THE WOMAN BEFORE

Chapter 17

R O S I N A

     CURLED UP ON the sofa in the living room and nursing a glass of wine, I tell myself things will get better, but I know they won’t. I’m trying to find the tenuous reason to stay in this relationship. None has popped up so far. I look at the ring on my hand. Should I tell him what’s on my mind?

     He should be here any moment, and when he comes, I will welcome him into my house, tell him what his crazy ex did, and give him back his wedding ring. Then I will pack my things and leave this place in the next three days. It sounds easy in thought, but it’s difficult in action.

     The truth is that I never thought Isla was capable of this. I know she’s a convict. I don’t know the crime she committed that landed her in prison, but from the looks of things, she’s capable of anything. I thought prison was meant to refine people and make them better versions of themselves. It seems I’ve been wrong. Prison didn’t reform Isla. It made her worse.

      If I continue with this relationship, she’s going to come for my head. Evans has to deal with his crazy ex, or else I don’t think I can become his wife, not when Isla is already sneaking into my house.

     The doorbell rings and my attention drifts to the entrance. On any other day, I’d have sprinted from the couch to the door in a frenzied hurry to let him in. But not tonight.

     Tonight isn’t a good night for me, and it shouldn’t be for Evans. Maybe I will end it tonight. I don’t know how he’d take it, but I need to do this. I was naive to think Evans was the perfect gentleman and was a potential perfect husband. His past is still his past. Whatever he had with Isla is catching up with him and with me too. He needs to deal with it, and I don’t think he can do that with me between the two of them.

     Reluctantly I sit up, slide my legs into the rubber slippers, and head to the foyer. I open the door, my mind deciding on what to tell him. Evans stands in the doorway, a brown paper encasing the Chardonnay I told him to bring along.

     “Hey,” he says with a warm smile.

     It feels hard to respond to him. The thought of Isla in my house today makes my skin crawl. And the silly note, I’m just getting started makes me sick. But I know the note isn’t silly. It’s a warning and I won’t take it lightly, especially from a convict. I can’t imagine the kind of shady people she mingled with in prison and the bad knowledge she acquired.

     “Hey,” I say dryly.

     He stares at me. I know he’s expecting me to start a conversation, or at least take the wine from him. When I do none of them, he steps inside and I close the door behind him. We walk to the living room, where my glass of unfinished wine sits on the center table, and the duvet is strewn on the couch.

     He places the wine on the table and turns to me. “You look down. What’s the matter?”

     He always knows when something is bothering me, and it breaks my heart that I’m going to call off our wedding tonight. Lauren was right. I had always thought she was jealous of me, but now I know she wasn’t. Maybe we’re rushing things. We met months ago, dated, and now we’re getting married. It feels all too planned and surreal.

     On second thought, we need to slow down. Marriage is a big responsibility which requires a lot of commitment. Unless I want a divorce a year later, Evans and I should slow down. I glance at the ring and slowly bring it out.

     He looks at me in complete silence, then he says, “What are you doing?”

     It hurts even to look into his eyes and tell him I can no longer be his wife. Sheepishly, I pace toward him and dip the ring in his breast pocket, then tap on it.