The Good Husband by John Kaine

The Good Husband by John Kaine

Author:John Kaine [Kaine, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2020-09-14T22:00:00+00:00


47

The air of excitement in the house was a welcome change from the indefinable frostiness of the past few months. The living room floor was littered with gifts, and when Zoey extracted a huge model airplane from one of the bags Cody yelped, did a little dance, his face a picture of happiness and awe. Jon thought Zoey’s gift was acceptance; she had come to terms with her son’s chosen career path. And Cody seemed to think the same. Jon caught him knuckling a tear out of his eye before it could fall and possibly open the floodgates. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, and they hugged. Jon believed then that happiness was transferable; he felt how happy Cody was, and it lifted him. They had to celebrate.

“Okay, I’m going to the store to get the champagne I forgot,” he said.

“Sounds great,” Zoey said, “but hurry back.”

“Dad,” Cody said, “can I have some champagne?”

Jon almost laughed. “No,” he said, “when you get a commercial airline pilot’s license, then you can have some.” He left, and Jon held on to the image of his smiling son as he got into his car and backed it out of the driveway.

It had been so long since he had felt this good. He thought the last time he’d experienced happiness like this was when his daughter was born and he had picked her up and made a silent promise to her that he would make sure she had a good life, promised he’d protect her. Today might be the turning point. He was optimistic that he and Zoey could get past whatever black cloud had fallen over their marriage. Jon suspected (though he wasn’t fully convinced) Zoey had suffered some kind of post-natal depression—despite her insisting otherwise—after Jane’s arrival into the world. But if she had, it seemed to have resolved itself. He had tried to pinpoint the moment their relationship had stalled. He couldn’t be certain, but if he had to pick a time, it was during a Christmas party at Aquarius’s offices in New York City. Everything had changed after the party and he didn’t know why. He and Zoey had taken a cab to their hotel, and he had been subjected to a stony silence which he’d never been able to explain, and he hadn’t asked Zoey for an explanation. When she was dragging him over hot coals with her silence, he knew better than to ask what was wrong or was she all right. He hadn’t wanted to be on the receiving end of her if-looks-could-kill Death Glare.

As he parked outside Francesco’s Fine Wines, across the street from The Herbert Hotel, he stopped dead, as though his life was a movie and someone had pressed pause. He watched the man exit the SUV and remove his sunglasses. Jon would have recognized him anywhere, even with the baseball cap. He had searched for him online, seen many photographs of him, and here he was, Arthur Dunhill, frozen just like him, his eyes wide and his mouth open.



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