Page 54 of The Wake-Up Call

Izzy

We travel home in a silence that is only broken twice: once by Lucas saying, “Please stop kicking the table leg,” and once by me objecting to Lucas manspreading, though the moment he moves his knee out of my space, I find to my alarm that I kind of want it back again.

I feel totally panicked by last night. The kiss. The strip poker. Lucas in nothing but boxers. It’s hard to even know where to begin with processing it all, so instead I just stare out at the snowy countryside and listen to an upcycling podcast, fully aware that I am forgetting everything the podcaster says in real-time.

When we get back to the hotel, there is a dark-haired woman sitting on the front steps, doubled over, shoulders shaking with sobs. A thin layer of snow dusts the stone around her, but her navy coat is hanging open, as though she hasn’t noticed the cold.

Lucas and I exchange a glance and accelerate.

“Madam?” Lucas says. “Can we help you?”

She looks up at us through blue-rimmed glasses clouded with tears.

“You,” she says with venom. “You’re the ones doing this ring thing, aren’t you?”

Shit. Is this Wife 1? Wife 2? Or someone else entirely whose life I have managed to ruin?

“Yes,” Lucas says calmly, ducking down to sit on the step beside her. “That’s us.”

This is kind of him—I think we all know this ismypet project. I was quick to remind him of that when it was earning us a fifteen-grand reward.

“You’ve ruined everything. Graham is—was—hewasa good husband. We werehappy.”

Her make-up is scored with tear tracks. She’s beautiful, in that classic, statuesque way that always ages so well—I find myself thinking,How could anyone cheat on someone like her?As if beautiful people are immune to the damage a screwed-up man can create.

My stomach twists. I feel terrible. I never, ever imagined that the Ring Thing could cause any harm. I just thought about how desperately I would want someone to return the ring my dad gave me if they ever found it. But maybe some things are better off lost.

“Mrs....”

“Rogers. Actually, that’s his name, so—Ms. Ashley, I guess.”

“I see,” Lucas says. “Ms. Ashley, I am very sorry for the pain this has caused you.”

She’s sobbing again. I twist my hands together, sitting down on the other side of Ms. Ashley, then biting my lip as the freezing cold snow soaks through the backs of my trousers.

“But Graham wasnota good husband.”

Lucas’s voice is firm. I glance at his face, surprised—I thought he would just listen and make some supportive noises, but he’s gone in pretty hard there.

“Someone who can lie to you so easily, and give his love tosomebody else when he promised it all to you... that is not a good husband.”

Ms. Ashley drops her face into her hands. “Oh, God. But Graham is sonice. Everyone says it.”

She lifts her gaze to me. I almost recoil at her expression.

“Don’t listen to people,” she says. “You hear me? People are stupid. Listen to your instincts. Yours. Nobody else’s. Everyone said I should go out with Graham because he’s a good guy, andnow fucking look at me!”

I try not to jump as she starts shouting. I glance up—a car is pulling into the car park.

Ms. Ashley shoots to her feet. “That’s them.You wanker!” she screams at the car.

I widen my eyes at Lucas, standing up and brushing the snow off my legs.

“Ah,” comes Mrs. SB’s voice from behind us, in the hotel doorway. “Everyone’s here very early for brunch! How nice. Mrs. Rogers...”

“Ms. Ashley,” Lucas and I correct her in unison.

“Ms. Ashley,” Mrs. SB says, not missing a beat. “I wondered where you’d got to. Won’t you come back inside and warm up?”

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