“Can they come stay with you, on the day I serve the papers?” I asked. “I’m going to the lake with him on Friday. I’d like you guys to fly into town, take Mikey and Sam back home with you.” Buck touched my knee and I remembered to add, “I’m going to have security following you. And the moving van will come and move our things out as soon as we’re on the road.”
“Of course. We’ll be there. Do you want us to come now?” she asked. I imagined her frightened eyes. I know my dad’s were squinting in anger.
“No, we’ll stay here until Thursday. Get an early flight. We can’t see the grandsons until Friday, Phyllis, or we’d tip that nutjob off,” my dad said.
“Exactly, Dad. And, Dad, is there time to draw up a separation agreement with an accompanying dissolution? I don’t want any record of being with him, not ever again,” I said. I’d been trying to be strong but with those words a sob escaped.
“Oh, honey, yes, we’ll screw the bastard,” Dad said.
“I want to come hug you right now,” Mom said. “Are you alone? We’ve been afraid he’s been isolating you.”
I took a deep breath and Buck took my hand in his. “Yes, he has been cutting me off from you, from everyone. But I have a friend here with me. His company specializes in global security. I’m safe until you arrive. And I’ll fly to you and the boys as soon as I can.”
“Well, thank God. Tell that man—what’s his name?” Dad asked.
“Buck, Buck Overford,” I said, meeting Buck’s eyes as he wiped a tear from under mine. Over the phone line I heard my dad writing Buck’s name down to check him out. It made me smile even as I wondered if it would have done any good if my dad had run a background check on Paul before I married him. His record was clean.
“Tell Buck he has our gratitude and to keep you and the boys safe,” my dad said. “I need to call the attorney. Check in with your mom and me, every day until Friday. Understood?”
“Understood. And thanks, both of you,” I said. I was right not to tell them about the poisoning yet. I knew I couldn’t stop my worried mom from coming to town if I had.
Our plan worked perfectly. The day was outlined step-by-step, with the only hiccup being that Paul took the telephone call on our way out the door. I knew it wasn’t important, whatever woman of his it was, but I couldn’t show my frustration when he finally got into the car. In fact, the entire day was a grand acting job, trying to keep my fear in check as I rode in a car, alone, next to my husband, a man who was trying to kill me.
In hindsight, I’m not sure how I stayed even as calm as I did that day. I’d grabbed a People magazine and tried to keep my mind on other people’s scandals, but I couldn’t. My only consolation was coded texts from Claudia letting me know that my parents had swooped by the school and picked up the boys. I had left a note with the principal, explaining how their grandparents had a special weekend planned. The stop for croissants was to give me a moment to confirm the boys were en route to the airport with my parents. Once I knew they were safe, I felt better.
Claudia let me know when the moving van arrived, and that everything marked had been loaded into the van. In addition to my parents, she was my hero that day, supported by a team of two of Buck’s guys. One of the guys was “super cute” according to Claudia. That had made me smile as I spoke to her outside on the sidewalk on Second Street, finally away from Paul for a moment after our lunch at Sloopy’s.
I remember how much I wanted to run away from Paul at that moment. The boys were safe, all of my belongings were packed up and driving away. But there was still one more step. We needed him to sign the dissolution papers. And then Paul had walked out of Sloopy’s, squinting in the bright sunshine, looking like the handsome man I’d married. Sure, ten years had taken a little toll, and he had a small pouch around his tummy I used to like to tease him about, but still. His smile was bright and it seemed just for me. Part of me still admired the way he walked toward me with a swagger in his step. The confidence. All of those things drew me to him; all of those things almost killed me. In that moment I could almost forget we were enemies. Almost.
The other thing that kept me from running was the fact Buck would be waiting for me at the cottage. Where Paul had swagger, Buck had substance. I realize the difference now. And even though I wouldn’t be able to fall into Buck’s arms, not yet, I would be able to stand next to him. Absorb more strength with him by my side. As Paul pulled the Ford Flex into the driveway of our cottage I almost didn’t wait for the car to stop moving before opening the door. Walking as fast as I could without running, I made it to the garden. And there was Buck, as promised. He smiled, his dimple showing. Calming my nerves.
“Take a deep breath, Mia. It’s all going to be over soon,” he said. We were standing side by side, pretending to look at the strawberry beds. “You have this. You are safe. Hear me? Are you okay?”
“Now, yes,” I said. I could feel Paul approaching us from behind as chills spread down my spine. As relieved as I was to finally stand next to Buck, I knew I had a long night in front of me. I just had no idea at the time how long the night would become.
My finest piece of acting had to be at the restaurant that night. I was forced to leave the safety of Buck’s presence at our cottage, and climb back into the car with my husband. It was part of the plan, of course, and necessary to provide Buck with the opportunity to search Paul’s things, and to get them dropped off at the inn. He also used the time to make sure all of the cameras he’d placed inside the cottage were working. He tested the panic button he’d installed earlier in the week. It worked, thank goodness.
While Buck set the rest of our trap, I suffered through our last supper. The meal was torture, even with the kind waiter trying to protect me from Paul’s ugly comments. Every moment of that supposed-to-be-elegant dinner was an act: trying to pretend I was sitting across from someone I still loved when actually I hated him, hate him still. My mind flashed to the photo of a young woman’s battered face, and then to one of Paul holding up a nightgown as he flirted with a different young woman, who I now know is named Gretchen, at a lingerie store. And even though there was no photo of it until after our dinner, as he tampered with my brandy, I saw white powder in his gloved hands, stirred into my evening tea, swirled into my Greek yogurt.
All of his lies, all of his manipulations coursed through my mind during that dinner but I couldn’t accuse him of anything, I couldn’t tip my hand.