Chapters (87)
- TITLE PAGE
- COPYRIGHT
- DEDICATION
- CONTENTS
- START READING
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SIXTY
- CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER EIGHTY
- EPILOGUE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ADAM
Our house in the Mount Baker neighborhood of Seattle is—was—an apt indicator of the state of our situation. The remodeling project that had cost us more than we could afford has been on hold for a few weeks. The contractor doing the floors screwed up and installed some bullshit engineered crap when we were very, very specific about what we wanted. Sophie even more than me. I went ballistic on the guy, who barely spoke English—or at least pretended not to be as fluent as he had been when we hired him. I probably scared the crap out of him. I hope I did. At the time of my tirade, scaring him into making good on the contract was the point.
“You want me to call Homeland Security on you?” I actually asked.
Sophie gave me a look. I’d gone too far.
When Carlos left, she turned to me and let me have it.
“You know,” she said, her eyes popping a little, “I get that the flooring situation isn’t what we wanted, but you don’t need to threaten a man’s family, Adam. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know the man I married.”
I didn’t say so, but I considered it at the time: Sometimes I don’t even know the woman I sleep with every night.
And now she’s gone. The arguments are over. Permanently. I never had the chance to tell her that I didn’t really intend to send Carlos packing for the border, that I really wasn’t the hard-ass she thought I was.
I look at my watch’s showy dial, bigger than a manhole cover. Helen and Frank were due at seven to return Aubrey. They are never, ever late. I drink some Maker’s and wander around our unfinished house. I’m not exactly sure why I started boxing up some of her things, but that’s what I find myself doing. Maybe Helen finding Sophie’s old nightgown in the garage and giving it to Aubrey was the trigger. Or maybe I drank too much whiskey.
Yeah, that could be it.