I placed my wineglass next to a fresh bouquet of flowers Grant had bought me. Presumably guilt flowers for his online dating excursions that I hadn’t yet confronted him about but planned to soon. Tomorrow, in fact. He had accepted my alter ego’s invitation to meet for drinks at Boot Scooters, a bar he knew I’d never go to without him. I’d told Ryan it was a surprise date night I had planned and I needed him to babysit. Grant had already lied through his teeth about meeting up with a friend for a beer. I’d even picked out my sexiest silk black dress to make sure it still fit—and I looked damn good in it too.

I played it like a movie in my head, rewinding it over and over. He’d be sitting at the bar watching for his temptress, then lo and behold, here I’d come, placing a hand on his shoulder, looking like a million bucks. His eyes would widen, searching for a hiding place, and he’d stammer through a series of lies and excuses about why he was there. I’d play along for as long as it took to finish a martini, then I’d cut to the chase.

I’d want half of everything, plus the house. Alimony payments until I felt like supporting myself, plus full custody of the kids along with a healthy child support check. And if he denied me? Well, I knew how to spread gossip like spreading dirt on a wall. Especially since most of his patients’ moms were friends of mine in the PTA. Grant’s reputation would be ruined, taking down him and his thriving medical practice. So really, what choice would he have?

I didn’t want to be that kind of woman—the woman scorned. But he’d forced me here, hadn’t he? It was merely a matter of payback’s bitchiness at work.

No, I wouldn’t dwell on such things anymore. Today I would enjoy the calm before the storm, then tomorrow let the thunder come. Sixty minutes all for me. The temptation to online browse Wayfair’s “must-have clearance décor!” pulled on me, but I resisted. I could refuse my urges, just like I would refuse Grant’s begging for forgiveness tomorrow night. Instead, I set down my phone and prepared to vegetate. It was the most precious time of week, but when the phone rings, may God smite the person who interrupts me time.

I had just queued up Stranger Things when the doorbell rang. If I weren’t worried it’d wake up Collette and Lucas I might have ignored it. Muttering my way to the door, I answered it, prepared to politely tell the Jehovah’s Witness I expected to go peddle their Watchtower someplace else. What I didn’t expect was to see a police car parked in my driveway and a plainclothes detective standing on my front porch.

An impulsive breeze blew in behind him.