Chapter 6 - THE THINGS A FATHER DOES NOT GET TO UNDO

My Husband Left With His Mistress—Then Her Husband Whispered, “Let’s Give Them Something to Regret.” My husband ran away with my best friend, and less than 24 hours later, her husband stood in my parking garage and made me an offer so outrageous I thought I had misheard him. “Why don’t you and I get together?” Luca Moretti said calmly. “Let’s see how they feel when the 2 people they betrayed end up happier without them.” My name is Claire Bennett, and at 3:17 on a Tuesday afternoon, my life split in half. I was presenting to one of our biggest clients in downtown Las Vegas when my phone began vibrating beside my laptop. The messages were from my husband, Ryan. Claire, I’m sorry. I’m leaving with Vanessa. Please don’t come looking for us. Then I opened the photograph. Ryan was standing inside Harry Reid International Airport with Vanessa Moretti, my best friend of 10 years. Their fingers were intertwined, and they were smiling like newlyweds. Vanessa was wearing the cream coat I had bought the week before. Around her neck was the pearl necklace Ryan’s mother had given me on our wedding day. I barely made it into the stairwell before my knees gave out. Ryan did not answer my calls. Vanessa did not answer either. I sat on those concrete steps crying until my chest hurt, replaying every dinner, every argument, every time Vanessa had hugged me and said, “Claire, Ryan loves you. Don’t give up on your marriage.” Now I understood why she had always defended him. When I finally returned home, half of Ryan’s clothes were gone. His suitcase. His razor. His toothbrush. Everything. There was a letter on my nightstand. Ryan wrote that he loved Vanessa. He said being married to me had made him feel inadequate because I was too successful, too confident, too capable. Then came the sentence that made me tear the letter into pieces. Vanessa understands me in a way you never did. Before I could even process it, my mother called. “Claire, your father had a heart attack.” I spent that night at the hospital pretending my marriage had not just collapsed because my father was lying beneath an oxygen tube, telling me he intended to live long enough to meet my future children. The next morning, I returned home exhausted. 3 black SUVs were waiting beneath my building. Then Luca Moretti stepped out. Vanessa’s husband. Everyone in Las Vegas knew his name. Luca was the head of the Moretti family, a man whose quiet reputation frightened people more than shouting ever could. That morning, however, he looked exhausted. “Your husband ran away with my wife,” he said. “We need to talk.” 20 minutes later, we were sitting across from each other in a private restaurant booth. “She told me they found true love,” Luca said bitterly. I nearly laughed. “We both married terrible people.” For the first time, amusement flashed across his face. Then he leaned back. “Why don’t you and I get together?” I stared at him. “Are you insane?” “No.” “You want us to date because our spouses cheated with each other?” “Yes.” “That’s revenge.” “Absolutely.” Despite everything, I laughed. It was the first laugh I had managed since seeing the airport photograph. I still told him no. Luca stood and placed a black card on the table. A phone number. “When you get tired of lying awake wondering where Ryan is and what he’s doing with my wife,” he said, “call me.” That night, I lay alone in the bed Ryan and I had shared for 5 years. I kept seeing Vanessa in my coat. Ryan holding her hand. Both of them smiling. Sometime after midnight, I finally sat up. Luca’s card was still in my purse. “This is insane,” I whispered. Then I dialed. The phone rang once. Twice. A deep voice answered. “Claire.” I froze. He already knew it was me. “Claire.” Luca’s voice moved through the phone, low and steady. I sat on the edge of the bed with 1 hand pressed against my chest as if I could quiet the frantic rhythm beneath my ribs. “How did you know it was me?” “You called from the number listed on your office profile.” “That doesn’t answer my question.” “No,” he said. “It doesn’t.” The silence between us felt different from the silences I had shared with Ryan. Ryan’s silences had always felt empty, as if he were waiting for me to stop talking. Luca’s felt deliberate. He was giving me room to decide whether I wanted to continue. I looked at the black card beside me. “I shouldn’t have called.” “You probably shouldn’t have married my wife’s best friend either.” The words were dry enough that, despite myself, a breath of laughter escaped me. “I didn’t know she was going to become your wife when I met her.” “And I didn’t know she was going to become someone else’s problem.” This time I laughed properly. Quietly. Reluctantly. Enough to surprise myself. Luca did not laugh with me, but I heard something soften in his voice. “Are you all right?” The question caught me off guard. “No.” “That’s honest.” “I’m exhausted. My father had a heart attack yesterday. Ryan left me for Vanessa. My mother thinks I’m holding myself together because I haven’t broken anything yet. And now I’m talking to you at 1 in the morning because apparently I’ve lost all sense.” “You haven’t lost your sense.” “You barely know me.” “I know you answered the phone.” “That could mean anything.” “It means you wanted someone to answer.” I looked toward the dark window. Las Vegas glowed beyond the glass, bright and restless, as though the city had no understanding of exhaustion or grief. “What do you want from me, Luca?” “I want to meet tomorrow.” “For what purpose?” “To discuss the offer.” “I already told you no.” “You