A Stranger on the Beach - Michele Campbell Page 0,3

I never saw it coming. I was way too trusting. No, wait, I’m letting myself off the hook too easily. The truth, warts and all. It’s not just that I’m trusting. I’m too damn full of myself. It never occurred to me that a man would cheat on me—at least, that Jason would. I was a cheerleader in high school and student body president in college. I got every guy and every job I ever wanted. Jason always said I was his dream girl. I never doubted him, because I never doubted myself. But I was wrong. His feelings had changed. When had that happened? How long had this been going on?

I was floored.

“Caroline? Are you there?”

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to cry. I would be calm, and dignified, but call him on his bullshit, because I wasn’t a doormat. I would make him tell me the truth.

“What aren’t you telling me, Jason?”

“What? Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re hiding something.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you cheating on me?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

But I had proof. At least, I had proof that he was in a hotel in Times Square right this minute, when he claimed to be in Cleveland. I couldn’t tell him that, though. If I confronted him with the evidence, he’d know I was tracking his phone, and I wanted to be able to keep doing it.

Jason sighed, like I was the one causing trouble. “Enough drama, babe. It’s late. I’ll do my best to get to your party, okay? But no promises. You need to cut me some slack. Things are complicated at work right now.”

He was lying to me, and I knew it, but he refused to own up to it. What more could I do?

“Caroline?”

“I have to go,” I said, and hung up on him.

I sat there on the sofa, too stunned to cry. It was like I aged twenty years in the space of that one phone call. I hadn’t realized until right that minute that I wasn’t little Caroline Logan anymore, with my high ponytail, my cute figure, my cheerleader outfit. I was middle-aged Caroline Stark, semi-unemployed housewife, empty nester. And my husband was cheating on me.

4

At seven sharp the band began to play. They were set up in a tent on the lawn, to one side of the swimming pool. The music floated on the ocean breeze as the waiters dashed in and out in white jackets, passing trays of chili-lime shrimp and glasses of rosé. I grabbed a glass off a tray and thought, I ought to be enjoying myself. This is my big night. I can’t let Jason ruin it for me. Easier said than done. He hadn’t shown up yet, and I couldn’t stop watching the door.

In the living room, I took up position in front of the sweeping wall of windows that looked out over the ocean. I wore a white dress to match the décor. I could turn in one direction and watch the waves crash. Or turn in the other for a view across the double-height living room to the front door, where guests were arriving, stepping out of their shiny cars and tossing their keys to the valet. I’d been a little worried that nobody would come, that they wouldn’t drive out from the city this late in September. But they were showing up in droves. Everybody but the person I was waiting for.

Each time the front door opened, I looked up and plastered a smile on my face so big I felt like my cheeks would crack. And each time, when it wasn’t my husband, I had to take a deep breath to fight off the panic. I made excuses about Jason’s absence to the guests as we hugged and air-kissed. Important deal, flight delay, missed connection, on his way, yada yada yada. I hate to lie, but I do believe in putting on a good face for company. I couldn’t bring myself to tell the world that I didn’t know where my own husband was. All I knew was that, with every second that passed, I got angrier, and more insecure, and more hurt.

The guests were too polite to comment on Jason’s absence, until my sister Lynn walked in with her husband, Joe. God love her, Lynn’s a loudmouth, like all the Logans, but she’s not mean. Just oblivious. She’s the one sibling I’m close with now. Among the living, that is. It’s a long story, but