The Sick Wife Read online

  Yvette flinches. “Hey. Wait a minute. You already married my ex-husband. You stay the hell away from Lukas. Far away.”

  “But he’s so handsome. Why don’t you introduce me? And technically—I married not one, but two of your exes. So I would say that chances are pretty high that Lukas is going to like me.” I give her a playful little wink, and enjoy watching her face turn red.

  “Okay, I probably deserve this, after all the stuff I said to you. But it’s not funny, Milla. It’s really not.”

  “It’s hilarious, Eves. Damn, your new man must work out. A lot more than Gabe. His body looks so fit… Look at those pecs, and those arms, and those abs…”

  “Stop!” she says with horror, holding up both hands. But I see the tiny twitch at the corner of her lips to indicate she is holding back a smile.

  “What if I just send him some amateurish pictures?” I ask her innocently. “Ones where I look like a cow?”

  “No! Milla!”

  “Sorry, sorry. Do you want to grab some food after this? I’m feeling really hungry lately. It’s all these pregnancy hormones, you know. I bet you can’t guess what my favorite meal is these days—what I can’t stop eating and craving at all hours of the night.”

  “What is it?” she asks cautiously.

  “Your leftovers.”

  “Oh my god,” she says, turning and walking away. “I can’t. That’s not funny.”

  “It’s super funny!” I call after her, giggling. I know my sense of humor is abysmal, but I hope I made her giggle a little, and distracted her from this awful trial.

  Gabriel comes to my side then. “What did you say to her? She was smiling. I haven’t seen her smile in days.”

  “Just a little joke between girls,” I tell him, snuggling up against his side. “I’m starving. What’s for lunch?”

  “You’ve already had lunch,” he points out.

  “Well, Sunday and Monday want more,” I tell him, cradling my belly.

  “You know we’re not actually going to call them that, right?”

  I grow quiet, thinking about the story of The Sun, The Moon, and Talia. In the fairytale, Talia names her children Sun and Moon, because their origin is mysterious to her. Lately, since I found out I’m carrying twins, I’ve been thinking about how creepy and coincidental it is that our original choice of names for them were Sunday and Monday. Sure, we were joking, but…

  Another strange coincidence is that the king’s wife in that story finds out about the existence of the mistress and children because he says their names in his sleep. That’s how Gabe told me that Yvette found out about me and him being together. He said my name in his sleep, like the king from the story.

  I’m just lucky that Evie didn’t try to burn me alive or cook my children. She only burned all of Gabe’s belongings. I got off easy. I’m thankful for not being murdered. I’m thankful that Evie and Gabe were able to divorce amicably, and that she forgives us and understands. I’m happy she found her own happiness.

  I’m also thankful that unlike Talia, I was not at a fertile part of my cycle, so that my twins were not fathered by a rapist. But at least I could have taken the morning after pill. The benefits of life in 2021 compared to 1634.

  Also, we have a chance at justice in this courtroom. Mike lost his medical license, and already spent some time behind bars. Hopefully all women will be safe from him going forward. Whether they are living, dead, or asleep.

  “Sweetie?” I say to Gabe, hanging on his arm.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m so glad I’m married to you now, and not a necrophiliac.”

  “I’m also happy about that.” Gabriel responds

  “Thank you for loving me even when I’m conscious and able to move.”

  “I mean… sometimes I’m curious about what you would be like if you couldn’t talk. I must say, I can see the appeal. That guy was onto something.”

  “Gabe!”

  “A little coma here and there isn’t too bad, right?”

  “That is definitely not funny.”

  When he sees my wide eyes, he chuckles. “Relax, sweetie. I love you just the way you are. Even with that annoying, smart mouth of yours.”

  “Good. Well, my smart mouth is hungry. For actual food, not just Evie’s leftovers. I’m thinking tacos.”

  “Then let’s go eat. How else are Sunday and Monday going to become a gold-medalist kayak team?”

  “Or sychronized swimmers,” I suggest.

  “How about they do a speed-skating relay with their future siblings?”

  “Nope. Our babies will love bobsledding best.”

  “I’ll sign them up for lessons now,” he says, kissing my forehead.

  No one makes me smile like he does. No one has ever made me feel so safe and loved.

  I squeeze him tightly. I don’t know how I got so lucky. After everything we’ve suffered, after losing him completely… he’s here with me now. And we’ve got these healthy babies on the way. I thought it would never happen in a million years, I thought that we had lost all chance of being together and being happy. I thought we had lost all chance of bringing these babies into the world—but we dreamed them into life. We kept some tiny grain of hope tucked away in our hearts, even in the worst of times, when it seemed totally and irrevocably impossible.

  We both fought so hard to make this reality.

