I straighten the toys, weed through Winnie’s clothes for onesies she’s outgrown, and watch out the window for Adrian to leave for work. He doesn’t. Eventually, I give up, collapse in my nursing chair, and watch dudes drive trucks in the snow.
By the time we have lunch, I can’t stand being stuck in this room anymore. I get the girls bundled up and take themoutside to play. It’s November in Connecticut, so it’s brisk, but not unpleasant yet. The sun is bright, and the leaves are magnificent.
Pearl is giddy. She runs ahead, straight through the formal gardens, making a beeline for her playset. It’s a doozy, built to look like a fairy tale castle with two turrets and a swinging bridge between them. Every side has different features—a slide, a climbing wall, fireman poles, a ladder. It’s really made for a slightly older child, but Pearl is a very cautious kid, and she never pushes the limits I set.
It would’ve blown my mind to have a playset like this all to myself. Pearl is unfazed. It’s her normal. It doesn’t make her act spoiled, either. She loves inviting kids we meet at story hour or the park over to play, and she’s such a generous little hostess. Sharing makes it more fun for her. She never worries that she won’t have enough or that what she has will be taken away.
Adrian makes that possible. And me, I guess, because I chose a rich man to convince myself that I loved.
We’re at the castle less than five minutes when Pearl screeches, “Daddy!”
She’s up in a turret, pointing toward the house. I’m sitting on a wrought iron bench with a sleeping Winnie in her carrier. I twist my head. Adrian is making his way through the formal gardens toward us, wearing a brown suede jacket and jeans and carrying a cooler.
I’ve always loved his outdoorsy look. Even with the new shadows under his eyes, and the tightness in his jaw, he’s the most stunning man I’ve ever seen. A stranger would see a perfectly unbothered, movie star of a man. The fact feels like a slap.
I slept eight hours, five of them in a row, and my eyes are bloodshot, my hair is dull and flat, and my cuticles are shredded from picking.
“Mommy!” Pearl hollers. “It’s Daddy!”
My teeth clench.
Pearl hurries down from her tower with the exaggerated steps she uses to show that she isnotrunning, even though she’s totally running.
Adrian arrives, setting the cooler down next to me on the bench, and stands like an outfielder, waiting to catch Pearl when she throws herself into his arms.
“What are you doing here, Daddy?”
Probably checking up on me.
“I brought lunch. I thought you girls might be hungry.”
“I’mstarving.” She literally just ate a turkey roll-up, an apple, and a bag of goldfish before we came outside. I get it, though. As soon as I saw him, my heart sped up, too. He’s never home during a weekday, and he never, ever comes out to play with us. Family time is scheduled, and we have to drive somewhere to do it.
Adrian walks over to me with Pearl on his hip. “Are you hungry, Cora?”
He’s smiling—smirking—like this is normal, like nothing happened yesterday, like we haven’t been in a cold war for days, that I didn’t see him fuck another woman before he told me that our marriage was a farce that I couldn’t possibly have been stupid enough to believe was real.
Hot anger rushes over my skin, from my thumping heart, down my arms and legs to my cold-numbed toes and fingertips.
Winnie lets out one of her indignant squeals that she does when she’s waking up. I place my hands protectively on her back. She cranes her neck to see what’s going on, one eye still stuck shut.
“We ate before we came out,” I answer because the girlsare listening. It’s a slight lie. Pearl and Winnie ate. I don’t have much of a stomach lately.
“Well, I’m sure you have room for dessert, especially after playing so hard.”
“We’ve been playingso hard.” Pearl straight lies, too.
“Then it’s definitely time for dessert.”
“We’ve only been out here a few minutes,” I say, surly. Adrian and Pearl smile into each other’s faces. I feel left out and at fault and wrong-footed.
“What did you bring?” Pearl demands.
“I thought we could make s’mores. You like s’mores, right?”
“Yes!” Pearl shouts, right into his ear. He can’t help but wince. Ha. “What’s s’mores?”
“Toasted marshmallow and chocolate between two graham crackers.” Adrian turns his smile at me, a sly light in his eye.
