Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 4

Theodore was always saying she should stay home if he couldn't go out with her. He acted like he was doing her a favor, as if the world was just too dangerous for her to handle alone.

But none of them knew the truth.-

What she feared most was going out with Theodore. The idea terrified her even more than being on her own.

Because every single person who saw them together had the same question in their eyes: How could a man like that end up with a crippled wife?

She ordered a cab and gave the driver the address of the hotel.

As the car sped through the city, she stared blankly out the window, her thoughts a tangled mess. Suddenly, she spotted Theodore's car parked in front of a restaurant on the corner.

"Wait—could you pull over for a second?" she blurted, startling the driver.

Theodore's car was right there, outside the entrance.

She remembered: last night, one of Theodore's old friends had treated them to dinner. Today, it was Theodore's turn to host the group. Cecilia had even posted about it on Twitter.

Before she knew it, she'd climbed out of the car and was standing on the sidewalk.

Inside the restaurant, Emma approached the hostess. "Someone's already arrived for the Whitman party," she said, giving the last few digits of Theodore's phone number.

The hostess nodded and led her down a corridor to a private dining room. "Here you are."

"Thank you," Emma murmured, though her heart was pounding.

She didn't even know why she'd come. At home, she'd been swept up by some wild impulse—but standing here now, she realized she didn't even have the courage to open the door.

Laughter and conversation drifted out from the room.

"Can't stay out too late tonight, and I'm not drinking either. Got home drunk last night and my wife nearly bit my head off!"

That was one of Theodore's childhood friends.

"Are you even my brother anymore? You used to say your sister came first no matter what—now you're totally whipped. At least Theo's still one of the guys."

Cecilia's voice was sweet and syrupy, girlish and coy.

So that's what Cecilia was really like, Emma thought. That's the kind of woman Theodore likes.

But she could never be that way, not even if she tried.

"You've given her plenty of money. That's more than enough to pay off any debt, isn't it?"

"Exactly. You should've just written a check and walked away. Why sacrifice your whole life?"

"Seriously, Theo," another friend said, "you could have brought home a saint and at least prayed for good luck every Sunday. But a woman like that—what's the point? She can't help you at work, can't even fetch you a glass of water, right? And if she tries, you're just worried she'll spill it all over herself. Theo, you want a drink? Here, let me show you—like this, right?"

The room erupted with laughter.

Cecilia shrieked with delight, "Is that really how your wife walks, Theo?"

Emma, her ear pressed to the door, felt her face burning. Shame and rage crashed over her in a dizzying wave.

Before she realized what she was doing, she'd shoved the door open.

A chorus of laughter greeted her. She froze at the threshold.

Jared, one of Theodore's friends, was staggering around the room with a glass of water, mimicking a limp and pitching his voice high. "Theo, Theo, Theo, want some water? Oops—fell down! Theo, come pick me up!"

Emma looked at Theodore, her heart pounding with hope and desperation. This was the moment—would her husband, the man she loved more than anyone, finally stand up for her?