False Step

by Victoria Helen Stone

  “Worth a shot.”

  After Sydney hugged her dad and Veronica locked eyes with Micah for another secret smile, she and Sydney walked out to sit on the front step and wait for Grandpa.

  Her daughter chattered about the last time she’d spent the night at his place and how he’d taken her to the Cheesecake Factory at the mall and then shopping afterward. Above Sydney’s delighted voice, Veronica could hear the deep murmur of male conversation on the other side of the door. It wasn’t the normal give-and-take of them bullshitting each other. It was low and solemn.

  Her ears burned to think of Micah defending her and admonishing Johnny. Then her cheeks went warm. Then her whole face flushed hot, a strange combination of self-consciousness and gratitude and maybe a little shame. She strained her ears, hoping to pick up a word or two, but nothing jumped out from the dark stream of murmured voices.

  At 6:05 her dad pulled up, and Veronica walked Sydney to his car and opened a rear door. “She still needs to sit in the back, Dad.”

  Sydney groaned at her mom’s insistence that she stay out of the front seat until she reached the recommended height, but she climbed in anyway.

  “Please watch her carefully in the water, okay?”

  “I will. We’ll have a great time, won’t we, pumpkin?”

  “And next time call me instead of Johnny,” she added.

  Her dad rolled his eyes. “Johnny called me.”

  “Oh.” She frowned, but the reason was damn obvious. He didn’t want Sydney overhearing any talk of physical abuse. “Bedtime is nine,” Veronica said.

  “Yep. No problem.”

  She kissed Sydney goodbye and shut the door carefully, relieved the interaction was over. She was still waving at the retreating car when Micah emerged from the house.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked.

  “Just to pick up dinner.”

  She stood there with her arms crossed and imagined walking back inside alone. “I’ll come with you.”

  He glanced over his shoulder toward the front door. “Think that’s a good idea?”

  “I think I don’t give a damn anymore.”

  He flashed a wide smile. “All right, sexy. Let’s go.”

  She smiled and hopped into his car, relieved for this brief moment of escape.

  Even as he pulled away from the curb, he threw little glances toward her. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

  “I’ve never been in a car with you.”

  “What?” He laughed. “Is that true?”

  “Yes. We’ve never been on a date, you know. It’s all been secret, steamy hookups in the dark.”

  “Steamy, huh?”

  She felt her smile tip into something wistful as she reached over to touch his thigh.

  “Well, I guess you’re right. But I did take you up to the rooftop deck a few months ago. Remember? That was kind of a date, wasn’t it?”

  “Of course I remember.” She sighed, thinking of that unseasonably warm night in June. He’d held a finger to her lips to shush her, and then he’d pulled her right back to the elevator she’d just exited. Instead of going down, they’d risen all the way to the top of the building.

  They’d emerged onto a beautiful rooftop deck, the limestone tiles scattered with wooden lounge chairs and small potted trees. A few gas grills awaited visitors, but they were alone. “Look at that view,” she’d exclaimed, her hand tucked deliciously into his. The sun had been setting behind clouds that tipped the mountains of the Front Range, the rays blazing orange and pink on the horizon.

  “It’s even better over here,” he’d purred, tugging her toward a low stone wall.

  When they reached it, she balked. It wasn’t the edge of the building, but it was an unfinished portion of the roof, about a foot lower than where she stood.

  “It’s perfectly safe,” he assured her, ignoring her yelp of terror when he hopped over the wall and landed on the pebbly surface below. “I hang out here all the time.”

  She blinked away some of her fright and finally saw the patio cushions piled at his feet. Then she saw the bottle of wine and the two glasses.

  He winked. “Come on in. The water’s fine.”

  Unwilling to play the coward in front of Micah, she stepped carefully up onto the ledge, took his hand, and let herself slide down into his arms. Unwilling or not, she let out a little scream, but he smothered it with a kiss.

  “Now,” he murmured, “look at this.”

