Watch Her Burn Read online

  Watch Her Burn

  Em Stevens

  Copyright © 2019 by Now and Wren Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is completely coincidental.

  © Cover Art by Now and Wren Publishing

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Watch Her Burn

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty One

  Twenty Two

  Twenty Three

  Twenty Four

  Twenty Five

  Twenty Six

  Twenty Seven

  Twenty Eight

  Twenty Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty One

  Thirty Two

  Thirty Three

  Thirty Four

  Thirty Five

  Thirty Six

  Thirty Seven

  Thirty Eight

  Thirty Nine

  Forty

  Forty One

  Forty Two

  Forty Three

  Forty Four

  Forty Five

  Forty Six

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR | www.emstevenswrites.com

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  www.emstevenswrites.com

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  Dedicated to my dad. I miss you every day.

  One

  Meg’s heart fluttered as she dressed for her twenty fifth wedding anniversary. Her husband was taking her to dinner. She didn’t expect a gift, though a sliver of her heart hoped for one. It was enough that she’d been able to push Shane to take the evening off from work, make reservations, and agree to celebrate. The Paris client was weighing on his mind and his trip looming, so she allowed dinner to be enough. Besides, it was their first date in God knew how long.

  She slipped the pearl earring into her ear and stood back to look in the mirror. Frowning, she smoothed the black dress down, as if she could press all the soft bits into place. The dress was new, purchased for this occasion. Black and shorter than the conservative styles she gravitated towards, she hoped that Shane would like it.

  There was a knock at the bedroom door.

  "Come in," Meg said, expecting her sixteen year old daughter, April, coming to tell her about whatever adventure she and her friends were off to that night. Or perhaps Ben, her son, coming to complain yet again that twelve was too old to need a babysitter. Instead, Meg caught the smiling face of said babysitter in the mirror and her shoulders relaxed. "Jamie! You're early."

  "I'm always early. I want to see my favorite lady before I hang with the kids." Jamie walked in, as comfortable in Meg's bedroom as she would be in her own house. Unsurprising, really. With the long history of friendship between them, Jamie had spent enough time in every home that Meg had lived in to call it her own. It didn't hurt that Jamie was family—Shane's twin sister. Older by three minutes.

  Meg admired her best friend and sister in law. Her trousers were black and pressed, the matching sport coat open to show a crisp blue oxford shirt, opened at the collar to show off a single silver chain. "I'm glad you came. You look dashing—going out after?"

  The wink and smirk Jamie shot her confirmed it. "Yeah, I'm going to the new club in Durham after."

  "What if Shane and I are late?"

  Jamie snorted. "Shane? Out late?"

  Meg joined their shared laughter but didn't feel the mirth. No, Shane wouldn't stay out late. It'd been a struggle to get him to agree to an anniversary dinner so close to his work trip. He'd be in Paris for almost three weeks while she stayed home and got the kids to school, cooked, cleaned, and waited for him to return. It shouldn't have been so hard to get him to agree to an anniversary dinner. Don't worry about that now. He did, and that's what matters.

  Perhaps Jamie caught a bit of her frustration, because she crossed the room and wrapped a comforting arm over Meg's shoulders. Jamie's eyes went to the mirror, playfully dragging up and down Meg's image. "Looking as good as you do, Shane just might prove us wrong. I'll bet he can't even make it to the restaurant before pulling over and screwing you in the backseat like a teenager."

  She couldn't help it; Meg burst into giggles. "Yeah right. Nothing says 'I need to take you now' like mom body! I look like a sausage overstuffed in its casing."

  "Shut your mouth. You look amazing. If you were at the club tonight, I'd seduce you until you had no choice but come home with me."

  Heat tickled at Meg's cheeks. Jamie always had a way of making her feel attractive, even Shane was too busy to notice her. Especially because Shane was too busy to notice her, perhaps. "Thanks. It's just been—"

  "I know. So where are you going?"

  "I'd hoped for Brewery Bhavana, but it was booked for months out. I think he's taking me to Crawford and Sons. Have you been there?"

  Jamie's blue eyes sparkled. "Yes! You'll love it. It's really good. Be sure to get dessert—it's the best part of the menu."

  Meg's hands ran over her larger hips again. "I don't think I should, my clothes have been too snug lately."

  "Please don't make me do the 'Meg, you're beautiful, stop beating yourself up' talk. You're gorgeous, my brother loves you and is a lucky bastard to be married to you, and it's your anniversary, so just eat the fucking cake."

  Exhaling, Meg pressed her palms to her eyes. Jamie was right. She was being ridiculous."I don't know why I'm so anxious. We've been together for thirty five years, twenty five of them married, for chrissakes. I'll get dessert and a cocktail, too. I deserve to enjoy this."

  "That's my girl."

  "Ben's going to give you a hard time, you know. He doesn't think he needs a babysitter."

  "He's right. I'm not here for him, I'm here for your peace of mind."

