Jack is crouched beneath the table, batting at Graham’s calf, pretending to be a monster (his favorite game), but Graham ignores him and nods his head as the girl barks out a coarse laugh.
Jealousy pinches my chest, and all of a sudden I’m breathless, but I sidle up to my husband, slide my arm around his waist.
He doesn’t acknowledge me. In fact, he peels my hand off his hip and takes a tiny, imperceptible step away from me.
—
“I HAVEN’T TRIEDthat since college, but maybe I should again,” he’s saying to Brownie Girl, who flashes me an apologetic smile.
“We’re just talking about juicing,” she says to me with forced cheer.
“Oh?” I say dumbly. My neck burns with shame and anger.
“I’m into celery juice at the moment,” Brownie Girl offers. She’s turned her focus solely to me now, backpedaling for flirting with Graham. “It’s super good for your immune system—”
“Maaa!” Jack crawls out from beneath the table, tugs on my sweats, blissfully coming to my rescue. I smile at Brownie Girl and nod, bend down and scoop Jack up.
“Ready?” I say to Graham. “This little tiger needs a nap soon.”
“I’ll just see you back at the house,” Graham says, his eyes not meeting mine.
I stand there for a second, my mouth hanging open, feeling as though I’vebeen slapped. I try and think of something to say, but no words will form, so I turn and bounce Jack on my hip as we head toward the parking lot.
—
BACK AT HOME,I lift a sleeping Jack from his car seat and cradle him to my chest, trying not to wake him as I step through the back door. I ease down the hall and settle him into bed, covering him with just a thin blanket so he won’t stir. I hear the back door open and I sigh, steeling myself for a fight with Graham.
When I walk down the hall, he is in the kitchen, washing the dishes from this morning’s breakfast. His sleeves are rolled up and suds bubble on his forearms. He won’t make eye contact.
I come up beside him, place a hand on his back. He tenses at the touch.
“I’m so sorry about last night,” I sputter. “I drank way too much. I passed out, actually,” I say, casting around for sympathy. “And since it’s out in the woods, I don’t get great cell reception, so I’m on roaming a lot, which drains my battery,” I lie. “I finally found a charger that would work, and that’s when I saw all your texts.”
He jerks open the dishwasher door and turns away from me, silently loading our everyday china into the machine.
Sweat stings my armpits, and my mouth is a box of gravel. I need something to drink. I move away from him, grab a glass, and fill it with water. Take a gulp and set it down. He’s still turned away from me.
“Well, saysomething,” I beg, my voice turning into a shriek.
He twists around, trains his eyes on the floor.
“What am I supposed to say?” he asks, flipping his palms up in exasperation. “I just feel like there’s something you’re not telling me. And if it’s someone else, some other guy, I want to know—”
I grab his face, press my lips to his. I know it’s the only way to defuse the situation. He resists for a second but then his lips go soft and he lets me kiss him long and slow. Eventually, he slides his arms around my waist.
I pull him closer, wind my fingers through his hair. “God, I’m such an idiot.”
He exhales and I feel his whole body sigh against mine.
“I’m sorry, too,” he pants in my ear. “It’s just weird you staying out so late and I’m here alone with Jack. It’s just... my mind ran away last night when I woke up and you weren’t home.”
“No,I’msorry I made you feel that way.” And I am. I hate myself for it. I want to come clean and tell him there is no other man. But I can’t. Because thereissomeone else. Margot. And, of course, I won’t tell him about her because I don’t even understand myself what’s going on.
“I promise never to do that again,” I say instead. “I was out of control. These women are out of control.”
I squeeze his hand and look into his eyes, which have begun to soften.
A grin flickers across his face. “I want you to have fun. You know I’m not uptight—”
