And what does he mean bywhat do I need? I don’t need anything. Our staff buys all the essentials, and I have a black credit card if I want something for myself. He says it has no limit, but my mind can’t fathom that—it’s unsettling—so I set myself a budget of five hundred dollars per month for me and two thousand for the kids. I hardly ever spend it all.
“You can drop the pretense. You came here to force a confrontation, and you’ve succeeded. You’ve embarrassedour people, dragged the children out of their beds and disrupted their routine. So, what is the issue? You have my attention. What is it that you want?” His voice is as smooth and cold as the frozen Hudson.
Itsoundslike gaslighting—from anyone else it would be gaslighting—but I think he’s serious. He’s talking to me like he talks to the people he works with.
Usually, people are most themselves at home, and they put on a mask for everyone else, but I’ve always thought, since the day I met Adrian, that he’s most himself at work. He’s comfortable giving orders and receiving reports, he thrives negotiating and outsmarting his competition, but he’s awkward as hell hanging around the house with his family.
That’s one of the reasons I love him. He treats the kids and me like exotic pets that he’s dedicated himself to care for, but he’s also wary of us, although he tries to play it off. I thought we were teaching him how to be loved, since he came from such a bad home.
But maybe it wasn’t awkward for him. Maybe he was bored. Maybe he hated it.
“I don’t understand,” I say carefully.
He scoffs, but in a classy way, like a man who’s hashing out a deal. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” I meet his eyes and keep my body absolutely still. I understand already that he doesn’t love me. I knew that the second I saw those red soles, and it’s sunk in enough now that it’s frozen my bones. But what I need to know, desperately, is how wrong I’ve been. How deep is the hole I’ve dug for myself?
“Cora, obviously, you heard Delaney on the phone. You suspected what you would be walking into. This is the situation you facilitated. You tell me what needs to happen to make this go away.”
“Ididn’tknow,” I argue.
I heard music and a woman calling his name, but I didn’tknowanything. I was afraid, so I came to him because, apparently, the habit of a lifetimecanbe erased in five short years, and instead of assuming the worst and planning accordingly, I believed that I’d see him and all my worries would be unfounded.
Because I’m stupid. Unforgivably stupid.
He levels me with the gaze he uses with the men we run into at galas and fancy restaurants, the ones rich enough to approach him with impunity and make veiled taunts that make his jaw twitch. His competitors.
“Let’s drop the pretense. It’s just you and me here. You heard Delaney, and you saw an opportunity and took it. I don’t fault you. We all have to look after ourselves.”
I know that—better than he does, I bet—but I’d forgotten. He’dmademe forget. “I don’t want anything.” Nothing he can give me now. “Why did you do it? Are you bored with me?”
A brief flash of annoyance crosses his face, but it’s gone in a blink. He considers me for a few seconds with that reptilian coolness. “Cora, when I met you, you were a twenty-one-year-old, glorified babysitter. You’d never even taken a college-level course. You could not possibly have believed this was love at first sight.”
I’ve been beaten before, jumped, casually smacked around. I know how to take a hit. You can’t tense up; you have to give. You can do it in your brain, too. You snatch away all the things in the path of the words—what you wanted, what you hoped, all the things you thought were true. You sweep them away and let the words land on blank space. I’m very good at it.
I haven’t really had to do it since I got to New York, but it’s like riding a bicycle. You don’t forget.
Adrian keeps speaking, and I hear him, but the words are gnats splatting on the windshield.
“This has always been a transaction.” He gestures between us. “All relationships are transactional. I give you an easy life, and you give me children. Anything else is outside the scope of your concern. My private life has no bearing on this marriage. It doesn’t affect your day-to-day in any way.” He leans forward, his eyes somehow sharpening. “But hear me when I say that I expect you to negotiate on even terms. If you want something, come to me. I will not tolerate you using the children as leverage.”
I didn’tusethe children. But I could have left them home. Ishouldhave. It was late. But I was scared, and I didn’t want to come here alone because that would mean I had a real reason to be worried. I shouldn’t have brought them. I swore when I had Pearl that I’d never let a bad thing touch her.
“I’d never hurt the children,” I mutter to my lap. I can’t look at him anymore. I can’t be here.
“I didn’t say you would.” He’s quiet for a moment and then sighs. “The past several years have been a nice interlude, but I think this is actually for the best. It’s better to deal plainly with each other. You married me so that I’d take care of you.” He speeds up like he’s cutting off an objection, but I’m not saying anything. I’m staring at the perfectly smooth fabric of my wool slacks. “I don’t fault you. I know that your life growing up must’ve been beyond difficult. But we don’t need to keep up the pretense anymore that this is more than what it is.”
“What is it?”
“Well, some would say it’s a very traditional marriage.” A note of wry amusement enters his voice. I want to reach into his throat, grab his esophagus, wrap it around my wrist, andyank it out like a rip cord. I can see myself doing it in my mind, as clear as day.
Oh, shit.
I’m in trouble.
“You can be assured that I don’t have affairs,” he continues. “There will be no rumors online or embarrassing pictures.”
“Having sex with another woman isn’t an affair?”
