My best friend, Claire, sat across from me at her kitchen table, watching the screen of my phone light up for the thirty-seventh time.
My husband’s name appeared again.
ADRIAN CALLING.
She reached across the table and turned the phone facedown.
“Don’t answer it yet.”
I was still wearing my wedding dress.
The hem was damp from the rain, my carefully arranged hair had begun to fall around my shoulders, and the diamond ring on my finger suddenly felt unbearably heavy.
“What if his father is confused?” I whispered. “What if there’s been some terrible misunderstanding?”
Claire looked at the thousand dollars lying between us.
“Then he can explain it in the morning.”
I stared at the money.
Ten crisp hundred-dollar bills.
A wedding gift from a man who had looked me directly in the eyes and told me to run if I wanted to stay alive.
