The Last Wife: An absolutely gripping and emotional page-turner with a brilliant twist

by Nicola Marsh

  I can’t be divorced. Considering May’s new financial constraints she’ll ensure I get next to nothing in alimony; she has friends in high places and will find the best attorney to screw me over. Besides, divorce won’t suit me. My image is everything. The perfect life, envied by many. It’s the only way I can deal with my inherent emptiness, pretending I have everything when in fact I’m lonely, craving affection like I have my entire life. Nobody sees the real Ashlin. They see a rich bitch, shallow and narcissistic, because that’s what I want them to see. And it irks that no one, not even my husband, has ever taken the time to delve beneath the surface and see the real me.

  “Hey, beautiful, ready for round two?” Aaron caresses me from shoulder to hip, a move I usually find arousing. He’s skilled, I’ll give him that. He’s an expert with his hands and his tongue, as I’ve discovered over our six-week affair. Good-looking men are usually selfish but Aaron always makes sure I orgasm first. It’s one of the few things I’ll miss.

  I brush his hand away. “I can’t. I have to go pick up the kids.”

  “They can wait.” He rolls toward me and I avoid staring at how ready he is. Always up for it.

  “Actually, they can’t.” I slide out of bed, clutching the top sheet to hide my nakedness. I usually strut around, confident in my body. I should be, I pay enough for it. But I can’t shake this odd vulnerability making me want to bolt and leave this mess behind.

  “Hey, what’s up with you?” He frowns, not at all uncomfortable lying sprawled on the bed, exposed. “You’re usually insatiable.”

  I can’t dump him naked so I quickly dress, craving a shower to wash my shame away but desperate to escape more. My hands shake as I zip up my jacket, fear coursing through me.

  I may have played this all wrong. What if this time I’ve pushed Justin too hard and he walks away for real?

  I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the door. “This has been fun, Aaron, but we’re done.”

  He sits upright, a frown marring his exceptional looks. “What?”

  “You heard me.” I need to make this short, sharp and clean. “Don’t act so outraged. You’re banging anything that walks these days so I’m sure you won’t miss me.”

  A smug smirk curls his lips. “Babe, come on, we’re great together. You know you want me.”

  The cockiness I initially found endearing is now abrasive. “We’re done. Don’t contact me again.”

  I slip out the door before he sees the tears burning my eyes. Not for him, never for him. The sadness clogging my throat is for my stupidity and how I’ve risked everything for nothing.

  I reach my car when the text comes through.

  HEY ASHLIN,

  CATCH UP FOR COFFEE?

  SHAMIRA & I MEETING @ 3 @ CERES.

  IF FREE, JOIN US.

  RIA

  I’m flabbergasted. It’s been a long time since Ria reached out to me. She used to invite me to impromptu catch-ups all the time but I’m guessing my constant excuses and shitty behavior put paid to that.

  It’s not like I don’t appreciate the effort, I do, but we’re nothing alike and the more time I spend in her company the more inadequate I feel. She’s smart and independent and manages to make motherhood look easy while juggling a full-time job as a single parent. She’s never been nasty but I see the way she looks at me, how she assesses my designer fashion and accessories with an all-encompassing stare that never fails to leave me feeling lacking somehow.

  So I hide my insecurities.

  It’s stupid, as I don’t have many friends. And both Ria and Shamira are inherently nice women. But I’m scared of letting them get too close because women have a tendency to talk and I don’t want to bond in case I inadvertently blurt out how unhappy I am.

  They’re Parkers and ultimately their loyalty lies with May. She controls everything and I’d hate to think of the matriarch learning of my weakness. She’s the kind of woman to use it against Justin in some capacity. She’s already on some weird kind of power trip after that announcement at her birthday party about cutting us all off financially so I don’t want to give her any more ammunition.

  My cell buzzes again because I haven’t tapped the message to remove it from the home screen. I stare at it, indecision warring with common sense. I’m feeling lousy after my stupid, petty revenge session with Aaron and I should head home. But a tiny part of me yearns to be included and with Ria reaching out after how badly I’ve treated her, I feel obliged to accept her invitation.