  I guess fairytales really do come true. Maybe not always the Disney version.

  But getting a happy ending after dealing with a rapist and an ex-wife? It’s somehow sweeter and more secure that a story that’s perfect from the first page. We survived through the worst pages of our book, and then we survived some more. How could any other obstacle ever come between us?

  We’re going to live happily fucking ever after.

  I dare you to try and stop us.

  The End

  Thank you

  Thank you for reading this book!

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  Sophie Shields

  The Fireproof Girl

  The Bulletproof Boy

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  Please enjoy a preview of Loretta’s novel:

  Prologue

  I knew he was going to be a powerful man from the moment I first met him. It wasn’t just because the earth literally trembled when he touched my hand. We were in Southern California, and that was known to happen.

  It was because he smiled.

  Everyone around us was alarmed, gasping and ducking under furniture as picture frames crashed to the floor. Their faces all displayed naked fear and terror. But there he was, in the middle of all that, a calm young boy, gazing at me with the gravity of an old man. His stare was so heavy that I could swear the earth was standing completely still, only under his feet.

  “Do you always smile during natural disasters?” I whispered.

  “Only when I survive them,” he responde
d.

  When I see him in my dreams, to this day, that is the same smile he wears. Confident, unaffected, and completely unshakable. The earth itself had no power over him. I knew then, and I never once forgot over the years to come, that Cole Hunter was something special. He was the kind of boy who could walk right into the fire and the flood and come out unscathed.

  He would come out stronger.

  I was thirteen years old at the time, and had an overly active imagination, but I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut that he was somehow responsible for the earthquakes. I know, it sounds like a load of nonsense. But if you had seen the look in his dark eyes, you would have felt the same way.

  You would have known that boy was capable of anything.

  Chapter One

  Lifting the large mug to my face, I dump half its contents down my throat. As I lower the beverage back to my desk, there is a slight tremor in my fingertips, but that is to be expected when you consume enough caffeine every morning to kill a small child.

  It is difficult to be awake. It is difficult to be here.

  I can always tell how long I will tolerate being in a place by the number of books on the shelves. When I’ve read them all, it’s usually time to move on. Glancing at the bookshelf in my boyfriend’s bedroom, I can’t help wondering why I’ve stayed here long enough to read all of the books multiple times. My job prohibits me from having any access to the Internet whatsoever, so books are all I have.

  For the first time in my life, I feel trapped.

  I’m stuck. Actually stuck. Me—the queen of running away.

  Of course, I could always buy new books, but that has never been my style. Collecting sentimental possessions would anchor me to my surroundings. If I let myself get attached, when I inevitably need to leave, it will only hurt more for every item I leave behind. This is a lesson I had to learn the hard way.

  Turning away from the bookshelf, my eyes fall on the dreary city outside our bedroom window. A thick, heavy fog blankets the capital, obscuring the buildings from view. Although it is gloomy, I am grateful that I don’t have to look at the architecture this morning. I always remember similar buildings being sketched in pencil on sheets of white paper, by a pair of strong hands. I see superior buildings being born in a pair of stormy eyes, and the wheels spinning in a complex mind, determined to bring abstract ideas to reality.

  My brother. I exhale sharply.

  Every time I think of Cole, I feel like I have been punched in the gut.

  When I don’t think of him, it’s a little better. I only have the vaguely empty sensation one might feel after losing a kidney or a lung. The body can function without a few spare chunks of meat, but there is an awkward period of adjustment before the loss becomes normal—before one stops wondering whether they really can go on with their insides mutilated.

  When will this become normal for me? Five years have passed. I thought I would have made peace with his absence by now, but I am always conscious that something has been ripped away. At first, we continued to exchange letters, and that made things bearable—but when Cole stopped replying a few months ago, I started to lose my mind. Does he still care? I’ve written him dozens of letters, and they’ve all gone unanswered.

  This radio silence is killing me.

  “Don’t be selfish, Sophie,” a male voice says from behind me in the room.

  I am startled from my thoughts as I turn around to see the muscular, half-naked man tangled up in the bed sheets. Zack reaches up to rub his eyes before opening them, and brushes some of his disheveled, sandy-brown hair away from his face so that he can look at me. He smiles. Lifting himself up on his elbow, he gestures to the alarm clock on our nightstand.

  “Big day today,” he reminds me. “I’m gonna need a cup of that good stuff, too.”

  If it were any other man on earth, I would toss my ceramic mug at his head for implying that I should make him coffee. But Zack recently lost a leg in Afghanistan, and some days he can’t even get out of bed due to pain—and not just the physical kind. I know that the simple act of making him coffee makes his day a little easier to face.

  “I think we’re out of grounds,” I say guiltily as I stare at the few drops remaining in my mug.

