Page 43 of The Wrong Husband

I really had thought that Damian and I were becoming friends after that lunch he'd taken me to—but since then, nothing.

The truth was I was lonely. I missed my loft apartment. I missed how safe I felt there. I missed Moana and our friends from upstairs.

I had been happy to get a studio at Archer Galleries but that was before I saw how the other artists had pushed me into a corner and basically ignored me, treated me like an upstart.

I was used to being Invisible Miss Winters—but now I was visible, and no one liked what they saw. It was starting to hurt my heart. It was too blatant. I survived by being in my own cocoon. Now, I didn't have a safe space.

After the third week of the same you don't exist treatment from Damian, I decided that I'd move back to my loft. I was still paying rent and it was mine. And I would look for another job. I wasn't sure why Marcela hired me and then gave me the cold shoulder. Maybe it was a control thing.

"Emilia, you can't just leave."

"Why not?" I asked Liza as I rolled my suitcase out to the front door.

I had brought very few things. My clothes and shoes. I'd left all the office wear that I'd had to put on when I worked as a buyer for my mother and sister in the tiny closet I had in the loft. I'd have to get rid of them now.

"This is your home."

"This is Damian's home, and he isn't ever here. And it's really not my home." I sniffled because I was feeling bereft, more unwanted than I ever had before. "Where is he today?"

Liza looked sad.

"At his parents' house for lunch…my sister is probably there. I'm not invited." I felt foolish voicing this, but it was how I felt. "I'm lonely, Liza. And sad. I want my own space. He won't even notice I'm not here."

"You call me and let me know when you're home safe, okay?" Liza requested.

"Don't tell him I'm not here."

Liza smiled weakly.

"Let's see how long it takes before he knows I don't live here anymore."

"But you're newlyweds and it hurts me to—"

"We're not married like that, Liza. You know that. How many newlyweds do you know who sleep in separate bedrooms and never spend any time together?"

Liza gave me a hug and helped me sneak out from the service entrance so the concierge wouldn't see me and report back to Damian that I'd been seen leaving the Four Seasons with my suitcase.

Moana was waiting to drive me home in her red Mini—her prized possession that she bought after she finished law school. Moana was half Greek, a quarter Hawaiian, and a quarter Latina—so, very San Franciscan. She was a beautiful woman with a body that she maintained through sheer hard work at the gym. She was my only close friend—and we both took care of each other. When she fell sick, I helped her out. When she used to work in a diner (before the escort stuff) I used to take her shifts so she wouldn't lose her job when she had exams. And she took care of me.

"Wanna bet how long it takes for him to notice I'm not living in his apartment?" I asked sullenly as she drove us home.

"A week," Moana offered.

"Two weeks."

"Deal. If I win, you're going to come to Dawn to Dusk with me."

Dawn to Dusk was a new retro night club fashioned after the movie by the same name. Moana raved about it and since I was, according to her, down in the dumps, I needed to get out and have some fun.

"And if I win?"

"Honey, you don't want to win." She patted my hand.

True! I wanted Damian to notice I was gone right away. It was so unfair. We were married and I was still invisible.

I was usually a content person. I found happiness in small things. I had to after being the unwanted child and growing up in Bianca's shadow. But right now, depression was eating away at my soul.

I had hoped that Damian and I would at least become friends. That we would spend time together and get to know one another.