The Ninth Goodbye: My Husband's Cruel Bet

sband left me standing on the shoulder of th

n't even hesitate as t

girlfriend, Isabelle, called to say s

ring not from the cold, but from the r

ladder surgery to supp

ndmother's funeral t

s far crueler th

levator accident that left me with a permane

utching his arm. "I bet you that I could make you leave her n

was a game. A wager between lover

. I didn't m

cked my sketchbooks, and vanishe

us found me in a small

rated sculptor, and I was holding the hand of a

to my studio, dem

pped between us, c

espassing,

to my wife!"

looking at the man who ha

ftly. "And you're late. A

pte

ie

on the shoulder of the Montauk Highway in a blinding thunderstorm

of his Porsche di

et of rain, swallowing the last fi

ring not from the cold, but from the bone-de

t a crisis. I cal

nt, and I was just the scholarship student with paint permanently stained on her han

ommate, int

ble. Someone safe. I didn't know then that "sa

sed to me a week later. I thought it was passion. I th

was a

y slush over my legs. My phone was dead, a useless brick in my clutch. My body was bu

the heat radiating off my skin when

in, his eyes had glazed over. It was that specific, terrify

, Marcus.

s all i

e to call an Uber. He said, "Don't be

freezing rain mix with the hot

hit me harder

forms alone while he was at a polo match in

seat next to me, gaping like a wound

that stage, smiling until my jaw ached, sca

at finally went deep en

an Uber. I s

eavy, wet thud ag

p for t

for the h

n I used to be before

ently my teeth clacked together. The doorman looked at me wi

led like his expensive cologne an

bedroom. I went str

for business trips. I didn't pa

he deed to the small plot of land

Her mascara was running in dark rivulets, her hair was plastered t

e in five years,

The diamond was heavy. A shac

tching on the swollen, feverish skin of

it sli

teries and junk mail. I dropped the ring inside

otes are for people who

d out the door, and let the

the hallway, and it sou