  “Of course we are, you coffee-slut,” he says teasingly. “I picked up a new can. It’s above the fridge.”

  My shoulders relax with some relief. “You’re a saint. I could really use another cup.” As I head to the kitchen, I try to convince myself that this is why I stick around. Zack isn’t that bad. His skills as an ex-sniper might be useless in this boring civilian life, but at least he has the good sense to remember to pick up coffee. Standing on my tip-toes, I open the cupboard and retrieve the canister. I can already smell the delicious, freshly ground beans as I peel back the lid, but I am startled by a gleam of light that causes me to nearly drop the can on the floor.

  In the center of the coffee can is an opened velvet box, revealing a diamond engagement ring. My eyes grow narrowed in confusion as I examine the hunk of clear rock for a long moment.

  “It’s all I could afford,” Zack says as he stands in the doorway behind me. “I hope you like it.”

  Turning back to look at him over my shoulder, I try to force out some words. “This is…?”

  He smiles as he limps forward to place his hands around my waist. “Yeah.” His hands are large. They always startle me with their largeness when they encounter my body. “I thought you were going to run out of coffee days ago and find it sooner, but you’ve been living at Starbucks. So, whaddaya say, Soph? Be my wife?”

  “Zack—”

  “Do you want me to drop down to one knee? It’s a little difficult with the prosthetic, but I will.”

  He grasps ahold of the kitchen counter and begins to lower himself to one knee with a grunt, but I turn around and grab his arm to keep him standing.

  “Hey,” I say softly. “Let’s just sit for a minute, okay?” I place the coffee canister down so I can lead Zack over to his little IKEA breakfast table. As I sink into my chair, I place my head in my hands and slowly knead my temples. This is why I should have left months ago. I knew that things were getting too serious.

  There is so much that Zachary doesn’t know about me. He doesn’t know what I really do for a living. He doesn’t know half the hell I’ve been through. He doesn’t know that the reason he has trouble finding work is because my employers want me to have someone who can protect me at home, at all times. He doesn’t know that I’m already married.

  Although, I suppose, that was a long time ago—under a different identity.

  It’s funny how nostalgic I can get about a piece of paper. It was just a legal contract for the most part, done out of necessity. We had no hope of having a real marriage.

  But deep down, it was always real to me. Too real.

  “Sophie, talk to me,” Zack is saying with anxiety in his voice. “I need an answer.”

  I shake my head slowly, unsure of how to respond. Nausea makes my stomach turn at the thought of another wedding ceremony. Who would I even invite? I have no friends. I have no family. I have no brother.

  Zack reaches across the table to take my hand in his. “I know that things aren’t great right now. You’re upset about Cole, aren’t you? You haven’t heard from him?”

  My eyes widen and I pull my hand away abruptly. Am I that transparent? I guess I’m always upset about Cole, lately. Standing up, I move back to the kitchen. “Do you still want that coffee?” I ask him briskly.

  “No. I never wanted any. I just wanted you to find the engagement ring,” Zack explains, with hurt in his voice.

  I busy myself with going through the motions of making coffee anyway, and ignore the diamond ring as I scoop grounds from the perimeter of the can.

  “Sophie, will you stop for a minute!” Zack exclaims. “We need to talk about this. There’s something I need to tell you, about your brother…”

  If thinking about Cole is difficult, talking about him is
worse.

  It would be easier if I were just missing an internal organ; I wouldn’t mind a little shortness of breath while taking the stairs. It would be easier if I were just an amputee, like Zack, always trying to stand on my phantom limb and crashing to the floor. It would be simple. Anything would be better than being so emotionally crippled and numb that I need to stay constantly caffeinated or intoxicated to get through the day. I haven’t been happy in five years, but these last few months have been especially brutal.

  “I spoke to him,” Zack says finally. “I asked his permission.”

  “What?” I snap, turning around in horror.

  “I called your brother a few days ago and asked for your hand in marriage. I know he’s not your real brother, but since you don’t have a father, or any other family for me to ask…”

  “You asked Cole?” I say hoarsely. “You called Cole?”

  “Yes. He gave me his blessing. He said he would be there at our wedding.”

  I can’t help it. A burst of crazy laughter escapes my chest. “You called him?” I murmur, my voice incredulous. “Seriously?!” For a moment, I fear for Zack’s safety. Ex-military, rifle specialist and all, he is missing a leg, and Cole is a force to be reckoned with. At the memory of the stormy anger in my brother’s dark eyes, my heart begins to pound faster and my jaw clenches. I haven’t heard his voice in so long, and I am jealous that Zack is permitted to use a cell phone so casually. “Did you ask him why he stopped writing to me?”