THE WOMAN BEFORE

Chapter 9

R O S I N A

     WE ENTER THE kitchen simultaneously, and I pack the leftovers for Evans. He’s standing by the sink, washing the plates under the running water. The scene reminds me of how lucky I am to have someone like him as a partner. He’s very experienced and above all supportive. He’s loosened his tie and folded the sleeves to his elbow, making him look funny with what he’s doing but attractive nonetheless. I don’t always see handsome men like him in the kitchen. All the men I’ve dated never assisted me in the kitchen. Not that it matters. I’m glad I broke up with all of them as they were never marriage material.

     I listen as chinawares cling loudly while he wipes them with a napkin and arranges them in the cabinet. Evans is the perfect man, and I’m sure he’s going to be the perfect husband.

     When he’s done, I near him and wrap my hands around his waist, resting my head on his back.

     “There’s something I want to ask you,” I say.

     He turns around and takes my hand. “I’m all ears.”

     A cold wind wafts into the kitchen. I look through the blinds and stare out at the idyllic neighborhood shrouded in the dark, the trees swaying rhythmically to the gentle wind.

     “Let’s sit on the porch. The weather is soothing,” I suggest.

     “All right.”

     We pace side by side to the porch and sit on the swing bed. I scoot over to him, placing my head on his shoulder.

     Three seconds elapse before I broach what I want to ask him. “Tell me about your past relationship.”

     I feel his slight tremble, as though he weren’t expecting this question. I’m sure I took him by surprise. We’ve been in a relationship for a while now, and I don’t know a thing about his past.

     He sits up and faces me. “What do you want to know?”

     I glance at him. “Everything.”

     “All right.” He sighs. “I was once in love with a woman. Her name is Isla. We started our little business here in Amarillo. We were in love. At some point, I thought I was going to marry her.”

     I stare at him, intrigued. I sense that something terrible happened to their relationship. Terrible enough to destroy him. “What happened?” I ask anxiously as though he isn’t going to finish his story.

     “She went to prison.”

     My eyes light up. “What did she do?”

     Another cold wind howls across the porch, carrying with it the scent of rain. It’s balmy. I inhale sharply.

     Evans takes my hand and pats it. “Long story, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

     He’s hiding something—something he doesn’t want me to know. I trust my husband-to-be. If he doesn’t want me to know, then it’s something I shouldn’t be concerned about. Now I’m curious as to what happened to Isla. Why was she arrested? Did she ever get out? And most importantly, is Evans still in love with her? I’ve got so many questions, and I know I can get answers one at a time.