  I fire back a short reply and get into my car before I change my mind. I duck home for a quick shower and it only takes ten minutes to reach Ceres, an understated upscale café not far from my house. Feeling ridiculously nervous, I enter the small café, immediately comforted by the tantalizing aromas of imported coffee beans, vanilla and cinnamon. They do great lattes and muffins here and I’m surprisingly hungry as I wend my way through the tables toward the back, where I spy Ria.

  She’s staring at her cell, a frown creasing her brow as she scrolls through something with her finger. Her forehead wrinkling annoys me because she’s obviously so confident in her own skin she doesn’t use Botox.

  When I reach the table I clear my throat and she glances up, her frown clearing, a tentative smile curving her lips.

  “Hey, Ashlin, glad you could make it.”

  “Thanks for inviting me.” I sound stilted but if she picks up on my nerves she doesn’t show it. “Have you ordered yet?”

  “No, I was waiting for you and Shamira, but she just texted saying she can’t make it so we should go ahead.”

  My momentary relief at not having to make small talk with the hippy vanishes as I realize it’s now just Ria and me, making conversation all the harder.

  “What are you having?”

  She looks ready to protest but I’m still standing so it makes sense I order at the counter for us.

  When she doesn’t answer, I say, “Their lattes are great and the blueberry muffins are delicious, so I’ve been told.”

  “That sounds good, thanks.”

  This time her smile is more genuine and I relax a little. “Be back in a sec.”

  I feel her stare boring into my back as I make my way to the counter and after I place our order, pay and grab our table number, I quickly glance at my watch, wondering how long I can leave the kids in May’s care without her questioning me as a mother any more than she already does, and what would be the minimal time spent here before I can beg off our coffee date and escape.

  Ria must be thinking the same thing because as I return to the table she’s staring at her watch and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Planning a quick getaway, huh?”

  “The truth is I only have an hour so I can’t stay long.”

  “Let me ask you this.” I sit and place my handbag on the empty seat beside me. “If it was Shamira here instead of me, would you still be wanting to leave so soon?”

  To her credit, she doesn’t lie. “Maybe.”

  This time we both laugh and it feels good. We’ll never be close but I’m glad I made the effort to come today, especially after the fight with Justin last night and me foolishly running to Aaron this morning.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I blink, hoping she can’t read half of what I’m feeling on my face. “Why do you ask?”

  She hesitates. “Because you look… tired.”

  “Rough night.”

  I’m saved from elaborating by the fastest barista on the planet, with a waitress bringing our lattes and muffins to the table in record time.

  Ria taps a sugar sachet against her fingertips several times before tearing off the top and tipping granules into her latte. That annoys me too, the fact she has sugar when I can’t look at the stuff without worrying about doing an extra hour’s cardio at the gym. The muffin is an anomaly for me but I need the pick-me-up.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  She nods as she stirs her coffee. “Sure.”

  �
�It’s been a while since you’ve invited me to anything so why today?”

  She wriggles in discomfort before lifting her head to look me in the eye. “Because I want to ask if you have any enemies.”

  “Enemies?” I parrot, sounding like an idiot. “What do you mean?”

  “Have you received any emails, messages, that kind of thing, threatening you?”

  “No…” I trail off, remembering her comeback at May’s party after I’d taunted her about her job. I assumed Shamira had voiced her suspicions to Ria too and that’s why she’d fired back at me. But is there someone else who knows about my affairs?

  “What’s going on?”

  The hesitation is there again, but she shakes her head. “Nothing. I just wonder if the Parkers are a target sometimes.”

  “Tall poppy syndrome, you mean?”

  “Something like that.” She shrugs and sips at her latte. “Being prominent isn’t always a good thing.”

