Page 59 of The Unraveling

“What about if you used the money for good? You mentioned your daughter had a hearing deficiency and wore hearing aids. Perhaps you could start a foundation to help hearing-impaired children who couldn’t otherwise afford devices to assist them?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Or donate it to a shelter or some charity that is meaningful to you, or perhaps one that was meaningful to your wife.”

“I guess.”

The buzzer goes off. I’ve never been so grateful for a session to end. Lord knows how many more times I’d stick my foot in my mouth if we had another ten minutes.

I force my best warm smile while I reach for the timer.

Gabriel rubs his palms on his pants. “Maybe you’re right. A foundation isn’t a bad idea.”

I nod. “Take your time and think about it. I’m sure you can find a lot of good to do with three and a half million dollars.”

The moment the words come out of my mouth, everything freezes as I recognize what I’ve done. Oh God. I think I might be sick.

Gabriel squints. “How did you know the check was for three and a half million?”

“Um, you must’ve mentioned it.”

He studies me, his head tilting ever so slightly. “I don’t think I did.”

I smile. I’m a nervous wreck, so it feels forced. Too big and broad, all teeth and gums. I pray I don’t look deranged. “How else would I know?”

He holds my eyes for what seems like forever but is probably not more than ten seconds. Then he smiles. “Yeah. Of course. Same time next week?”

CHAPTER 25 Now

Overthinking is apparently my new thing. Or maybe I’m just now recognizing it in myself. I pace my apartment, reliving my session with Gabriel over and over. And not just what I said—my massive screwup that he obviously noticed—but also the way he looked at me after.

Did he know?

Did I blow it?

Or was it all in my imagination? And everything’s fine, and he’ll come back like nothing ever happened next week.

Next week.

Shit.

I sink onto the edge of my bed and stare blankly at the wall. I can’t do this. I can’t keep seeing him. Not when there are so many secrets, when I’m so heavily intertwined with his life and he doesn’t even know it. Unless he does. But again, that’s all speculation, likely a production of my guilty conscience.

I’m just trying to help.

Right?

I don’t even know anymore. I tried to help, and the money only made him upset.

I go to the kitchen and find the wine cooler nearly empty. All that remains is a Riesling, too sweet, too heavy, like honey. But it’ll do. I pour a glass and lean against the floor-to-ceiling window that looks out over the city, contemplating it all. I was so glad to still have a view into Gabriel’s life. But now that view threatens to expose me.

I swallow more wine, wandering from one room to another. A ghost, haunting my own home. Worse, a ghost who drinks too much. I ignore my phone when it pings with new messages on the dating app, silence an alarm to remind me to send an email for work. My mind is too muddled anyway. I swear the sweet wine goes to my head faster. Eventually, I sit down and catch up with a dozen notifications—a request for a refill through my work email, a message from Sarah reminding me about a last-second schedule change. Three messages wait for me on the dating app, but I’m not sure there’s any point.

Another glass of wine.

Leaning back in the recliner you loved so much—the right bend to your knees, you said, to let your sore back relax—I think about a dozen threads that could unravel in a second if Gabriel realized I’ve followed him, that I have my own personal notebook of his comings and goings, that I’ve stalked his family’s grave site, that I’m your wife. Your widow.

Another random thought hits, and I suddenly bolt upright. What if Jake didn’t do as I asked and my name was included with the check he sent?

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