  He turned her, and they were closer to the edge of the roof now, with no other buildings between them and the mountains, and she sighed with wonder at the sight.

  “Micah. It’s so beautiful.”

  “I knew you’d like it.”

  He poured them wine and made a little propped bed of the cushions. They’d lain there, hidden from the world, and laughed and sipped wine until they were tipsy. Then they’d made love with nothing but sky and clouds above them as a lightning storm began dozens of miles away beyond Longs Peak.

  It had felt like a dream. A fantasy. But it had been real and, in the days after, she’d teared up every time she’d thought of it. Of lying there exposed, his body above hers, inside hers. And he’d watched her face so closely, mapping out each moment of pleasure.

  Afterward, watching the bright electric flashes against a darkening sky, Micah had worked a stone loose from the wall behind them and withdrawn a pipe and a small bag of weed. She’d demurred but stretched out naked on the cushions, her legs over his thighs, and watched his face soften as he smoked.

  “You’re so gorgeous,” she purred to him, delighting in his lazy smile of delight at her words.

  “Not half as gorgeous as you are.”

  “You’re just saying that because I’m naked.” A joke that invited his attention, and he’d given it, stroking his hand up her thigh to her sex to cup her there.

  She wanted that again. She wanted it forever.

  Watching him as he drove, she squeezed his thigh. “You talked to Johnny?” she finally asked.

  “Yes.”

  “He admitted it?”

  “Yes. And I let him know if it ever happened again, I’d personally beat his ass with a pool cue.”

  “Good.”

  “He is sorry, though. He seemed . . . I don’t know. Almost distraught. Something is going on with him. I’ll dig a little deeper.”

  Yes, something was definitely going on with him. This was her chance. She could just blurt it out. Ask for Micah’s help and support.

  But she wanted that night on the roof again someday, even if it was years from now. She wanted a real date. Wanted to get dressed up and go out and spend a romantic evening on the town before they went back to his bed. And then she wanted to sleep there. The whole night. Wanted to slide into dreams as he whispered I love you in her ear.

  Or else she really, really wanted an escape fantasy from her real life.

  Whichever it was, the truth would send him running. She’d run from it herself if she could. And even if she couldn’t be with him, she still needed him as a friend. So she shook her head and shrugged. “Who knows. He’s been really busy with work. And that girlfriend, I guess.”

  “Yeah. He’s definitely stressed about something.”

  They pulled up to the restaurant, and Veronica waited in the car while he ran in to pay for the food. She breathed in the scent of his soap warmed by the leather of the seats. The car was neat, all the surfaces shiny and dust-free. She poked at a compartment over her head and it opened to reveal a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses.

  With a glance at the restaurant door, she opened the glove compartment as well. She reached for a pair of black driving gloves and the leather yielded to her touch with hardly any pressure. She wondered how much they’d cost. Wondered if they’d been a gift and from whom.

  When the restaurant door swung open, she withdrew her hands with a squeak and slammed the compartment closed.

  She’d poked around in his apartment once while he was sleeping.
Everything had been clean and neat and in its place. The opposite of her own home.

  Maybe she wasn’t in love with Micah. Maybe she was only interested in his high-end lifestyle.

  He caught her grinning when he slid back into the driver’s seat. “What?” he asked as he handed her the big white bag of food.

  “Nothing. You’re just cute.”

  He gave her a quick kiss like they were a real couple. She resisted asking him to drive around town for a while so they could hold hands and listen to music. But just barely.

  Her smile faded as they drove the familiar streets back to her house. “I can’t leave yet,” she finally said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t leave Johnny yet. But I will one day.”

  Micah shook his head and blew out a long breath. “I told you not to confront him.”

  The words stabbed her in her softest place. The little spot where she nurtured her secret hopes. The place she held her love for him. She heard a growl leave her throat. “You . . . Are you trying to talk me into staying with him? Long-term? After what he did?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No. No, you didn’t say that. But you just reminded me I shouldn’t rock the boat. You want things to stay the same, even if I have to stay with a man who hit me. You want me once a week. Maybe twice if you sneak into my bathroom when my husband is drunk and distracted. That’s enough for you, right? Anything else would be too much?” She ran her hands over her face with a disgusted sigh.

