My mother’s words play over and over in my head as we walk back to the car after the party. ‘She’s a sweetheart, Royce. Don’t break her heart.’ Her words repeat in my head and are so damn true; I’m scared to death. I’ll do anything in my power not to hurt this woman. I just don’t know if she’ll give me the chance to prove it.

My shoes pound against the pavement and with each step I wish more and more that my sister had a longer driveway. We reach the car quicker than my courage can materialize, and when she reaches out for her door handle, it takes me a moment to realize it’s now or never.

“Wait, I have something for you,” I tell her, hitting the key remote to open the trunk.

She retracts her hand and stands surprised as I walk to the back of the car and pull out a large wrapped present.

“I think I’ve had enough surprises for one night,” she says with a giggle.

“I’m hoping you might actually want this one, though,” I say, handing her the gift. The box is huge; I could barely fit it in the trunk, and she has to set it on the cement to open it.

She looks at me suspiciously and I have to urge her to tear open the wrapping paper. When the flaps of the box open and reveal the hundreds of Ping-Pong balls inside, her brows pull together in confusion.

“There’s a card,” I explain before she can ask.

Reaching into the box, her hands maneuver around the little white balls trying to find the card. I want to laugh, but my nerves stifle the notion. She finally finds the envelope and rips it open, pulling out the card inside.

“I finally found the balls to ask you out,” she reads aloud.

Her silence has me freaking the fuck out. I was hoping to score points for creativity, but I’m thinking my move ended up immature. Just as I open my mouth to explain, grovel, apologize, take your pick, she burst into laughter.

She laughs so hard tears pour down her cheeks, and I’m speechless. I don’t know if I’ve insulted her, if I blew my chance, but I’m thinking I’m in danger of being slapped.

She dries her eyes with the back of her jacket sleeve and takes a deep breath. She doesn’t say yes, she doesn’t say no, she says nothing at all. No, Carly steps forward, moves up onto her tip-toes, and kisses me.

I’m shocked at first, but then I take over, deepening a kiss that I’ve waited weeks to relive. When my lips touch hers, I taste a future I never thought I would have, and with every passing second I become more and more addicted to a love I could never let go of.

Carly

The mountain of paperwork in the backseat is staggeringly overwhelming. When my lawyer called today and asked me to pick it all up and go through it, I was expecting a few folders, not an entire box. The accountant hired to audit our accounts for the divorce case found things that needed explaining, so instead of the date Royce and I had planned for the evening, here I am, going through it all.

“Label and identify all accounts and transactions that you’re familiar with,” is what the accountant said. The task is daunting, since I never really concerned myself with our financials. Jack always took care of everything; he is an investment banker after all. I’m not sure what help I would be with all of this.

Thankfully, Vivian and Brooks are keeping Olivia to work on their group Halloween costumes and Leah is staying the night at a friend’s house so I can spend the evening trudging through the numbers.

I hoist my purse over my shoulder and open the backseat to load the cardboard box into my arms; I’m shocked by the weight. Never in a million years would I have thought we would have money in so many places and accounts and real estate ventures with my name on them. Joint savings and checking accounts and life insurance policies were all I was aware of.

Apparently, Jack was keeping more than just a vasectomy from me.

My phone dings just as I reach the steps to the house. I struggle to quickly unlock the door and get inside. I nearly drop the box and its contents on the ground before I can get it deposited onto my kitchen table. Digging through my purse on my way to my bedroom, I finally find my phone and the text message waiting for me.

Royce: Are you sure you don’t want me to come help, maybe just keep you company?

I pause in the hallway to think about my answer. Would I like him to come over? Yes. Should he come over? No. I’m about to dive into a swimming pool of lies, and I don’t want to depend on him as my life preserver. I need to face this mess, this sham of a marriage on my own, and it might be a very emotional experience. I don’t want him here to see that, to see me like that.

Me: Thank you for offering, but I need to do this alone.

I shoot off the text and walk into my bedroom. Flipping on the light, I notice the light is on in the master bathroom. Leah must have forgotten to shut it off before she left for her friend’s house. I turn it off and head to my armoire in my closet to hang up my scarf and put away my jewelry from the day when my phone dings again.

Royce: I’m booorrrred.

I laugh, thinking about him rolling his eyes and giving his best pretend whine, like Olivia would. I slip off my shoes and kick them to the back of the closet as I type my response.

Me: I’m sure the boys are up to something. Give them a holler.

I’m rummaging through my pajama draw when my phone buzzes again.

Royce: Shitty alternative. I may or may not show up on your doorstep. Skip the sweatpants and wear something pretty for me. Love ya, pink.

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, but I can’t help but smile. Deciding to play it safe, I select the yoga pants instead of the cozy flannel set I had planned on wearing. The silly smile on my face is still in place as I lift my eyes from the drawer of clothes to the mirror attached to the dresser.

I’m shocked by what I see.

Jack.

When my eyes meet his, my smile disappears and is quickly replaced with fear.

I drop the clothes and try to punch the buttons on the phone. Before I can scream, before I can run, he hits me across the back of the head with something hard and unforgiving. I feel the blood drip from the wound as I fall to the floor.

I fight to remain conscious, but the darkness is too much and I drowned in the softness of its embrace. A black abyss surrounds me and my mind tumbles away from the reality of the moment. I hear his footsteps and see his hand pick up my phone before the blackness takes me.

The throbbing in my head is provoking waves of nausea like I have never known. I try to cover my mouth, but my hands are frozen, stuck in place. I struggle against the ropes which bind my hands behind the chair I’m sitting in, but it’s futile. They are tight, and every time I move, they bite my skin even more. My head is down and shoulders are slouched, but I try to take in my surroundings. I slowly crack open my eyes but the light forces them shut again and exacerbates the pain in my head.

I hear a defeated moan escape my lips followed by footsteps. His boots against the tile cause me to freeze, pretend like I’m still unconscious.

“No need to pretend, Carly,” Jack whispers next to my ear. “I know you’re awake. Besides, our other guest will be here soon, and you won’t want to miss it.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask hesitantly as I work to open my eyes.

“Why?” he huffs, pacing in front of me. I can feel the anger rolling off him and it terrifies me.

“Please, Jack. Let me go. I haven’t done anything to you,” I plead, my voice trembling from the tears I’m holding at bay and the knot in my throat.

“You took everything from me, you stupid bitch!” he roars as his hand flies back and swings forward connecting with the side of my face. My head snaps to one side and a light flashes behind my eyelids. The violent impact makes my head pound and the nausea to spike, causing bile to rise in my throat.