  “Tell me about it,” I mutter, knowing firsthand the scrutiny that comes with being part of a recognizable family. For me, living under a microscope started well before I married into the Parkers, with being a Garner earning just as much analysis. When I wasn’t striving to live up to my parents’ high expectations I’d be pretending to ignore the envious stares of the girls at school. Being part of a distinguished family wasn’t all it was cracked up to be and I’d always felt alone even when surrounded by people because I never knew who I could trust. Did friends truly like me or were they impressed by my family’s name, prestige and wealth?

  Now, with Ria’s cryptic comments about being targeted, I wonder what’s going on. Starting up with Aaron, Justin’s biggest competitor, had been all about getting back at him for ignoring me; a childish, idiotic action of a woman who should know better. Now that I’ve ended it, I hope I haven’t potentially caused more problems, though Aaron is too self-centered to strike me as the jealous type. He will have no shortage of women filling his bed.

  But Ria is asking me about threats for a reason and it has me worried.

  “Has someone threatened you?”

  “No.” She eyeballs me with a clear gaze. “But I think we all need to be more careful.”

  Her warning strikes me as odd but before I can ask more, her cell rings. She glances at the screen.

  “It’s Shelley’s dance instructor, I have to get this.”

  I nod, devour my muffin and quickly finish my coffee as she answers the call. I don’t deliberately eavesdrop but I can’t help but glean from her responses that Shelley’s up for some kind of award and they want Ria to be there.

  When she stabs at the disconnect button, the corners of her mouth curve upward in a soft smile and in that moment I realize how pretty she is.

  I can see what Justin sees in her.

  She’s the opposite of me.

  Ria is beautiful in a natural way. Her make-up is understated, her sorrel brown hair untouched by dye. She’s the antithesis of my tattooed eyebrows, eyeliner, lip-liner and artfully streaked blonde. She’s also way too nice, so is it any wonder my husband is drawn to her when I’ve done my best to push him away for the last twelve months or so?

  Ridiculously, tears well in my eyes and I blink them away. My throat feels tight and my chest aches. I’ve done this to myself, to my marriage. Me. I’ve allowed my insecurities to fuel my self-sabotaging tendencies and ruin everything.

  “Hey.” She lays a hand on my forearm. “I know we’ve never been close but if you ever want to talk, offload, whatever, I’m around, okay?”

  “Thanks.” I manage a weak smile, wishing I’d done a lot of things differently, like allowing this woman into my life a little.

  Being estranged from my only sibling means I should’ve made a bigger effort to get to know my sisters-in-law. But I like being the noticeable Parker woman, demanding all the attention, and it looks like I expected the same in my marriage and it hasn’t done me any favors.

  She removes her hand from my arm. “Sorry for bailing on you but I have to go.”

  “That’s fine, I have to go too.”

  We stand simultaneously and pause, awkward, unsure whether to hug or air-kiss. Impulsively, I lean forward and wrap my arms around her in the briefest of hugs.

  “Thanks again for inviting me.”

  “My pleasure,” she says, staring at me in wonder as we step back, like she can’t quite believe I’m being this nice. “Take care, okay?”

  “You too.”

  I let her walk ahead of me before gathering my handbag to follow, because for the second time in as many minutes I feel the inexplicable urge to bawl.

  18

  Shamira

  I’ve managed to avoid Trent the whole day. First by making a phone call to a garrulous supplier on the way back from the market ensuring I avoided further questioning, and later by helping out in the shop even though I hire extra staff on a Sunday. He’s been holed up in the den as usual, listening to music, chatting online with fellow guitar aficionados. I’m glad of the reprieve.

  It had been nice having Ria and Shelley drop in; they provided a temporary distraction from the thoughts whirring through my head like one of the spinning color wheels I stock. I’d been glad to accept Ria’s invitation for coffee at Ceres after she dropped Shelley at dance class but had later reneged when she’d mentioned inviting Ashlin too.

  I know Ria. She’s a peacemaker and after what I’d told her, she couldn’t help herself. She envisaged Ashlin and me hashing out our problems and moving forward for the sake of the family. But I can’t, not without coming to grips with what I’m going to tell Trent.