  Meg crossed her arms. "Twelve is not old enough to be alone."

  "April could stay. It'd feel less like a babysitter."

  "If April was in charge I'd come back to my house in flames. I'm very proud of this house, I'd prefer it not to burn to the ground."

  Jamie grasped at her belly as her laughter belted out. It was such an endearing trait, and one so essentially Jamie. The way it rumbled out of her, causing her to grasp her middle as if she might chuckle herself to pieces. Meg wagged a finger. "You're laughing because you know it's true."

  "I'm laughing because I love your family."

  Something softened in Meg's chest. "We're your family, too." She didn't miss the way Jamie's eyes darted away.

  "True. And don't think I don't want to be here. I love spending time with Ben."

  "Could you keep the video games to a minimum?"

  "No promises."

  They grinned at each other. The banter helped ease the fluttering in Meg's stomach. The night felt looming and important and saturated with possibility. Maybe being on the cusp of turning forty five wasn't such an awful thing. Maybe candlelight, delicious food
, and a few drinks would help Shane and her stumble back to each other. They could find a way to talk about the things they used to—dreams and art and politics and stars—instead of just the kids and how tired work was making him. Yes, she thought, firming up her courage, they could do that.

  A flash of headlights peeped through the window. She caught her breath, nervous again. "That's Shane."

  Jamie stood and opened her arms. Meg had no problem falling into them. She smelled the spice and musk on her sister-in-law and relished the crush of strong arms around her. "Good luck." Jamie's lower voice brushed over the bared skin of her neck. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

  Meg pulled away, a smirk teasing at the corner of her mouth. "Is there anything you wouldn't do?"

  "Haven't come across it yet."

  THE DRIVE HAD BEEN tense. Meg assumed something had happened at Shane's job. It crushed her, not only because of her hopes for their night, but because she hated how unhappy his work made him. Meg loved him and wanted him to be happy. He worked so hard for them: he deserved it. A long time ago, he'd loved his job and his company. As a chemist, he'd stepped in straight out of college and began working on pharmaceuticals. Every night he'd come home, exhilarated or passionately frustrated about something he'd discovered in the lab. He'd talk for hours about the ways cancer treatments were changing and how he was contributing to helping the world.

  But the same charming personality that she'd fallen in love with also earned Shane promotion after promotion, until one year he as promoted out of the lab and into sales. The money had been good. The money had been great, really. It paid for the Lexus SUV he was driving her to dinner in. It paid for their large, comfy house on the north side of Raleigh, and Meg had never had to worry about money or working and had instead focused on raising the children. Shane’s job had its perks, but the major drawback was its toll on Shane.

  Now she saw that toll as he sat across from her, shoulders tense and the wrinkles on his forehead deeper than she remembered. His hairline, too, was creeping back, though she found it only sweetened his appearance. She loved seeing the hints of the old man he'd become. One day they'd be grandparents, with white hair and crepe skin and he'd finally be able to relax with her again.

  "Long day?" She prodded, despite not wanting to hear about it. Not because she didn't care, but because she hoped to delve into more stimulating topics. Still, she knew it was important that she be supportive.

  "Hm?" He gave her a look that suggested he hadn't even heard her. Meg resisted the urge to frown.

  "Was it a long day?"

  "Ah, no." His brows were pressed together, though, and his body looked primed to run. Or fight. Meg felt her own response building, inner walls being bolstered to shield her from whatever the fight would be about. She raced through the past few days, trying to pinpoint something that she'd done to earn his stiff behavior, but found nothing out of order. Shane was upset and didn't want to talk about it. Meg wanted to let it go, but it was their anniversary dinner, for crying out loud.

  She finished her drink too quickly and flagged the waiter, ordering another. She wasn't a big drinker, but the situation felt loose—out of control. Ordering another drink was an attempt to regain some hold over the tense vibes building at their small table. When the waiter returned, she brought a fresh drink and an appetizer. Shane launched in without even mentioning how it looked or offering her the first bite. Meg loved food and found his blunt ambivalence appalling.

  "How... how is it?" It was a strain to try and stay civil. Maybe he was trying to provoke her? Prod her into starting the fight so that once it began, it would be her fault and not his that the evening was ruined? You don't stay married for so many years without learning the other person's tricks, and Shane had always been a dodger. He dodged responsibility for emotions like a professional running back. It took one to know one and she had tricks of her own. She wasn't going to fall for his ploy.

  Meg stabbed at the duck croquette and swirled it in the sauce before plunking a too-large bite in her mouth. Oh, but it was worth it. The myriad of tastes helped calm her. The food was excellent, her first drink was beginning to hum in her blood, and their evening wasn't ruined yet. With some effort from her, maybe the night could be salvaged. And, she thought with a smirk, Jamie might have been on to something when she'd joked about parking. It had been a long, time since she and Shane had done something remotely risque. Perhaps not sex, as her tight dress was difficult to get on and maneuver in, but she could go down on him. A gift of teasing tongue to show him that she was still there, still interested in him.

