Page 52 of HER: A Psychological Thriller

“No, Sadie,” she hisses. “You aren’t friends. He’s your employee.”

“Well, technically he’s my husband’s employee.”

“Exactly—and don’t you think he might be feeding information back to his boss?”

“I don’t think—”

“That’s right, Sadie. You don’t think. That’s why you have me.”

I swallow hard. I force more coffee down to avoid saying the wrong thing again.

“Well, on the bright side,” she exclaims. “It’s not like Ethan’s filed for divorce yet. So he obviously doesn’t know.”

This makes me smile. Tightly. Smugly.

Her brow rises, a look of warning is offered. “Just be careful.”

I decide not to tell her about the divorce. If she still has hope—better to let her have it. I can’t bring myself to extinguish that.

IF ANN HAD her suspicions about why Ethan was having work done on the house before, she never said anything. I’d planned to tell her the truth. I just needed time to let it settle within myself. To say something out loud has a way of making it real. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to make the end of us real.

Had Ethan not shifted all of the money that was left in our joint account, I wouldn’t have. I fired a warning shot off the bow with the vet bill. He decided to go to war. He was angry—angry about the money—angry about me stabbing him. Angry about me changing the locks. Angry about a lot of things. Problem was, he couldn’t show up to show me just how angry, on account of the cat. Allergies are killer that way.

If he wanted to act out his fantasies, he’d have to level up.

More than anything, I realized, he was angry that he’d forgotten how to win at his own game. I was calling him to be more. Only he’d missed all the signs, and my more competitive side reveled in that.

TWO DAYS after she returned home, Ann texted, and asked me to come down and help her with the hotline.

To be honest, I wanted to say no. I could just as easily field calls from the comfort of my own home. But the messy truth is, I missed her.

I’m afraid that we are living on borrowed time, the two of us so, how could I not agree to her request for help?

Let yourself in, she texted. I’ll be in my office.

I did as she asked, and I did find that she was in her office. But then, so was my handyman. Neither one of them were dressed, and they were doing what Ann said was trouble.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

SADIE

“I know you’re angry at me,” Ann says when she phones later that evening. “But it’s not like I meant for it to happen.”

“What about Paul?” I ask, a question that has been weighing on my mind, really, more than any other. “I thought the two of you were happy…”

“Of course we’re happy.”

“Then why would you—”

“I did this for you, Sadie.”

“For me?”

“Yes, for you. You get yourself tangled up in these situations, and sometimes it’s like I just can’t get through to you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Look,” she interrupts. Her voice is cold, but the bite is almost gone. “You think you know things, but there are a lot of things you can’t know.”