It’s Always the Husband: the Sunday Times bestselling thriller for fans of THE MARRIAGE PACT. Michele Campbell
Aubrey said, shooting Jenny a glance. So Aubrey was judgmental now, too? Used to be, it was only Jenny who looked askance.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Kate mumbled, coloring. Was she really letting these losers make her feel bad?
“Just a splash for me, I have to pick up the kids,” Jenny said.
“Me, too,” Aubrey said.
Kate poured an inch of wine for each of them and made a show of filling her own glass to the brim. If she needed the entire bottle to get through this conversation, she’d chug the damn thing, and they couldn’t stop her.
“So,” Jenny began. “We wanted to talk about how we can best help you settle in here.”
“Thank you, but I don’t want help.”
“You need it, trust me,” Jenny said. “This town has a long memory. People remember what happened, and they still care.”
“I knew you’d throw that in my face. I didn’t think you’d have the gall to do it the second I walked in the door.”
“I’m trying to help. That’s all,” Jenny said.
“Did you not hear me the first time? I don’t want your help.”
Jenny sighed and looked at Aubrey. Of course the two of them were in cahoots on this. Kate was the one whose life had been ruined, and the two of them got to act like the victims.
“Kate,” Aubrey said, “it may not make sense that people would still care, but Jenny’s right. We want to help you—”
“You don’t give a shit about me,” Kate said. “You’re covering your own asses, both of you. I get it. So let me set your mind at ease. Nobody’s more upset than me that I’m back here. I hate this town. I hate this house. I hate the college. I hate my loser of a husband. And after everything that’s happened, frankly, I hate the two of you. So no worries. I don’t plan to stick around long.”
Two Months Later
At 9 A.M. on Labor Day, Aubrey was doing yoga in the studio off her kitchen, desperately trying to quiet her mind. She had three hours till Jenny’s big barbecue, and Ethan still hadn’t come home from wherever he’d spent the night before. Goddamn him, he’d promised. Aubrey could hear the kids moving around upstairs. It was past time to get their breakfast, but she couldn’t face them yet. Not again, not like this. Viv was still too young to understand, but Lilly was starting to see through the lies. And Logan had known for a while now. Sorry pal, the story’s not working, she told Ethan in her mind. He could have the latest girlfriend buzz his pager and claim there was an emergency at the hospital, as had happened last night. But nobody believed him anymore, not even Aubrey, the stupidest fool in town.
Aubrey went into a deep backbend. Hot tears rolled down her temples and plopped softly on the mat. Why was she the one crying? She wanted to make Ethan cry, Ethan and whatever tramp he was with this time. She had this studio built ten years ago, after the first time she caught him. She’d done it to punish him, really. It replaced his home office, and cost a mint, with big windows and bamboo floors. He deserved to pay, after what he put her through. Ethan Saxman, MD, had seemed like the answer to Aubrey’s prayers once, back when she was a starving grad student and he was resident at Carlisle General with a bright future ahead of him. She hadn’t asked a lot of questions; she’d grabbed him and held on tight. The old adage was true in her case: marry in haste, repent at leisure. In retrospect, it was clear that Ethan had always been a cheater, but Aubrey hadn’t wanted to see it. She’d been happy at the beginning, for years really, when they were newlyweds, and after the kids were born. Aubrey stayed home and enjoyed her children, and didn’t complain when Ethan was gone a lot. She closed her eyes. Well, she’d paid the price for that.
Aubrey had admitted to herself that Ethan was cheating only when she had caught him in the act. That was about ten years ago now. Ethan had claimed he was going to a conference in Philadelphia. The weather had turned hot, and she decided to take the kids to the lake, even though they hadn’t officially opened the cabin yet. When Aubrey pulled into the driveway, Ethan’s car was there – his, and another. She told Logan to stay put and watch his sisters, then walked up to the front door, breathing as hard as if she’d just run through the woods. She was terrified. She’d suspected for a long time, but to find out for sure would change things forever, and she knew it. Of what happened next, Aubrey recalled only fragments. A wineglass tipped over, clothing strewn across the floor in the harsh morning light. In the bedroom, Ethan with a shocked look on his face, and the redheaded nurse with her pale white breasts. Then the noise, the screaming – which turned out to be Aubrey herself, and then Logan, after he rushed in to help her. Poor, poor child, to bear witness to something like that. She tried to protect them. And that was the problem. Aubrey longed to walk away from her marriage, but she had her children to think of, and no way to support them. She knew how it felt to grow up with no father and no money. She refused to do that to them, so she stayed, and chose to believe Ethan’s promises that he wouldn’t betray her again.
But he did. The second time Ethan got caught (though she realized now that there must have been other times in between) was about five years later, and it wasn’t by Aubrey. The young resident resigned when Ethan dumped her and sued the hospital for sexual harassment. Ethan had to pay money to hush it up. He needed wifey by his side to ride out the scandal, so she had leverage this time. She also had the good sense to go to Jenny for advice. Mayor Jenny and her husband Tim were knee-deep in real estate deals in Riverside, the old industrial part of Belle River, which was gentrifying rapidly. Oh, there were whispers about the legality, but Aubrey didn’t judge. With Jenny’s help, she took their nest egg and bought a majority stake in a renovated loft building – in her name, not Ethan’s. She’d been practicing yoga seriously for over twenty years at that point, and teaching it for almost as long. (She’d discovered yoga at Carlisle in her Eastern Religions class, and fallen in love with it because of its ancient roots. Besides, it was the one physical activity she was ever naturally good at.) She’d always taught part-time, just to get out of the house, and make a little money of her own. Now that she owned a building, Aubrey decided to open her own yoga studio. With the following she’d established over her years of teaching, Riverside Breathe was an instant success, and she had plenty of space left over to rent out to paying tenants. She was a businesswoman now, with a decent income. She had the means to walk away if she was willing to make some financial sacrifices, and here Ethan was, up to his old tricks. She’d promised herself she would leave him if she caught him a third time. But did she have the guts?
Aubrey did a round of sun salutations that failed to smooth her skittish heartbeat, then took child’s pose, seeking peace and consolation. The cat walked in and started meowing at her, but she ignored him. That damn cat. He liked Ethan best, and always seemed to know when his master was coming home. At that moment, with her forehead pressed to the mat, Aubrey heard the garage door go up. Ethan was home, and she would have to deal with him now. Aubrey rolled her mat into a tight coil and shoved it in the cubby under the window seat. She’d go meet him in the garage, where the kids wouldn’t hear them fight.
“Mom, Dad’s home!” Viv shouted, bouncing into the studio in her pajamas and bare feet. “Can I have a Pop-Tart?”
“No.”
Viv was seven, gap-toothed, adorable, and used to getting her own way. “I’ll ask Dad. He’ll say yes.”
“Vivian, I said no.”
Aubrey’s voice came out so tentatively that Viv ignored her and skipped off toward the garage. Aubrey stood there wringing her hands. She couldn’t confront Ethan with Viv watching. The reckoning would have to wait. She went downstairs and took up position at the kitchen island, facing the door that led to the garage, steeling herself. What would she say to him when he walked through that door? She wanted to scream, to throw something, wave the butcher knife. Every solution crossed her mind. To stay, to leave, to rush at him, screaming. But she wouldn’t