“Oh, yes… I’ve lost people too. My husband died, but you don’t see that stopping me from living my life.” Eleanor nods as she speaks as if she’s giving me some sort of motivational speech, but the only thing she’s motivating me to do is to flip this table into her and walk out the door.

I relax my hands, looking down at them for a moment. There are small bloody puncture wounds on each palm. I clutch my napkin and take a deep breath. I can get through this. I’ve endured worse. The waitress sets down my vodka soda and two Manhattans. I take mine and drink nearly the entire thing. Eleanor is still talking about how I should live my life and how Adam is not at fault.

“…and addiction clearly runs in your family, Sarah. You might just be addicted to your work. I’m just trying to help and I want to make sure Adam is getting the best defense possible.” She takes a slow sip of her Manhattan, while holding eye contact with me.

“He has the best defense possible and it bodes well for Adam that his wife of ten years is not only standing behind him but is also defending him in the matter.”

“It’s the least you can do, Sarah. Now, are you sure you’re equipped to handle this?” She attempts to raise an eyebrow, but her Botox infested face isn’t able to comply.

“I’m positive.”

“Well, I suppose your work addiction will provide a benefit for once.” Eleanor smirks.

My eyes nearly roll out of their sockets. “I suppose it will.”

“Ugh. I really wish you would have paid more attention to my son and upheld your wifely duties. Adam wouldn’t be in this predicament otherwise. Such a shame.” She shakes her head as she speaks.

She’ll keep going on all evening unless I tell her what she wants to hear. I take a deep breath.

“You’re right, Eleanor. I should have been a better wife to Adam. But I promise you this, I will be better now, and I’ll make sure Adam gets the justice he deserves,” I say with a stern nod.

The waitress sets down the first course.

Eleanor smiles back at me. “I knew you’d see it my way. Now, let’s enjoy our meal.”

24. Adam Morgan

24

Adam Morgan

Once again, I find myself lying in a metal bunk with a mattress I swear is as thick as a piece of cardboard. I’ve spent sixty of the last seventy-two hours lying in this bed thinking about how I got here. I’m still not sure how I went from having an affair to being the primary suspect for the murder of my mistress. How did I end up here?