The Memory Watcher - A Psychological Thriller by Minka Kent

Author:Minka Kent [Kent, Minka]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-09T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Seven

Daphne

“Kindly ask your mistress if she could not drive past our house in broad daylight.” I crawl beneath the covers tonight, keeping a careful distance between myself and my husband.

The air is thick with silence, and he doesn’t move.

“What?” he asks a moment later.

“You heard me.” I reach for my lamp and turn out the light, rolling to my side, my back toward him.

It’s been a day.

Addison left early today because she had college cheer camp, which I didn’t know was a thing in the summer, and I’m pretty sure she was lying about it just to get out of work early. The kids were hopped up on candy and junk food, and they didn’t want to sit still for dinner, let alone eat dinner. By bedtime they were all whining that they were hungry, but I told them the kitchen was closed and sent them off to brush their teeth. Grace and Rose fought over who got to use the sparkly princess toothpaste first, and Sebastian jumped on his bed, kicking off the blankets and pillows and refusing to stop.

And Graham . . . Graham was “working late” once again.

“Can we just stop?” I spit my words, pressing my cheek hard against the pillow. The warmth of his hand on my shoulder makes me shudder.

“Daphne,” he says. I brace myself for a torrential downpour of excuses, lies, and alibies, ones he’s practiced for months, readying himself for this moment. “How long have you known?”

Flinging the covers off me, I scramble out of bed. I can’t be next to him right now.

“A while,” I answer once I’m standing before the window.

The soft pad of his bare feet on carpet follows, and though I don’t see him, I feel him behind me, breathing, existing, wasting this beautiful space we’ve created.

He doesn’t say anything, which tells me he’s deep in contemplation, and it hits me that perhaps I’m going about this all wrong. Maybe he’s been one step ahead of me this whole time, being careless with his activities because he wants to get caught. In his mind, maybe if he gets caught and I’m the one who ends things, he won’t be the bad guy.

God damn it.

“Daphne-”

“Save it.” I grab a silk robe from the back of an armchair in the corner and drape it over my shoulders. I’m going to go downstairs, pour myself a drink, and sit in the dark.

There’s a thump behind me, and when I stop and turn, I find Graham on a heap in the floor, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands hiding his face.

I’ve known this man almost twenty years, and I’ve never seen him like this before. Ever.

“What are you doing?” I don’t go to him, I don’t sympathize with him. “Get off the floor.”

“Daphne, I’m so sorry.” He cries, like a man-child, into the palms of his hands. His shoulders rise and fall, quick jerks between near-silent sobs. “Forgive me.”

“Seriously?”

He glances up at me, his blue eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, and then he brings himself to my level, reaching for me.

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