Page 19 of Seven Year Itch

Babe. Hope you had fun last night. I had to step out for a while so I probably won't be home when you get there. I promise to be back in time for dinner. XOXO

With shaky fingers, her heart now trying to crawl up her throat, she pulled up the tracking app. Sure enough, his phone icon and red dot showed him at the Freemont Hotel.

"What's wrong?" Mia, looking as disheveled as Ali probably did, came walking into the room.

Ali looked back down at her hands. They were empty, the phone lying on the floor by her feet. She hadn't even realized she'd dropped it. Too shocked to even cry, she just sat and stared at the phone.Numb. She'd finally reached a state where she was numb. "I don't think Garrett ever went home last night." Was that her voice, sounding so calm and... distant?

"Are you sure?" Mia's voice wasn't as calm.

Ali shrugged. "Pretty sure. I used the tracking app. He's at the same hotel. I don't think he ever left."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." She rested her forehead on her knees. A chill raced down her spine and she shivered. Dejectedly, she whispered, "I just don't know."

"Girl, listen to me, everything's going to be all right."

As Mia's words sunk in, Ali slowly felt the cold melt away as a blazing heat engulfed her body. Anger replacing the numbness. Not anger toward her friend. Anger at Garrett.

How dare he do that to her.

How dare he sneak behind her back with some other woman and not have the balls to confront her first. How dare he treat her like a piece of garbage, an old shoe, something insignificant.

Fuck that!

Getting to her feet, she breathed heavily.

"Ali? You okay? Talk to me."

"Yeah, I'm okay. And I know what I'm going to do."

"What? Girl, don't do anything crazy. Though, you know I got your back if you need bail money. Kids don't really need to go to college anyway."

Ali shook her head. "No. I'm not going to jail, but I am going to that hotel to find my husband even if I have to knock on every door to accomplish that goal."

"I'm going with you. Mark took the kids to the park, so I'm good."

Ali closed her eyes, tears forming behind her closed lids at the love she felt for her best friend at that moment. Opening her eyes, she looked over at Mia and with a voice roughened with emotion, said, "Thank you."

≈≈≈≈

After grabbing a quick shower to wash the last traces of alcohol from her system, Ali planted herself behind the steering wheel of her car, travel mug full of coffee firmly tucked between her legs. She glanced over at Mia as she slipped into the passenger seat.

She'd lied to her friend. She wouldn't really knock on every door until she found her husband, but she did hope if she called him when she arrived he would at least feel... Guilty? Concerned? Obligated? Enough to come down and meet her.

Other than that, she had no plan. She didn't know what she would say to him. Her thoughts churned with the various possibilities, but this time, her smooth-talking husband wouldn't be digging himself out of his grave. Nope, this time he didn't have a shovel.

Having been at the hotel the day before, she knew the lay of the land and picked a parking spot close to the entrance. If she broke down, she wanted a fast getaway.

Stepping from the car, she looked up at the sky and observed for the first time, it was actually a beautiful day. Big, fluffy, white clouds surrounded by a sea of bright blue with the sun radiating the perfect temperature. The complete opposite of the dark and stormy thoughts that raced through her head.

Though close, the walk to the entry still seemed endless, and she imagined she now knew how a Death Row inmate felt, taking their final walk. She wasn't really about to die, but the irony of the situation wasn't lost on her. She did feel as if the life she loved was coming to an end.

Mia walked quietly by her side, a silent protector, there if she needed her.

Stepping on the mat, the glass, double doors automatically parted as if welcoming her in. And if that wasn't the most ironic thing of all, she didn't know what was.

She crossed the threshold, stepping into a beautifully decorated lobby. White marble, gleaming fixtures, greenery, a long reception counter manned by smiling employees, and a woman, coming at her at a fast clip, her heels tapping a frantic beat against the hard floor. Her head was slightly bowed, looking at a clipboard she held in her hand, and she wore a headset, the microphone dangling in the vicinity of her chin.

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