As I suspected, Natalie is trouble.
I understand why Matthew was attracted to her—she’s confident and sexy. She’s as different from Marissa as a peacock is from a swan.
The question remains, Is Matthew still attracted to her?
When we met in my office during our first session, Marissa described the slowly developing rift in her marriage. I can’t yet rule out the possibility that Matthew also had an affair—or is still having one—but has chosen to conceal it. The Bishops can’t heal their marriage if one of them is still hiding a big secret.
I gently probe a bit more, but Natalie doesn’t give up any details about her current romantic life. Instead, she asks whether I’m ready to put in an offer.
“It won’t stay on the market long,” she tells me.
I say I need to think about the house, and she hands me a card as we walk out.
As Natalie closes up the lockbox, she cocks her head. “You look familiar. Maybe we’ve crossed paths before. What did you say you do again?”
“Oh”—I glide down the front steps, toward my car—“I must just have one of those faces.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
MARISSA
EARLY MONDAY MORNING, MARISSA HURRIES up the stairs to Pinnacle, her purse bumping against her side. After the rough start to her date with Matthew on Saturday night, the dinner had gone well.
At first she carried most of the conversation, but as the evening wore on, he added a few memories of the early days of their relationship: how he’d appeared at Conner’s the evening after he’d first walked her home, and this time they’d headed down to the beach bonfire. He’d kept his arm around her, so everyone could see they were becoming a couple, and when he’d made a s’more, he offered her the first gooey bite. Marissa recalled how they’d once overturned a canoe as they paddled to a quiet cove on the lake for a picnic, and they both laughed as she described how the sandwiches she’d made had floated on the water. It had been, Marissa thought, far too long since they’d laughed together.
Matthew followed her home, his headlights glowing in her rearview mirror. Hallie had recently gotten her driver’s license and didn’t need a ride, which was a welcome change from previous evenings when she’d babysat. Marissa was grateful the mood didn’t have to be broken by Matthew’s going back out into the cold night again.
Matthew had slept beside her in their bed, and though they hadn’t touched, she’d fallen asleep to the familiar sound of his breathing. On Sunday, Marissa, Matthew, and Bennett had gone to the zoo, watching the giant pandas chew bamboo and spending an hour in the Reptile House—Bennett’s favorite exhibit. Matthew hadn’t checked his phone even once, instead reading the little plaques that described the reptiles and discussing the facts with Bennett. As they’d exited the building, Matthew had opened the door for her and touched the small of her back as she walked through it.
Could Avery really be that good? Marissa had wondered. Two sessions and one date night in, and she and Matthew already seemed to be on the road to recovery.
Avery was worth every bit of her astronomical fee, which Marissa was paying for out of her own earnings. There was no better investment than the health of her marriage.
But last night, Matthew hadn’t come to bed until after Marissa was asleep. And in the sharp light of this Monday morning, Marissa feels off-kilter; it’s as if the magic of the weekend is already evaporating. She received a text from FedEx that the delivery of the hand-painted place settings she’d ordered from Portugal was delayed again, which meant the opinionated, difficult customer who planned to use them for a special dinner party would throw a fit. Then, as she was rushing out the door to get Bennett to school, he informed her that he’d failed his math test and she needed to sign the quiz. Plus one of her favorite bangles, the one with her and Matthew’s initials engraved on the inside, was missing. She’d looked every place she could think of, even between the cushions of the couches and beneath her bed. She’d checked under the seats of her car and shaken out the contents of her purse.
Now Marissa approaches the gym’s front desk. This is the exact time she used to frequent her Pilates class: Mondays and Wednesdays right after she dropped off Bennett and before she went to Coco. She watches as a woman with a towel draped over her neck heads toward the room where the Reformers are located.
Since her confession to Matthew, this is the first time Marissa has entered Pinnacle.
She stands behind a man at the front desk, who is asking for a new plastic tag for his key chain, awaiting her turn.
As the man turns away and Marissa steps forward to scan her own tag and gain access to the facility, she hears, “Hey, Marissa!” It’s the gym manager—a handsome, muscular man in his early thirties. “Haven’t seen you around recently.”
“It’s been crazy busy.” She doesn’t meet his eyes. The scanner doesn’t work. “Come on,” Marissa mutters.
“Sorry!” the front-desk clerk chirps. “The monitor’s been acting weird lately.”
The manager begins to walk over to help. Marissa takes a deep breath and tries again.
“There you go!” the clerk says.
Marissa smiles and rushes past her, tossing a wave to the manager as she hurries toward the women’s changing room. She pays an extra fee to keep a permanent locker there, with her sneakers and toiletries. She inputs the code and her locker door swings open.
She shakes out each sneaker and checks her toiletries bag.
She closes her eyes and breathes a sigh of relief: The bracelet is tucked inside.
She’s slipping it on her wrist when her phone rings. It’s Matthew.
She considers letting it go to voice mail, but it’s so unlike him to call during the workday that she wonders if something’s wrong.
“Hello there.”
“Hey, listen, I forgot what time we’re seeing Avery tonight.”
“It’s in the family calendar. Seven P.M.”
“Oh, yeah, now I remember.” Matthew hesitates. “How’s your day going?”
Is it possible Matthew called merely to hear her voice? It has been years since he’s done that.
She clears her throat. “Good…”
A few feet away, two women begin to talk about the spin class they just took. “That was insane,” the slim redhead says. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”
“Are you at Coco?” Matthew asks.
Does he recall that she goes to Pilates on Monday mornings? He admitted to driving by the gym and wanting to beat up every guy in it. Maybe this is a test.
“Uh, actually I’m at Pinnacle.” She closes her eyes and quickly adds, “I’m canceling my membership.”
She’ll miss her classes and the convenient location, but she needs to put Matthew’s mind at ease.
She waits a beat. “Matthew? Are you still there?”
“Ah … Okay.” Her body sags in relief because his tone is fractionally warmer. “See you at seven.”
* * *
Marissa opens the door to Coco and steps inside. No matter what else is going on in her life, this chic, intimate space feels like a sanctuary. Marissa was involved in every step of its creation, from consulting with the architect who drew up the plans to remodel the rooms—which formerly was an ophthalmologist’s office—to choosing the reclaimed wood to wrap around the trio of beams that bisect the store. The lighting, the layout, the dove-gray paint on the walls—it’s her vision, brought to life.