Page 1 of The Liar I Married
PROLOGUE
Images ofherkissing my husbandslam into my brain. How could he do this to me? I need to get away.I can’t think straight. My mind is screaming at me to, “Drive, drive, drive.” The way ahead blurs from my tears and my brand-new SUV swerves across the blacktop, tires screaming. Headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating flashes of brown and green trees alongside the highway. The steering wheel is slippery under my palms. I can’t move it and panic grips me as I fight to gain control. The car accelerates and someone is yelling abuse at me so close to my ear it hurts. A burst of pain spears my temple, jolting my head to one side. Pinwheels of light dance in front of my eyes but I hold tight to the wheel. Blinking frantically, I fight the vehicle’s uncontrollable slide across the road. My hands ache as I wrench the steering wheel away from trees coming closer by the second. I must regain control. Please God help me—my girls are asleep in the back! The SUV responds for a second before it speeds up again. I stab my foot down hard on the pedal. Nothing. Why can’t I make the brakes work?
Terror grips me. I don’t know what to do: my new car is like a runaway train. My seatbelt bites into my shoulder as violent swerves toss me from one side to the other. The yelling is gettinglouder. Who is in the car with me? I can’t take my eyes from the road to see. The yellow line is a slithering snake and my arm muscles tear from their sockets but I won’t give in. I’m fighting for my life. Somehow, I make it around the next bend but my car fishtails. I’m sliding sideways and heading straight for a tree. The engine roars like some evil being has taken over. I can’t stop it.
Someone is screaming—is it me? The tree is there right in front of me. A deafening bang and a shattering jolt throws my head back, wrenching my neck. I’m flying forward, my teeth slam together and I taste blood in my mouth. Windows explode and glass shatters like diamonds. Metal grinds and a cloud of suffocating white hits my face. The back of the car bounces as it settles on the blacktop. A horn shrieks and then silence. Darkness is closing in around me.Where are my kids?
ONE
12 MONTHS BEFORE THE ACCIDENT
I remember the perfect times. When I look at my handsome husband, John, and wonder why he chose me. You see, he turns heads everywhere he goes and—a gorgeous stockbroker—he’s not only the epitome of success but his charm is legendary too. Our marriage, now eight years strong, is like a fairy tale. We have beautiful six-year-old twins, Emily and Olivia, who bring joy and laughter into our lives every day. We purchased a house in Grande Haven, an upmarket gated community, which is a sanctuary, a place where love and happiness thrives. My life with John is perfect—a society couple, with a joining of wealth and position everyone envies—but I know for certain we married for love. Our lives together are like a magazine center spread of a loving devoted couple. Well, this was the case until recently. Now everything is falling like dominoes.
The man who couldn’t wait to get home to me now comes home late—if he comes home at all. The excuses are always the same—late meetings, urgent client calls, and more frequently the unexpected business trips. At first, I believed him. Why shouldn’t I? His dedication to his work means we live here, in absolute luxury. I can stay at home with my kids, play tennis, orgo out for lunch, but lately, doubt has started to creep in, like the grim reaper lurking in the corners of my mind.
Pushing the bad thoughts away, I try to focus on the good times. I’ll never forget the way John used to look at me with love burning in his eyes. He’d tell me over and over again how I was his world. I loved the way he played with the girls, making them giggle with his silly antics. Each day, he’s becoming more remote. He comes home, falls into bed, and is asleep in seconds but then gone before I wake. He hasn’t spoken to the girls in weeks and the distance between us is growing by the second.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s having an affair. The thought gnaws at me, keeping me awake at night, even when he’s beside me, his back turned away, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. I replay every interaction, every conversation, searching for clues, but I’m falling into an abyss of confusion and questioning everything.
I walk into the family room and the silence is deafening. The girls are asleep, and the house is an empty vessel without John’s presence. I used to love this room and spent endless hours making it perfect. From the soft sofas with matching throws and scattered cushions, right down to the little nook, with a table and bookcase where the girls can play. I sit and stare out over the landscaped gardens and see the moon reflected in the pool—a big blue-white orb in a cloudless sky. Everything is so tranquil but my mind is in turmoil. The quiet is eating me up and the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant ticking of the grandfather clock are the only sounds that break the silence. I lift my phone from the coffee table; my fingers tremble as I scroll through John’s messages. They are short, to the point, and the emojis he always loves to add are missing as if someone is reading them over his shoulder, and that only makes me more suspicious. He’s too careful, too meticulous.
