Chapters (88)
- Cover
- Praise for The Girl I Used to Be
- ALSO BY MARY TORJUSSEN
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Eighteen months earlier
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Emma
- Ruby
- Emma
- Emma
- Emma
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- Ruby
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Readers Guide
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
That afternoon, as soon as Sarah had left work for the weekend, I’d tapped at his office door and said, “Tonight?”
His face had lit up and I knew that he loved me. “Tonight.”
“You’re sure? It’s not too late to back out.”
He nodded. “I’m absolutely sure,” he said. “I promise.”
• • •
An hour later my skin was pink and soggy with the heat of the water and I hauled myself out of the bath. I knew he wouldn’t come that night, but I thought of the next morning, of him arriving at the hotel while I slept, coming into my room and kissing me awake. As I smoothed body lotion into my skin and brushed my teeth, ready for sleep, I thought of him at home right then, thought of them arguing, him telling his wife he loved me. His wife crying. I caught my eye in the mirror and looked away. It was his suggestion we got together, I reminded myself. He said it would all work out, that he and Emma were unhappy together. That he loved me and wanted to be with me.
Still, though, when I put on moisturizer I didn’t look at my reflection in the mirror, and when I turned off the lamps and lay in the darkness, my face was hot with shame.
CHAPTER 6
Ruby
I woke with a jolt at seven the next morning. The curtains in the hotel room were thick and the room was dark. For a moment I thought I was in my bedroom at home with Tom beside me, but when I stretched out my leg and found nothing but the cool sheets, I remembered everything.
Last night I was awake until the early hours thinking of all possible scenarios: maybe Emma had clung to him, shrieking, unable to cope with him leaving. My stomach dropped. Did that mean he’d feel he could never leave? Maybe he’d had an accident on his way home. I’d checked and checked the local news and travel sites on my phone and there was nothing reported, but then there was only usually a report when a road was blocked or there’d been a fatal accident. Because of his business he was well-known enough in the local community for anything like that to be reported. I breathed a sigh of relief; at least there was nothing about that online.