“Maybe, but she didn’t tell me anything about you and Greg trying and her thoughts on that. Or about her own thoughts on sex with me,” he said as if defending himself.
“Well, did you ask her?”
“Did I ask her if you and Greg were trying? No I haven’t learned to read other people’s minds yet, sorry,” he said defensively.
“I mean, did you ask how she felt every time a month went by, and you guys still weren’t pregnant? You never once thought she might want to take a break from that disappointment?” I accused him. I blamed him of all of this— of making me question my husband, my best friend of over 15 years, of making me waste $800 on a stupid private investigator named Gus.
“Yea sure, trying. But not having sex with her husband. What does one thing have to do with the other?”
I groaned and stood up. “Men are idiots,” I proclaimed, and then mentally excused my wonderful husband from that statement. Not that he hasn’t done idiotic things in the past, but at that moment he was a saint in my eyes. I just wanted to go home, forget the past week, and worship him.
I left the restaurant, jumped in my car, blasted the radio, and sped to the house eager to see Greg. Unfortunately, he wasn’t home. I saw he had texted me to say he was going to the office for a couple of hours to finish up the last of the paperwork before our trip the next day.
While I had made my decision last night of what to do if Greg was cheating on me, I had packed my suitcase for the Virgin Islands. No matter which way I decided, I was going on that trip. I was safe to say now that if Gus had told me they were having an affair, I would have left Greg forever. St. Thomas was just going to be my first stop on the way out. But now that I had learned it was not as we feared, I felt uber guilty about all the snooping around. Not only that— I hired a private investigator! How pathetic! How could I not trust my husband?
Greg’s suitcase was packed in less than 15 minutes, and I stood it next to mine by the front door. We would throw all the last-minute things into a small separate carry-on bag. I was absolutely in need of this vacation. I went to the bathroom to shave all the places that need to be shaved when you will be seen in a bikini and then made a delicious Italian dinner. When Greg walked in the door, I jumped on him, nearly unsteadying him. I gave him kisses all over his face, and he responded in return.
“How was Chicago?” I asked after he’d put me down.
“Great city, but I didn’t have time to enjoy it. It was meeting after meeting. How were you here?”
“I missed you,” I said, smiling my best wifely smile.
“I missed you too,” he said, kissing me softly. Then he sniffed, “Is that dinner I smell?”
“Yes. Go change, and we’ll eat.”
The next morning was a mad dash around the house getting everything together— phone chargers, cash, sunglasses, sunscreen, hats— everything you need for a beach vacation. Next thing you know we were setting the house alarm and on our way to lovely St. Thomas. But first, we were picking up Nat and Harvey. I was curious to see how Harvey would behave, but honestly, I wished they weren’t coming. I’d much rather not still be hiding stuff from my husband, and the fact that I was would inevitably pop up in my mind whenever Harvey was around. Plus I’d been wishing awful things about Natalie, and now I had to make it up to her somehow without her realizing why.
“Are you guys ready?” Natalie shouted into the car as she slid into the backseat. “Drinks on the beach! Tanning all day! I’m overdue for some sun.”
I laughed, and Harvey put his arm around Nat, giving her a small hug, and I tried to avoid eye contact with him. Greg responded by putting island music on, and we cheesily jammed to Beach Boys “Cocomo”.
The flight wasuneventful until we were suddenly over the most unrealistic sight I’d ever beheld. Turquoise and then aquamarine waters surrounded green islands, and I had my nose pressed to the airplane window watching the beauty unfold beneath me.
We landed, and it was off to the hotel, a sprawling resort on the cliffs with a private beach you had to take a shuttle down to. By the time we unpacked and walked around the hotel, we were hungry. There was a small poolside café where we had sandwiches and fruity drinks. Well, mine were non-alcoholic, but I didn’t mind. The last thing I wanted was to get drunk again off of one cocktail.
The four of us spent the rest of the day drifting from the beach to the pool and back to the beach. I applied almost an entire tube of sunscreen throughout the day, trying to protect my fair skin. Greg refused to put any on, and I struggled not to laugh when we got back to the room. His chest was bright red, but I decided not to tease him about it. I was still punishing myself for not having trusted him and giving him an “I told you so” would not make me feel any better. Not that I should feel better. I was confused and considered telling Greg about the whole thing— just coming clean and being honest with him should help us both grow closer, right? Or was it to lessen these feelings of guilt?
We were getting ready for dinner, and I had just gotten in the shower, when Greg opened the bathroom door to tell me he was going downstairs to see if they sold aloe vera in the small hotel shop. I again tried to hold back my laughter. If he would have just listened one of the ten times I asked him to please put on some sunscreen, then he wouldn’t be in pain right now. He was going to have a nasty peeling situation in a few days, and this was just our first day in the sun. I showered quickly and put mousse in my hair, leaving it to air dry. I applied face moisturizer, added a bit of lip balm and mascara, and was all ready to go. Five minutes later, and Greg was still not back. I dialed Natalie’s room to see if they were ready.
“Hello?” Harvey answered.
“Hey, are you guys ready?” I asked.
“Um, I am almost done. I fell asleep and just woke up a few minutes ago.”
“Is Natalie ready?”
“She went to the shop downstairs to get something that she forgot at home,” he said.
“She should have asked me. I’m pretty sure I’ve brought my whole bathroom with me,” I said. My entire carry-on was filled with makeup, medicines (just in case someone has an allergic reaction, diarrhea, or gets the flu— you never know), my hair products and special shampoo/conditioner for curly hair, and a few other things.
“You and Greg are ready?” he asked.
“Yeah, except I’m sitting here waiting for Greg. He’s at the shop too getting some aloe, but he’s taking a while.” For a split second, I had the familiar suspicions creep up on me again, but I quickly squashed them.
“Well, I’m gonna finish up here. We’ll call you when we’re done.”