  "It's so good," she gushed, going for another bite.

  "Yeah, it's okay," he replied. Once upon a time, they would have dissected the tastes, trying to figure out the more nuanced ingredients so she could try to replicate it later. He had amazing abilities when it came to discerning herbs and spices. Meg sighed out her disappointment and sipped her drink. There was still the main course and, if the night continued like this, she may as well skip dessert, despite Jamie's suggestion. Some part of her was already imagining recounting this dinner to Jamie later. The bonus to being best friends with her husband's twin was Jamie got it when Meg needed to complain. After all, she'd known Shane from the womb on.

  It bothered Meg that she found more relief in the idea of speaking with her husband's sister than to him during their anniversary dinner. What was wrong with them? Weren't they happy? He worked hard to provide the house, the cars, the vacations, and the comfort. She worked hard to maintain the home, raise their children, and keep everyone healthy and safe. Wasn't that what their marriage was about? Didn't he find satisfaction with it? With her?

  Doubt crept in, turning the drink and first bites of food in her stomach. She needed to tell him. They'd always struggled a bit with communication, but they'd also never needed a lot of help. Shane and Meg had been a couple since they were fourteen; growing up and then growing older together had allowed them to skip all of the difficult complications of dating and emotional management. Meg knew others were envious of their commitment, of the level of ease and innate understanding found in their relationship. But if he was going to sit and pout over something she didn't understand the whole evening, well... well that was simply unacceptable.

  Wringing the napkin in her lap, Meg inhaled deeply. "Shane—"

  He was still looking at his drink, eyes cast down, when he interrupted. "I want a divorce."

  Two

  Once, when Meg was very young, she'd spend hours at a time in the pool. Jamie and Shane would be splashing and wrestling, their sibling rivalry and sweltering sun pushing them to fight, both in play and in earnest. Meg, though, would settle in along the side, letting her legs drift and gently paddle, admiring the twins while protecting her space. When their games crossed the line from fun into trouble, with sharp voices and heated words, she'd slip under the water, avoiding being asked to pick a side. Underneath, it was quiet. She'd open her eyes, ignoring the sting of chlorine, fond of the way the water muffled the sounds of arguing. It was still and nebulous, focus tunneling down to the beat of her heart and the strain of her lungs. Meg wanted to pause life, holding her breath until her chest screamed and black spots appeared in her vision, a final warning that nothing could stop the clock.

  Shane looked at her from across the table, his eyes wide with concern. "Meg? Did you hear me?"

  Oh, she'd heard him. A divorce. It didn't feel real. It couldn’t be real, could it? The words held so little weight, her mind let them sieve through, eager to toss them back out before they found a home. But Shane's request was filled with daggers that pierced and sliced, refusing to pass through, determined to begin a scarring process she couldn't begin to comprehend. Meg's hand rubbed above her chest. "What do you mean?"

  His face softened, and she despised him. Don't pity me, she thought fiercely. Shane didn't catch the change in her mood. She knew he only saw an opportunity to push. "I've been speaking to a lawyer—"

  Her
blood froze and she stopped rubbing at the ache in her chest, her fingers curling in like claws. "A lawyer? For how long?"

  "Don't worry—Don't look at me like that, I only spoke to one because I wanted to make this as easy on you as I could."

  "Easy? You want an easy divorce?"

  "Of course." He reached across the table, holding his hand open in an offering. Meg looked at it as though it were stained. His closed his fingers and withdrew. "Meg, darling, I still care about you. I love you and the kids. This isn't about hurting you."

  "But if you care about me—love me—then why? I just—"

  He shrugged and it was so pitiful she almost felt for him. Shane's chest caved in the way it did when work was so brutal he couldn't leave it at the door. How long had he wanted this? How long had she been weighing him down?

  "I-I just... " But he sputtered, tripping over an explanation he should have expected to need to give. A hand dragged roughly through his hair, leaving it spiked on one side. "You were my first real girlfriend."

  "You kissed Jenny Lawrence next to the lockers outside of social studies."

  His responding smile was tight. "That was just a kiss. She wasn't my girlfriend. And the fact that you know that—that you remember it and were there is the point."

  "You haven't made a point yet." Meg imagined her stare was blistering.

  "All I've ever known is you. And all you've ever known is me."

  Meg bit her lip. It was true. They were all of the firsts, with the exception of that kiss that Jenny had stolen. But Shane was saying it like it was a bad thing. She'd built her entire world around the two of them. Every choice weighed and executed with Shane and their future in mind. Meg had chosen a family, had chosen to devote herself to a home and the people inside of it. What she'd made with Shane, wasn't just all she'd ever known. It was her. And he was making it sound awful. Meg grabbed her napkin, prepared to have to start dabbing her eyes.

  "I know this is bad timing—"

  "You think? It's our fucking anniversary."