Our Wicked Lies Gledé Kabongo (summer reading list .txt) 📖

better shape than most men half his age, thanks to a disciplined exercise regimen and no smoking, drugs, or alcohol.

Alicia, on the other hand, was no great beauty. She was okay with that, though. The only distinguishing physical feature she possessed was a single dimple on her left cheek that went so deep Eliot joked he could crawl into it and hibernate for months. As a stay-at-home mom, she worked overtime to convince herself that it was enough that she kept an impeccable home, was an amazing mother to their two daughters—Eliot’s words, not hers—and the perfect corporate wife. That she was enough.

Apparently, she wasn’t enough. The image flashed before her eyes once more. Eliot hadn’t removed Kat’s hand right away. Why not? Why wasn’t he angry or offended? Maybe it was as he’d said, that he was in shock, just as Alicia had been.

“What if Arnie had rounded the corner and caught you and Kat?” she insisted. “What if Richard had stumbled onto your little display?”

He went slack-jawed, as if the idea of being busted by someone other than his wife never occurred to him. Four years ago, Eliot made partner at Tillerson Brenner, an elite law firm where he specialized in project finance, a highly lucrative sub-specialty of corporate law. He was the only Africa-American to attain that position in the firm’s seventy-five-year history. Tillerson Brenner advised some of the largest corporations in the world, and Eliot worked hard to make a name for himself within the firm and with clients in an industry where reputation was everything. He couldn’t afford to make careless mistakes. Yet he had.

Eliot stood. “I have to go,” he said. “I’m really sorry about last night. I’m sorry it upset you so much. There was no enjoyment or encouragement on my part. I would never disrespect you that way. You’re the only woman for me. Nothing and nobody will ever change that.”

He came over to her, planted a kiss on her forehead, and told her he loved her. As he grabbed his Bottega briefcase off the kitchen island, he added, “I hope we can put this ugly incident behind us. It was a strange encounter and will never happen again.”

After he left, Alicia poured herself another cup of coffee and returned to leaning against the kitchen sink. Her gaze wandered over the scenic backyard, with its expansive views, lush trees, and manicured grass—a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts bouncing around in her head like rogue tennis balls. She had no reason to doubt Eliot’s version of the events from last night. Next week would mark their twentieth wedding anniversary. At no time during their marriage did he ever give her reason to doubt his commitment or fidelity. Not once. However, she couldn’t let Kat get away with what she had done. She owed Alicia an explanation.

CHAPTER 2

Alicia nearly sliced off her index finger as she chopped vegetables for a salad. She slammed the knife down on the kitchen counter and took a minute to compose herself. It was just a drunken mistake. Don’t make a big fuss about it.

Her best friend had been avoiding her all day. Alicia had left numerous voice messages, texts, and had even emailed her. No response. Kat and Richard DeLuca lived on the same street as Alicia and her family. It would have been easy to march herself over there and demand an explanation, but Alicia neither wanted nor needed a defensive Kat who would put up walls and make extracting the truth ten times harder.

She shoved her irritation aside and went to check on the lasagna in the oven, even though the timer would have alerted her it was ready.

Marston, her oldest daughter, and almost eighteen, sauntered into the kitchen, her long braids cascading down her face. “Hmm. Smells amazing, Mom. Do you need help with anything?”

“Yes, can you finish the salad, then set the table for dinner? I’ll get the garlic bread from the oven.”

Though she would never admit it to anyone, not even on a whispered breath, Marston was Alicia’s favorite child. Marston preferred the simple approach to life in everything from her wardrobe choices to her small social circle and volunteer work. But her firstborn’s true love was writing. She had talent, and it wasn’t just Alicia’s motherly pride talking. Marston had the prizes, and a college acceptance from Hamilton College—a small but elite liberal arts school in upstate New York where she planned to study creative writing.

Her younger daughter, Lily, was the opposite of “no fuss Marston”, as the family had nicknamed her. Lily loved fashion and socializing. During the summer months, she altered her makeup and wardrobe choices based on her deepened skin tone. At sixteen, she’d already decided on a legal career, to follow in her father’s footsteps. Lily adored children and wanted to spend her career advocating for them, but she would do so with the backing and resources of a top law firm. Practical Lily didn’t see any reason that she couldn’t rake in the big bucks and still do good in the world.

Alicia was proud of both her girls, their strong sense of self, ambition, and independence. They made her see the possibilities in life. The idea of returning to school to finish the degree she had abandoned, due to a personal tragedy, had been weighing on her mind lately. With Marston heading off to college in the fall and Lily not far behind, Alicia’s girls wouldn’t need her as much. It was time to finish what she’d started all those years ago. Her abandoned career didn’t matter financially—they were well off, thanks to Eliot’s jaw-dropping salary and astronomical bonuses. Alicia just wanted to accomplish something on her own.

As Alicia and Marston were putting the finishing touches on the lasagna dinner, Eliot strolled into the kitchen, a few minutes before six—a miracle. He worked grueling hours, usually barely ever home in time for dinner, but she never complained. That was