Page 70 of The Awful Truth

They both started laughing, the way two people sharing pillow talk do—quietly and filled with pure bliss only they would know. Winslow tucked his lips between his teeth for a second. “That was awful, wasn’t it? Forget I did that.”

“Oh no, I will never forget that. I will, however, force you to do it as a party trick from now on.”

Winslow laughed, his cheeks feeling warm with slight embarrassment at the idea, before he realized that there would be no more party tricks. No more parties. Just this moment right here. The last one. He closed his eyes, knowing that if he kept them open, they would fill with tears and Miguel would know something was wrong.

He felt Miguel give him a kiss on the forehead. “It’s late. We should get some sleep before we have to wake to whatever fresh hell my boss has planned for us tomorrow.”

“Yes, we should,” Winslow answered, opening his eyes again.

Miguel yawned and lowered his eyelids, snuggling the side of his face into his pillow. “He really is awful, isn’t he?”

“The worst.”

Winslow’s head dipped and he jerked it back up. Time to go. Before the staff woke to prepare for the day. He stood and crossed to the bed, placing a hand ever so gently on Miguel’s head, feeling the warmth that was the love of his life. He wouldn’t bend down to kiss him. He couldn’t risk it. He whispered to him so quietly, there was almost no sound at all. “I love you.”

He walked over to the desk and scrawled a note.

Too hot to sleep. I’m going to try on a chaise by the pool.

— W

Nothing sentimental. Otherwise Miguel would know. He was much smarter than people gave him credit for, but his smarts were of the emotional kind. He left the note on his pillow and made his way to the door, turning back for one last glance. He told himself that Miguel would be all right. It would take time, but not long from now, he would find someone else and begin a new life. A much better one than what he would have had with a dying, soon-to-be-disgraced old man.

4:03 A.M.

MERCY

Mercy stood at the aft of the yacht on the main deck in her nightie and matching silk robe, having gotten up to wander around. She hadn’t gone to sleep yet and she could see in the horizon that the sun would soon be up. The evening’s events had been rolling through her mind. She had to leave him. For the sake of the children. But she couldn’t. Also, for the sake of the children.

A sound from the lower deck interrupted her thoughts. Tipping her upper body over the railing, she saw a figure in the darkness climbing over the railing to the swimming platform. Squinting her eyes, she realized it was Winslow. He stood on the edge in his pajamas, and suddenly she knew what was about to happen.

Running, she made it to the spiral staircase, then rushed down as quickly as her feet would carry her before sprinting to him. As she drew near, she realized he was tying a weight from the gym around his waist with a resistance band.

Stopping herself, she walked quietly toward him and spoke gently. “Winslow, please don’t do this. I’ve already had to watch one man die. Please don’t make me do it again.”

He froze on the spot. Without turning, he said, “Go back to bed then. You can pretend this was all a dream.”

She climbed over the railing and moved slowly to him until she could reach out and touch his arm. “I’m afraid that won’t work unless you’re at breakfast in the morning.”

“I won’t be.” He let out a sigh and turned to face her. “Please, Mercy. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want Miguel to know.”

“Of course he’ll know.”

“He’ll think I fell,” he answered. “Let’s let him believe that, all right?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not going to do that to him. He’ll wait. He’ll wonder. He’ll look for you everywhere he goes for the rest of his life—restaurants and in passing cars and shop windows.”

A flash of Miguel peering at him for the first time through the store window in Barcelona ripped through Winslow’s brain and he broke down, sobbing and collapsing onto the deck. Mercy crouched and wrapped her arms around him, shushing him. “It’ll be okay. Whatever it is, you two can make it through.”

He let out a loud sob. “No, we won’t.”

“This isn’t because he was lying to you about the show, is it?”

Winslow’s head snapped back. “No. Of course not. It’s so much worse.”

“What? Did you cheat on him?”

Shaking his head, he said, “I’d rather not talk about it.”