“Did Minh pull this stuff together for you?” I ask as he sits next to us. I got Winnie back on the nipple, and now she’s passed out on the boob.
“He did.” Adrian offers me the marshmallows. I slide one off the stick, careful not to hold it over Winnie’s head. I pop it in my mouth. It’s gooey and delicious.
It takes me a while to swallow and lick the stickiness from my lips. Adrian sits beside me, staring at the fire, holding the stick level so the remaining two marshmallows don’t slide down it.
“You can’t make things right between us by being nice to me, you know.” I don’t say it to be mean. It’s just a fact.
I take another marshmallow before he can get angry and walk away with them. To my surprise, he leans back in his seat and manspreads. His thigh presses mine. I’m suddenly very aware how close we are and that we’re basically alone out here, except for the girls.
“Were things ever really right between us, Cora?” he asks quietly.
What? The urge to scream in his face wells up inside me. Why is he asking me? I thought they were. Ibelieved. I was happier than I knew a person could be on this earth.
But what about the prenup? What about the fact that I’ve been lying to him since I met him? The anger ebbs from my body.
“I guess not,” I mutter.
I figure that’s it. He’s made his point. End of scene. Drop the curtain. But instead, he stretches his arm to rest it on the back of the bench. His hand hovers centimeters above my shoulder.
“I can’t focus on work,” he says, staring at the fire. “My head hurts. Nothing sits right in my stomach. I’m fucking miserable. I can’t sleep without you.”
The words are so unexpected, my brain processes them in a delay, like I’m drunk.
“Sucks to suck. Go sleep with Delaney,” I finally say, not out of spite, but out of self-defense. I’m throwing the first thing that comes to hand. I can’t let what he says matter. I can’t give any air to the little voice in the back of my head, sobbingme neither.
He squares his jaw. “That’s over with.”
I press my mouth shut, trying to curve my shoulders away from his arm while not disturbing Winnie.
“Not on my account,” I say.
“Yes, on your account.”
“What you do—or don’t do—doesn’t impact my life in any way. You said so.”
“Cora—what I said—” He searches for words, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he’s at a loss, and I wish I felt even a little satisfaction, but all I am is cold.
“If you’re bored of Delaney, fuck someone else. Yourprivate life has no bearing on this marriage. It doesn’t affect my day-to-day in any way.” I’m not at a loss. Every horrible word he said that night is right at my fingertips.
He draws in a deep breath. “I regret saying that.”
“I regret that I ever met you.”
“Your pride is hurt.”
“Yes. My pride. That’s all. Because this is a transaction. It’s not like I loved you or anything.”
“Cora, can you honestly say we evenknoweach other?”
No. I can’t.
But I know he wears three deodorants, and which is for which purpose. I know how he smells first thing in the morning, and after a shower, and when he comes home from work. I know the exact location of every mole and freckle on his body. I could map them out on paper.
I’ve learned all the words from his world—sommelier, croupier, valet, amuse-bouche, scull, chukka, concierge, atelier. I know he works with money, and people are intimidated by him, and he’s insanely good at what he does.
I know he was kidnapped when he was a kid, and he still has nightmares, but he never talks about it. I know his mother abandoned the family, and his father couldn’t care less about him, and his brothers are all scary as hell, but I don’t know how he feels about any of it.
What is all that if I don’t know him?
