“I’m sure,” I said, leaving no room for discussion.
Once Eunice had taken what she came in the kitchen for out to the party, Scarlett pulled away from me, going straight to the cabinets. Making enough noise to start a band, she snatched a pan, utensils, and all of the ingredients she’d need to make me a “proper” dinner.
“Baby,” I said. “I’m really no—”
She gave me a look that was lethal. I moved to stand to the side of her, against the counter, so I could watch her work. The pan came down on the stove with a loudclang!The stove clicked and then caught, coming up in an angrywhooshof flames. The butter sizzled.
I crossed my arms over my chest, one foot over the other. “It is her job,” I said, not wanting to argue, but wanting her to see reason. “We asked her to—”
“I know what we asked her to do,” she snapped. “ButI’myour wife.”
I became Mitch, floating in a lax abyss. “And?”
“It’smyjob to take care of you.”
“You do—”
“No,” she muttered, sticking the bread in the pan of melted butter. “Not like I’m supposed to.”
“You have a demanding career. It’s not always going to be like this, Scarlett.”
She gave me a look, opened her mouth to respond, but then shook her head and went back to cooking.
I couldn’t make her say the words or discuss what she wanted to admit but somehow couldn’t. Scarlett’s career was demanding. Just when we thought she would hit her peak, the bar would rise and she’d hit it again. But we had no children, no real obligations, and I was free to follow her to the world’s end if necessary.
I had made smart investments thanks to Rocco. We both had invested and funded a treasure-hunt expedition through a man—Captain O’Malley—I had saved from drowning in the Bering Sea during my days as a rescue diver in the Coast Guard.
It had been lucrative.
After that, I continued to make investments that paid off. I also dived on the side, mostly spending my time finding bodies in the water, in the harshest conditions, because I was the best at what I did. Rescue and retrieve, whether alive or dead.
Life felt settled to me. Apparently, Scarlett felt something else. She refused to outright share her feelings and thoughts though—instead, she dropped hints, allowing me a glimpse at the truth she wasn’t ready to set on the table.
She became quiet as she finished up. Laughter still rang from the other room, mingling with the sound of skateboard wheels and balls rolling across the floor.
“You are my wife,” I said, touching her arm. I was a beast compared to her small stature. “In every sense of the word. You take care of me. Every day of my life.”
I never had that before you. I never knew what security felt like before you.I kept those thoughts and feelings locked up tight. I couldn’t admit them aloud. They were vital, too much a part of me, like my heart, and life could be fucking cruel. Maybe fate would hear and take them away from me.
She slid the sandwich onto a plate and placed two fried eggs on top. Half of the plate was in my hand, the other half in hers, and our eyes connected.
“Tell that to my heart,” she said.
“I just did.”
No, my wife was just as action-oriented as I was.Actions speak louder than wordswas our shared motto. It was her perception of things that screwed with what she thought compared to the reality of the situation.
We said no more after that as I ate in the silence we had created.
* * *
I tapped Mitch on the shoulder with a whiskey neat. He sat outside on the stoop of our brownstone, his eyes fixed on the street. Snow purled around him and collected in the dip of his hat, along his shoulders, and on his lashes.
Everyone else had gone home. Scarlett had fallen asleep. He lingered.
He looked up at me and took the glass with thanks. I took a seat next to him, setting down the bottle. I lifted my glass, we clanked, downed them, and then I poured two more.
He sighed. “What’s wrong with the kid?”
