rock star is having the time of his life. His crew is saddled up to the bar with a few women pressing their bodies against the men who welcome it, letting their hands stray every so often. One in particular for Kane, which has me on edge and keeping an eye out for the telltale glow of a cell phone in the air, ready to capture a snapshot.

She’s the woman closest to Kane, Christi is what she said her name was, and the loudest by far. The more she drinks, the louder she gets, and the closer to Kane. Not that Kane seems to notice any of that.

According to his file, the tall, loudmouthed blonde is his type and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s strayed from his wife. Fame and fortune tend to do it. I’ve seen it too many times to keep track.

Kat thinks this is the type of shit I do. The thought makes me sick to my stomach, a scowl marring my face. I can’t change what my clients do; I learned that all too fast. You can’t change people. You accept it and work with what you’re given. A prick’s a prick. He’s never going to be anything but that. So I raise the beer to my lips and take a long swig, nearly draining the bottle.

With the change of music bringing the group a little closer as the lights fade, I watch them each carefully, but all I can think about is Kat. What she’d think of this mess.

She’s never questioned me before, but last night she let out shit I had no idea about. Insecurities and accusations that made me feel like less of a man.

I can’t blame her, can I? Not when I have secrets. Not when I can’t look her in the eyes and tell her I haven’t fucked up.

A strong grip on my arm rouses me from my thoughts.

“Can you get me something?” Kane asks, sidling up next to me. The smell of whiskey is heavy on his breath. It takes great effort not to put immediate distance between us.

Just like Mikey, he’s a little too close as he slurs his request to the point where I can’t tell what he’s saying.

“What are you looking for?” I ask him to clarify and stare at the half-empty bottles of liquor lining the top shelf of the bar.

“Something a little stronger,” he says as he tilts his head and tries to be subtle, but fails miserably, putting his hand to his nose and sniffing loudly. Cocaine.

I hesitate and waver on my answer. Luckily, I don’t have to respond. Instead a loud, high-pitched voice on my right screams out, “We’ve got absinthe!” Apparently Christi was eavesdropping. Surprise, surprise. Her bright red talons are digging tight into Kane and I know she’s going to stay within hearing range until we’re out of here, just like she’s been doing since she recognized him from across the room. She’s leaning over a barstool, her breasts on full display and when I look back at Kane, the only thing he’s looking at is her chest.

“Never had it,” Kane says too low and the blonde screams, practically in my ear, “What?”