Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) Read Online Free Page B

it was cheaper, and we didn’t need a whole bottle, he reasoned. “Especially since you’ve already had a martini,” he chided.
    When our meals came, he repeatedly stole bites of shrimp from my plate of Scampi. He didn’t ask, just helped himself. And it wasn’t like the plate was overflowing with the pink morsels.
    But the worst was that third dinner guest. The phone. It vibrated the whole night long. Texts, emails and even a phone call. He never let a message go unattended. And never a word to me about what was going on. He barely even excused himself each time he went to reply.
    Finally halfway through dinner, he groaned, almost comically. “Bets, I gotta go to the office and fix this. Wilson got the wrong account files, and – never mind. Suffice it to say, I’m the only one who seems to know what is going on over there. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes.”
    And then he left. Our anniversary dinner. For work. I didn’t finish my dinner, but I certainly had a couple more drinks.
    When he returned twenty minutes later, he gave me my anniversary gift. It was the same thing I got every anniversary, Christmas and birthday. A card with gift card for the mall. “Because it’s so versatile,” he always said. Really? I spent what I wanted with his credit card as it was. What was the difference?
    Didn’t he know how much that night hurt me? On the ride home, I was quiet, only saying as much as was absolutely necessary. I fussed with the radio more than usual. I was super quick when I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I practically ran to bed, then pretended to be asleep by the time he crawled in. And guess who came to bed with us? Yup. His cell phone.
    Deep down, I knew the Wilson account was a big one. Anyone in town would know that. But, were the Wilsons more important than one night with me? Or was I being overly sensitive? It was my husband’s exceptional account handling and attention to detail that had gotten him to the position he was in, with a paycheck to match. I did get to reap the benefits in our gorgeous home, our cabin in Lake Tahoe, my annual new car and so on. But, I didn’t really care about all that. I often found our house too big. The skiing was his thing. I didn’t really care if my car wasn’t the newest model, or had a tiny scratch or ding.
    It was like he didn’t know me at all… Or maybe he just didn’t care. And quite frankly, after twenty some years of it, I didn’t care. I didn’t know who I was. I knew that I was Mrs. Gregory Fairchild, but where was Elizabeth Morris? Did I care? Yes. I did. And I was going to find her. I was going to find me. In New York. On my own. I was already feeling stronger.

    I knew she listened to my voicemails and read my texts. She had to have by now. Why wouldn’t she talk to me? None of this made any sense.
    What did I do? I’d always been kind. I went out of my way to make things easy for her. I protected and provided. And this was the thanks I got?
    Well, screw her and the horse she rode in on! I poured myself another gin and tonic, and looked at her letter again.
    But she was the mother of our three beautiful, smart, and successful children. She made food better than a five star restaurant. She knew everything about me.
    I loved her.
    Why was she doing this? She said in her letter she loved me. She said it a few times. And she said that I was perfect. So what in the hell was going on?
    And New York? Why would she have gone there? She didn’t know anyone there, did she? It had to be a man. Plain and simple. You didn’t jet across the country to figure out what you’re made of, to New York or all places, unless you’re stupid, or a guy was there waiting for you. Elizabeth wasn’t stupid. It must have been a guy.
    My calls to Jessica and her mother were fruitless, too. How had she gotten them to be so tight-lipped? Well, Jessica — fine. Friends since the beginning of time. But Clarissa Morris? She would never stand for this little