told me the idea was insane.” “That was the polite version.” “Then tell me the impolite version over coffee.” I closed my eyes. I should have hung up. A sensible woman would have deleted his number, called a lawyer, arranged for Ryan’s belongings to be removed, and spent the next several months rebuilding her life without making decisions while heartbroken. But I had spent 5 years being sensible for 2 people. I had supported Ryan’s career changes, defended his insecurities, remembered his mother’s birthday, and softened every truth that might bruise his pride. I had done the same with Vanessa in friendship. I had made room for their disappointments until there was no room left for mine. “Coffee,” I said. “1 hour.” “10 in the morning?” “I have to go to the hospital first.” “I’ll come with you.” “No.” “I wasn’t asking to see your father.” “Then what were you asking?” “To drive you.” “I can drive myself.” “I know.” “Then why offer?” “Because you haven’t slept, and the hospital parking garage is confusing even when you’re well rested.” I frowned. “How do you know it’s confusing?” “I’ve been there.” “For what?” “My sister’s surgery last year.” The answer was simple, but something in it made me pause. “Is she all right?” “She is now.” “And you still remember the garage?” “I remember everything that matters when I’m worried.” I did not know what to say. Luca continued. “I’ll wait downstairs at 9:30. If you don’t want me to drive you, tell the doorman to send me away.” “Your confidence is remarkable.” “It has been mistaken for arrogance before.” “Frequently?” “By people who didn’t know me well.” “And by people who did?” “Occasionally.” Another pause. “Fine. But you are not coming into my father’s hospital room.” “I won’t.” “And this is not a date.” “I understand.” “And I am not agreeing to your ridiculous arrangement.” “I understand that too.” “Then why are you coming?” “Because you called.” This time I ended the call. I slept for less than 3 hours. At 9:28 the next morning, I entered the lobby wearing a navy blouse, black trousers, and the expression of a woman who had not cried in at least 6 hours. Luca stood near the revolving doors. He wore a charcoal suit without a tie. His dark hair was slightly disordered, as though he had run his fingers through it more than once. He held 2 cups of coffee. When he saw me, he offered one. “I didn’t know how you took it, so I got it black.” I accepted the cup. “That’s how I take it.” “I know.” I looked at him. He looked away first. The drive to the hospital was quiet without being uncomfortable. Luca did not ask me to explain anything. He did not mention Ryan or Vanessa. He did not fill the silence with advice. After we parked, he pointed toward the elevators. “The green signs lead to the main lobby. The blue ones lead to outpatient. Your father’s floor is on the west side, so take the second elevator.” I stopped. “You really do remember everything.” “I told you.” “Does that include your wife running away?” His expression changed slightly. “I remember the day she met you.” I had not expected that. “Why?” “She came home with your name in every other sentence.” I looked at him. “Vanessa talked about me?” “She said you were brave.” The word settled strangely between us. Vanessa had always made me feel seen. That was part of what made her betrayal so difficult. I had believed our friendship was built on a deep understanding of one another. “What else did she say?” “That you were ambitious.” He continued. “That you had a way of walking into a room and making people feel as if something important had begun.” I stared at him. “She said that?” “She said it after your first promotion.” I remembered the night. Vanessa had brought champagne to my apartment. Ryan had smiled politely while she praised me and spent the rest of the evening complaining that his own work had gone unnoticed. At the time, I thought he was tired. Luca noticed my expression. “Was that not how she described you?” “She usually said I was stubborn.” “She said that too.” I almost smiled. “Did she say anything kind about you?” His gaze moved toward the elevator. “Not often.” There was something in the answer that made me want to ask more, but the elevator arrived. My father was awake when I entered his room. He looked pale and thinner than he had the night before, but he smiled when he saw me. “There she is,” he said. “The most overworked woman in Nevada.” “Good morning to you too.” “You’re late.” “It’s 9:45.” “Exactly. I’ve been waiting 15 minutes.” My mother sat beside the bed holding a paper cup of tea. She smiled tiredly, then looked past me. Luca was standing just outside the room. My mother recognized him immediately. “Oh.” My father turned his head. His eyebrows rose. “Is that Moretti?” Luca stepped inside. “Mr. Bennett.” “Your father knows me?” I asked. “Everybody knows him,” Dad said. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.” “It isn’t always.” Luca approached and held out his hand. My father studied him before accepting it. “Your grandfather helped me once.” Luca became more attentive. “When?” “About 20 years ago. I was trying to stop my company from being swallowed by a larger firm. Your grandfather sent me a lawyer who found a clause nobody else noticed.” “What company?” I asked. “Bennett Supply.” He looked at me. “Before your time.” “Before I was born.” “Your grandfather had a good eye for people,” Luca said. “Did he?” My father studied him. “Then he must have seen something I missed.” I felt the tension before I understood it. “What does that mean?” Dad looked toward my mother. She lowered her eyes. “Nothing.”

10 chapters