I watched him like a baby duckling. He was so patient. So discreet. I thought he wanted to spare me embarrassment, but I guess he was training his trophy wife. That’s what I am, right?
I leave my napkin on the table, grab my glass of wine, and drain it.
The corners of Adrian’s mouth turn down. Guess he doesn’t like me chugging my Montrachet.
It feels oddly good, almost a physical relief, to displease him.
How would it feel to make him mad?
I shove my chair back, and it screeches satisfyingly on the hardwood. I forget about my cut-up soles for a second, so I hiss when my foot lands on the floor, but it’s only two more steps to grab the bottle from Adrian’s side of the table. I return to my seat and refill my glass to the brim.
Adrian lowers his fork to his plate with great deliberation. “Do you have something you want to get off your chest, Cora?”
I hate Adrian the stuck-up businessman. I didn’t realize until this moment, now that he’s gone, but the old Adrian, the one I created in my head, always seemed kind of watchful when he was alone with me and the kids. He wasn’t quite nervous, but he didn’t have that commanding persona, either, that he has around other people. It was like he couldn’t quite make the girls and me out, so he treaded very carefully. He moved slowly. Always spoke in a measured, calm voice.
But that was a figment of my imagination, wasn’t it? The real Adrian isn’t curious about us. He wants to fuck the red-haired lady from work and come home to eat dinner with a wife who pretends that she doesn’t know what he’s been doing.
How did I misread things so badly?
“You seem to have something you want to say,” he prompts.
“Nope,” I say and drain my glass again.
His slight frown becomes a mocking ghost of a smile. “Surely, we can be adults about this.”
“Surely,” I agree, grab the bottle, and chug.
The ghost smile disappears.
“How was the children’s day?” he asks, ignoring my guzzling. For some reason, he always asks about their day, not about them, not by name. I always thought it was a rich people thing. Now, it strikes me like a question you’d ask the nanny.
“Twenty-four hours, same as yours.”
“Cora.” There’s a note of warning in his voice. What is he going to do? Ruin my life again?
“Adrian,” I sass back.
He really is unfairly handsome. He has all these features I didn’t even know I found sexy until I met him. I love his neck—the tendons, his Adam’s apple, the ridge of his collarbone. I love his chiseled jaw and how it makes him look so strong and powerful, and how that makes me feel shivery and safe at the same time.
I love his hands, and how even though his nails are trimmed and buffed at a salon, the veins that run from his wrist to his knuckles, and his callouses from rowing, still make him look like a man who can handle himself.
Loved, I guess. Past tense. I look at him, and the dopey, dizzy glow I always felt when he came into a room is totally gone. Like someone flicked off a switch.
I see now that he’s handsome like a villain, the kind they spring on you in the third act, the guy who’s been behind the trouble all along. He’s a Prince Hans.
I set the bottle down with a thump. “Why act like you cared? Why didn’t you tell me this transaction stuff before we got married?”
His left eye twitches the tiniest bit. “Don’t you think it would’ve been gauche to hash it out ourselves? We have lawyers. And it was understood, wasn’t it? You signed the prenup.”
No, I didn’t understand. I was a sucker. And aftereverything I went through growing up—Mrs. Flowers would shake her head at how dumb I’ve been.
I sigh and pick up my fork to poke at the salmon. No, she wouldn’t call me dumb. She was always kind, and she never let you be down on yourself or stay hung up on the negative. She’d say something likeat least you know what love felt like. A lot of people never find out.
My vision blurs. The tears are for her, and it kills me that he might think they’re for him. I widen my eyes and blink until they go away.
A tic appears at the hinge of Adrian’s jaw. He lets out a breath and stands in one fluid motion. “I thought you’d be ready to discuss this like adults. I was obviously mistaken. Perhaps this will go a way toward helping you regain a sense of perspective.”
He drops a key fob next to my plate as he strides out of the room, leaving his plate untouched. He bought me a car. I bet it’s expensive.