I can’t speak to my friends; it would be all over town in twenty-four hours. The last time we had a fight, his mother turned up to act as referee. That woman will never understand her little boy is a grown man now and doesn’t need her to fight his battles. I need to talk to someone but who can I confide in? My brother, Michael, has always been my rock, the one person I trust completely. I make the call. “Can you come over? I need to talk to you. I need advice.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in twenty.”Michael disconnects.
Indecision now plagues me. Am I making too much out of a feeling? I head to the kitchen and brew a pot of coffee. The box of fresh pastries I’d purchased for our once-regular movie night sits on the table untouched and I flip open the lid. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the scent of the pastries, but I shut the box, unable to eat.
The doorbell chimes and my brother greets me with a hug. We sit at the kitchen table and I tell him my concerns and show him the messages. Michael listens patiently, and his brow furrows with worry. I push the pastries toward him. “Do you figure I’m making too much of this?”
“Jessie, you need to talk to him.” Michael’s voice is like a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. “You can’t let this stress you out like this. It’ll eat you alive.”
The thought of confronting John terrifies me. I shake my head. “I can’t. What if I’m wrong? What if I’m right? Either way, our lives will never be the same.” I stare at him. “We have a prenup. If we divorce, I’ll only have what I brought into the marriage and that’s gone now.”
“Are you saying, all this is his, and he never gave you anything?” Michael’s eyes widen. “I figured he loved you.”
I wipe a hand down my face. “Obviously not enough to be faithful. I can’t prove he’s cheating on me. It might be all in my mind, but he did come home stinking of perfume and he said itwas from a client he shared a cab with. Now I’m not so sure.” I look at him and tears sting my eyes. “Am I imagining all this because I’m lonely and need to blame someone? You’ve always said I have an overactive imagination. I’m starting to question my sanity right now.”
“All I can say, being in the same business, is that the higher we want to climb, the harder we need to work.” Michael reaches for a pastry. “I know John has clients lining up for representation. He makes them money and is moving up through the firm faster than anyone else. I have women clients as well and they hit on me all the time.” He takes a bite of the pastry and hums in appreciation.
That piece of information hasn’t helped my troubled mind. “He gets women hitting on him all the time and I’ve never felt like this before. We had date nights and he made time to be with me but that’s stopped. He doesn’t touch me anymore. Men need sex, right? So where is he getting his supply?”
“Whoa.” Michael holds the pastry midway to his mouth. “That’s not something I need to know, Jessie.” He sighs. “Look, I’ll do some detective work and see if I can find out anything but remember, he’s way above my pay grade. I don’t want to lose my job by snooping but I’ll see what I can find out. Okay?”
My stomach drops. Finding out the truth, if heishaving an affair, will break my heart. “Then what will I do if he wants a divorce? I’ve got nowhere to go, no money, no job.”
“Mom and Dad will get you settled some other place if you don’t want to return home. I can help too, so don’t worry about that. You do what feels right.” Michael pats my hand. “I hate to say it but we both know Grandma isn’t long for this world and Mom will inherit a fortune. Mom has been spending every day sitting with her. You should go and see her, before it’s too late.” He sighs. “You know how much she dotes on you.”
The thought of losing my grandma makes my heart ache. My safe havens, the people I love, are vanishing like mist in the morning sunshine. My world is crumbling around me. Lost in my thoughts, I realize this is the beginning of a journey that will unravel everything I believe I knew about my life, my marriage, and myself.
TWO
NOW
Beep, beep, beep.
I’m here in the darkness but where is here? I try to move my legs but they’re heavy as if stuck in thick black tar. Am I dead? Is this what death feels like? In my personal darkness I drag in a breath and feel the air flowing out of my nose. Maybe not dead then. My eyelids are heavy, so heavy as if they’d been taped down, but I try to force them open. A blinding light comes through my eyelashes. Is this the light I must follow? My brain is muddled; how did I end up dead? What is that beeping sound? It’s starting to drive me insane.
My tongue moves in a dry mouth and swats across cracked lips. Perhaps I’ve been frozen and I’m slowly thawing. I must concentrate harder to open my eyes. Suddenly, light comes in a blur of color, and moving patterns dance across my vision. Green and brown leopard spots mingle with sparkling orbs as they wave back and forth. Slowly my eyes adjust to the light and I see a window in front of me and, beyond, the branches of a tree in fall. I see a garden and rose bushes. I know this place. A memory of picking roses with my mom and bringing armfuls into the house drifts past like smoke. I want to see more but my lids are heavy and drop down, obscuring my view. It’s been aneffort to concentrate as if I’m drugged, or coming out of heavy sedation. After surgery for a broken ankle, I remember how difficult it was to wake up. Maybe this is what’s happened? I don’t remember.