  “Come on, V. Calm down. I don’t want this all to end badly for you guys. You have your daughter to think of. That’s all I’m concerned about.”

  “I don’t need to be reminded about my daughter, thanks.”

  “I didn’t mean you should stay with him forever. I just meant let’s handle this carefully. He’s not going to do it again. He’s genuinely ashamed.”

  Her lips parted, but what else could she say? She’d just admitted she couldn’t leave Johnny now anyway. But she’d wanted Micah to fight, damn it. To fight for her or them or something.

  Veronica stared out the windshield as the houses slid past. She watched the world shift as Micah turned onto her street. Watched her house grow slowly larger and then her husband stand up from the porch step she’d been sitting on herself not twenty minutes before.

  Micah was delivering her back to Johnny. He’d eat dinner with them, and have a few drinks with his good buddy, and at the end of the evening he’d say goodbye and leave her there.

  “You said you loved me,” she whispered, lips numb and tongue dry as bone.

  “I do love you, V. I just want everyone to be happy. I don’t want to destroy anyone’s life.” Most of all mine. He didn’t say it, but she heard it clear as day.

  And she saw it then. The truth. That she was clinging to Micah just as she’d clung to her father—just as she had to Johnny. One more hard-to-hold man whose attention she needed like oxygen. She was the same desperate little girl she’d always been. Only the name of the man had changed.

  Micah pulled next to the curb and she scrambled out of the car to get away from him. In a parody of choosing her husband, she made a beeline for Johnny, rushing toward the door at his back.

  “Hey, babe. You went with Micah?”

  “Yes, Johnny. I went with Micah.” She held up the paper bag as evidence as she walked past him and into the house.

  After dropping the bag on the counter, she dug out the pork lo mein and the entire bag of crab Rangoon; then she added a fork and a beer to her haul and headed for the bedroom. She didn’t want to pretend with either of them anymore. She didn’t even want to look at them.

  “I should’ve grabbed another beer,” she muttered as she kicked the door shut behind her and set the food carefully on the mattress.

  “Babe?” Johnny called faintly from the kitchen.

  “I’m watching something on Netflix!” she yelled back.

  That seemed to satisfy him. She heard their voices again, woven together, both conspiring to enjoy their evening without her. She popped open the beer, turned on the small TV atop the dresser, and called up the trashiest reality show she could find. She ate every last crab Rangoon before they could come looking for them. She knew they were Micah’s favorite, and that made them fantastically, maniacally delicious as she washed them down with Johnny’s beer.

  She’d done everything wrong. She’d tried to improve her unhappy life with one man by turning to another. So stupid. She needed to work on herself and take control of her own crap. Stop chasing men, begging for their attention. She was so far from control now that it felt almost impossible to grab it again. She had to do better.

  The show blared on the TV, but Veronica’s mind easily tuned it out, refusing to be distracted from her worries. She searched for news stories on her phone about the kidnapping but found no updates.

  No news was good news. Or no news meant the police were quietly surrounding the house with long guns loaded, ready to break down the door and drag them to jail. She couldn’t know. She could never know. It might be today. It might be next year. It might be ten years from now when someone finally cracked.

  Thank God she’d put the money back. They couldn’t convict her of anything.

  Or maybe they could.

  She’d eaten only a few bites of lo mein when her stomach turned and she had to set down the container. Wives couldn’t be compelled to testify against their spouses, but were they required to turn them in for crimes?

  Aware that she was likely leaving an easily traceable trail, she searched criminal liability spouse on her phone. Most of the results that popped up were explanations of spousal abuse. She snorted a humorless laugh and tried again.

  Can a spouse be an accomplice? God, she was really painting a picture for the police here. She typed in I didn’t do anything criminal but my stupid husband did, just for a laugh. Her phone suddenly froze and then powered down.

