I shake my head. “It must be physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting being a defense attorney.”
She nods slowly, lifting her drink. “I’m tired of a lot of things these days.” Her statement tumbles out around the rocks glass poised at her mouth.
“Uh-huh,” I mimic her slow nod. I like Carrie enough, but she and I have never hit it off. She’s too busy to have real friends, and I don’t think our personalities mesh.
“You think we need couples therapy, don’t you?”
I feel my mask slipping into place, the one I wear when I’m in the middle of a session. “I think therapy is a good choice when couples are struggling to communicate effectively. An objective third party can be helpful in bridging the gap.”
Carrie maintains eye contact with me for a full three seconds, then blinks and says, “Right.”
She drains the rest of her mixed drink and leans forward, the table pressing into her stomach. A tiny sparkle lights her eyes, and she asks, “If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”
I glance at Gabriel, deep in conversation with Ryan. Sometimes, late at night, we lie awake and imagine our dream vacation. We describe breakfast (exotic tropical fruit) and our activities for the day (snorkeling or lying on a beach chair). Gabriel has supported both of us while I’ve been completing my hours, and there hasn’t been money for luxury vacations. Our only trips over the past two years have been to Palm Springs. I don’t feel like I’ve missed out. Some of our best sex, and even better conversations, have happened there. No exotic fruit plates, though.
To Carrie, I say, “We want to go somewhere in the Virgin Islands. British or US, any island will do. I’m not picky.”
The sparkle in her eyes fades. My reply has fallen short.
“How about you?” I ask quickly, trying to resurrect it.
“Brazil,” she answers immediately. “And I’d go alone.”
I stepout of my heels and use the side of my foot to slide them over on the wood floor. I bend over, rubbing at my instep, and wobble.
Gabriel steadies me, and I hold on to his hip while I finish massaging my aching foot. “This is a good reminder that heels are the devil's work.”
“Your calves look good in them.”
I stand up straight. “Is that your way of asking me not to chuck them into the desert?”
He nods vigorously. I follow him into our bathroom, where I change out of my clothes.
“What a weird night,” Gabriel remarks, toothbrush hanging from the side of his mouth.
“Can we not make that double date a regular thing?” I ask, taking the toothpaste Gabriel offers.
“He’s my best friend,” Gabriel reminds me, as if I need the reminder.
“I know, but”—I stick my toothbrush in my mouth—“he and Carrie have serious issues. And I spend all day listening to couples argue.”
Gabriel spits and rinses. He wipes a hand towel across his mouth and turns, leaning a hip against the counter. “Ryan is going to ask Carrie for a divorce.”
I’m not shocked. I’m not even the least bit surprised. The contempt coming from both individuals was enough to predict this outcome.
I finish brushing my teeth and say, “Only if he beats Carrie to it.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows draw together. “Did she say something?”
“No. I can tell, though. There are signs for this sort of thing.”
Gabriel slips an arm around my lower back and pulls me flush with him. “Oh yeah? Do we have any of those signs?”
My arms go around his shoulders, one hand snaking up into his dark hair as I shake my head. “You and I are part of the precious few.”
There’s a rumble in his chest, almost like a pleased purr. Whatever has touched Ryan and Carrie, will not reach us. I spend enough time listening to couples to know how the implosion begins. There will be no such occurrences with me and Gabriel, because I will always be vigilant. I will be the watchdog of our relationship, the guard.
Speaking of my job. “Joseph asked me to join him in the practice. Make it half mine. Eventually, he’d phase out and retire.”
