Chapter 13 - The Call I Never Expected From Natalie
My first instinct was to drive to Natalie’s house.
I did not.
That mattered.
Instead, I asked, “Are you physically safe?”
“Yes.”
“Is Ben there?”
“No.”
“Did he threaten to come back?”
“No.”
“Save every message.”
“I already screenshotted them.”
“Good.”
She sounded surprised.
Maybe she expected anger.
Maybe she expected me to say she deserved it.
A small, ugly part of me wanted to.
I let that part stay silent.
“I’m calling Leah,” I said.
“Ethan—”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
I leaned against the workshop wall.
“For what specifically?”
“For bringing this back into your life.”
I looked at the maple boards stacked beside me.
“It never completely left.”
She began crying.
I waited until she could speak.
“Ben says you’ve been harassing him and Elise.”
“I haven’t.”
“I know.”
The words stopped me.
Natalie continued.
“He wants me to say you followed me to the party because you were controlling.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“He wrote the statement already.”
“Don’t sign anything. Send it to your lawyer.”
“I did.”
“And don’t meet him alone.”
She was quiet.
Then she said, “You still sound like my husband.”
That hurt more than I expected.
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
Another silence.
“I’m sorry.”
After we hung up, I called Leah.
By morning, Natalie’s attorney had contacted her.
The draft statement Ben wanted Natalie to sign was astonishing.
According to it, I had tracked Natalie’s location, appeared at the party without invitation, threatened Ben repeatedly afterward, and recruited Elise to destroy his reputation.
Most of it was fiction.
Some of it bent real events until they resembled fiction.
That was more dangerous.
The best lies were rarely invented from nothing.
They rearranged true furniture in a false room.
Leah told me not to contact Ben under any circumstance.
I happily agreed.
Rachel came to the workshop during lunch.
She brought sandwiches.
“I figured you forgot food existed.”
“I had coffee.”
“That isn’t food.”
“My father would disagree.”
She placed a sandwich on the bench.
I told her about Natalie’s call.
Rachel’s expression hardened.
“He’s threatening to release private photos?”
“That’s what she said.”
“That’s disgusting.”
I nodded.
Then she looked at me carefully.
“You worried about her?”
“Yes.”
The answer came easily.
Rachel did not seem offended.
That relieved me.
“I don’t want to be married to Natalie,” I said. “That doesn’t mean I want someone terrorizing her.”
“I know.”
I looked at her.
“How?”
“Because leaving somebody doesn’t require becoming cruel.”
The sentence stayed with me.
That afternoon, I received an email from a potential customer canceling a six-thousand-dollar conference-table order.
They had seen the viral post.
They did not accuse me of anything.
They simply said they had decided to go “in another direction.”
Businesses always went in another direction when they did not want to say they were afraid of bad publicity.
I stared at the email for a long time.
Then I closed it.
At five, Luke arrived carrying beer.
“One each,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because you look like the type of man who could drink six.”
He was right.
We sat outside the workshop.
I told him about Ben.
Luke listened.
Then he asked, “Want me to punch him?”
“No.”
“Good, because my shoulder’s been weird.”
I laughed.
Luke became serious.
“You know what’s driving him crazy, right?”
“What?”
“You’re not competing.”
I considered that.
Ben had built his affair around comparison.
He was exciting.
I was practical.
He was spontaneous.
I was dependable.
Even after everything collapsed, he still seemed to need the contest.
But I had stopped playing.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED OUT OF MY MARRIAGE.
I showed Luke.
“Ben?”
“Probably.”
Then another arrived.
ASK YOUR LITTLE CAFÉ GIRL HOW SAFE SHE FEELS.
The world narrowed.
I stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
Luke grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t.”
“I’m calling Rachel.”
“Good.”
My hands shook as I dialed.
She answered on the second ring.
“I’m fine,” she said before I could speak.
“What happened?”
“Someone threw a rock through the front window.”
My heart slammed.
“Anybody hurt?”
“No.”
“Police?”
“Here now.”
I was already reaching for my keys.
Rachel heard it.
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“Come if you want to help.”
I stopped.
Her voice remained steady.
“But don’t come looking for somebody to blame.”
I closed my eyes.
She knew exactly where my mind had gone.
And she was asking me to choose before I arrived.
I put the keys down for three seconds.
Then I picked them up again.
May you like
This time, differently.
“I’m coming to help with the window.”
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