  She tossed it aside with a curse and reached for the charger at the side of her bed. Her fingers found only air. The cord was still in her purse and her purse was in the living room, and she refused to set foot in there. She’d been so happy with Micah for a few sweet minutes and then he’d ruined it all.

  “Fuck.” She checked Johnny’s side of the bed, but of course he hadn’t conveniently left a cord. Why make things easier for her?

  She snatched up her half-empty beer and quietly opened the door. The men were still talking, their voices more normal and relaxed, now that the uncomfortable question of Veronica had been brushed aside. They were back to being friends, the kidnapping wife slapper and the cuckolding buddy. Even now, when Micah’s laugh echoed down the hallway, Veronica’s stupid heart lurched.

  She told herself none of it mattered. Her feelings were hurt. She ached deep down inside. But he’d never promised her anything. Hell, all she’d even bothered asking for was a little niceness, and how pitiful was that? He’d signed up for an affair, and he’d never hinted at spinning something more from those threads.

  But he loves you, a pitiful voice whispered inside her.

  Sure. Sure, he did. He also loved crab Rangoon, and maybe she was just another consumable item.

  “Bastard,” she whispered before tiptoeing to Sydney’s room and closing the door.

  Once she’d settled at Sydney’s desk, she wiggled the mouse to wake the computer. The CPU whirred and the sound of the fan reminded her it was past time to vacuum the dust out of it. The thing seemed overheated as soon it was touched.

  She swigged her beer and waited impatiently for the screen to wake up. The fan roared with effort. She took another sip. Nothing happened. She wiggled the mouse again, then tapped a key on the keyboard. “Come on.”

  When there was still no response from the monitor, she set down her bottle with a groan and dipped her head to find the power button. A nose full of dust later, she pressed the monitor’s hidden On button. Still nothing. She tried again. No response. No error. Not even a lig
ht.

  With no other choice but to crawl under the tiny desk, she shoved the chair back and got on her hands and knees to trace the cord down to the power strip. It lay useless and unplugged on the floor.

  “Victory,” she murmured, plugging it back in. When she finally got her head above the desk, the monitor was glowing white, most of the screen a blank expanse of unwritten document. But there was one lone word. Johnny.

  Frowning now, she stroked the wheel on the mouse and shifted the document down. The largely blank page disappeared and revealed that the first page was a letter addressed “To The World.” And it started with “I’m sorry.”

  Johnny was confessing.

  She reeled back in the chair, hand flying to her mouth to cover her horror or surprise or relief, she didn’t even know. Had he decided to turn himself in? Did she even want him to?

  If he went to jail, Sydney would know everything. Her friends and schoolmates would know everything. Her daughter would be devastated. Her poor little baby.

  But Veronica shouldn’t try to stop him if he was doing the right thing. But what the hell was the right thing, anyway?

  “Okay, okay, okay,” she whispered to herself. Read the letter. Then think. Then decide.

  I’m sorry. I never wanted it to be this way, but everything got so out of control. I just wanted a better life.

  I haven’t been able to provide for my family. Not really. I wanted to give my little girl the best and I couldn’t. I needed money.

  Her eyes welled up from reading Johnny’s pain. She didn’t begrudge him his hurt. She knew he’d always had dreams; he just hadn’t been able to make them come alive. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, briefly blinded by her tears.

  They hadn’t had the right time together. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant, maybe she’d have had more freedom to nurture him. Maybe he would have matured and they’d have built something grand. More likely they’d have dated for another year or two and grown apart. Either way, he might have been more focused and successful. Instead he’d just gotten lost, overwhelmed by new responsibilities. They’d both gotten lost.

  She wiped her eyes on her T-shirt and tipped her gaze toward the ceiling until the urge to cry faded. Once Micah left, she and Johnny could figure this out. He might serve hardly any time at all if he struck a deal to testify against Trey and company. Bro loyalty or not, he had Sydney to protect. Surely he would do it.