  In typical laid-back Trent fashion he hasn’t hounded me. But I know once I enter our apartment he’ll ask me about what happened at the market this morning. Pity Ria didn’t accept my invitation to come back for dinner. I could’ve done with the buffer.

  I like Ria. She’s genuine in a family full of fakes. I’m the biggest phony. Maybe she’s right. I should tell Trent the truth, all of it. But the thought of his reaction leaves me cold. He’s relaxed and loving but I can’t bear the thought of seeing his acceptance turn to disgust.

  That’s what scares me the most. Not the potential loss of luxury: this apartment, my shop, the safety of knowing where my next dollar is coming from. But the certain derision I’ll face, the same pitying stares I’d had to put up with for many years, making me feel worthless and ugly… that, I can’t tolerate.

  I still can’t get over the bizarre run-in with the man from my past the day after Ashlin threatened me with exposure. I’d discounted it as a coincidence, but if her marriage is over, as Ria said, I wouldn’t put it past her to ruin mine for the hell of it.

  I’m apprehensive that he’ll find me again and this time he’ll tell Trent everything. But I used a false name back then so the odds of him tracing me here are minimal. Unless Ashlin is behind the whole thing and tells him… crap, I can’t keep going around in circles like this, obsessing about something I have no control over. I need to focus on more important things, like ensuring my husband doesn’t find out the rest.

  I take several deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling with slow precision to steady my nerves, before opening the front door. I spy him immediately, sitting in front of the TV, idly flicking channels. Not a good sign. Trent rarely watches television. Even when he’s bored he’ll rather strum his guitar or listen to music than watch TV.

  “Hey,” I say, slipping off my sandals inside the door and padding toward the kitchen. “You hungry?”

  “Not really.”

  He finally lifts his head to glance my way and I see it: the wariness in his eyes. Like he knows I’m hiding something.

  “I’ll make an omelet.”

  Usually he’ll help me beat the eggs or chop the onion. He doesn’t move from his slouch on the sofa.

  “Ria and Shelley stopped by earlier. I asked them to come back later to eat with us but Ria wanted to get Shelley home after dance class to get ready for school tomorrow.”


  “She’s a good kid.” His expression softens like it always does at anything child-related. “How’s Ria?”

  “Good.”

  Though I’d glimpsed something, a touch of anxiety that made her appear fragile. I know the feeling. But I have my own problems to deal with so I hadn’t delved. I feel bad because we’re friends and I should’ve dug a little deeper. It’s been too long since our last girls’ night out and I should rectify that. Ria is smart and funny and laid-back; nothing like the rest of the Parker family.

  His eyes narrow slightly and I know what’s coming before he opens his mouth. “So tell me about that ex at the market this morning.”

  Even though I expect it, his question winds me. My lungs seize and I’m breathless, willing the spots dancing before my eyes to disappear. I put down the whisk before it clatters to the floor from my nerveless fingers. I’ve mentally rehearsed a spiel but delivering it is a different matter.

  Feigning nonchalance, I force myself to eyeball him. “Not much to tell. I lived near that market for a while, he was a local, we went out a couple of times and he became obsessed. A bit of a stalker, really. So I took out an intervention order and that was the end of it.”

  Though the falsities tumble from my tongue like the truth, the enormity of lying to my husband lodges like a weight on my chest, heavy and stifling, and I surreptitiously drag in deeper calming breaths.

  Doubt flickers in his eyes. “So it’s just a coincidence he turned up at the market this morning?”

  “I hope so, because if he deliberately tracked me down I’ll have to go to the police.” I’m digging myself in deeper with every lie and I’m drowning, floundering, out of control, willing my husband to let the subject drop so we can get back to being the great couple we are.

  He waits a few moments, mulling my response, a groove slashing his brows. “Let’s leave it for now but if you see him hanging around, let me know.”

  “Absolutely.” I breathe a sigh of relief but it’s short-lived when he continues to stare at me with an intensity that unnerves.