Page 6 of Marriage & Mockery

She was really gone.

And it was because of me.

4

LAINA

The parking lot at Hotel June was half empty when I pulled in. Low lights glowed against the renovated bungalows, the whole place still carrying the bones of the old roadside motel it used to be. The small, boutique hotel felt nothing like the sleek places Bennett preferred, which was part of why I’d chosen it. I’d always wanted to stay here, and the privacy offered by only having thirteen bungalows on four acres without a full restaurant or bar was exactly what I needed right now.

I grabbed my carry-on from the back seat and walked into the small lobby, relieved that I’d made it here before they closed at nine.

A young woman behind the counter looked up with a polite smile. “Hi. Checking in?”

“Yes. Laina Parker. I called a little bit ago.”

“Oh, yes. It was me you spoke with.” She tapped at the keyboard. “I have you in room four for one night, one of our king bungalows.”

“Thank you.” I handed her my credit card and driver’s license. “Is the room available for additional nights if I decide to extend my stay in the morning?”

“Let me check.” She tapped a few more keys before smiling. “As of right now, it’s open for the next week.”

“Great, thanks for looking.”

“My pleasure.” She slid a key card across the counter. “Wi-Fi password is on the holder. The minibar in your room is fully stocked. There’s also a yoga mat in your room, and we have bicycles and surfboards available on a first-come, first-served basis. Complimentary coffee and tea are available in the lobby starting at six o’clock until noon.”

“Perfect.” Glancing over my shoulder, I asked, “Do I need to put anything in my car for parking?”

She shook her head. “No need. I’ll just add the fee to your room.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good night.”

I nodded, took the key, and headed back outside. The path to the bungalows was lined with soft outdoor lights. Number four was next door to the lobby, and I’d walked past it on my way to check in. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and let it shut behind me.

The room was blissfully quiet. I dropped the carry-on by the door and stood there for a moment. Then the first sob broke out of my chest, and I pressed a hand over my mouth as though I could still keep it contained. But there was no holding back my pain now that I was alone.

I stayed where I was until the worst of the sobs passed. My chest still ached and my eyes burned, but the edge finally dulled enough that only a slow slide of tears remained.

The room was quiet in a way our house never was. It was just me and the heavy knowledge of what had happened tonight pressing against my chest.

The double betrayal stung even more now that I didn’t have to hold myself together in front of anyone. My husband had handed the world a version of me to laugh at, and my daughter didn’t think he was wrong.

Although my legs were shaky, I forced myself to stand. Then I unzipped the carry-on and pulled out my pajamas and the small bag of toiletries I’d thrown in earlier. Padding into the bathroom, I turned on the faucet and washed my face, watching the makeup swirl down the drain in streaks. The cold water felt good against my skin, slightly easing some of the swelling. With that done, I changed out of my gown and into soft pajama pants and a matching T-shirt, leaving the dress in a heap on the bathroom floor.

Although I felt more comfortable, it didn’t really help. I still felt as though there was a tight band around my ribs, making it hard to breathe.

I sat back down on the bed and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.

The quiet had relieved me when I arrived, but it wasn’t long before I realized it allowed my thoughts to spin even more. I needed something to distract me from the pain, so I reached for my phone.

The screen lit up with a string of notifications. Missed calls from Bennett. Texts from him. A couple of messages from numbers I didn’t immediately recognize. I ignored all of them and opened the browser instead, typing in the name of the show before I could talk myself out of it.

The first results made my stomach drop.

Clips from the awards were already everywhere, just like Lucy had said. There were stories to go along with them now, too. And memes. One of which stopped my scrolling in its tracks.

The image was a still from the broadcast. The camera must’ve panned to me at the exact wrong moment because they caught my face when the meaning of Bennett’s words had registered. I looked exactly how I’d felt, horrified. My skin was pale, my eyes were wide, and my lips were parted.