I smile. “I’m not sure I would phrase it that way exactly.”
Marissa becomes an unexpected ally: “Matthew,” she says pleadingly.
He shakes his head and blows out a breath. “Fine. Yes, as I said at first, I wasn’t sure I had it in me.”
“And then…,” I prompt.
The pause he doesn’t rush to fill means he’s considering what to say next. Which might also mean he’s debating whether to answer honestly.
People tend to extend more trust to individuals who are attractive; studies have proven this. Right now, as I take in Matthew’s athletic body, classic features, and straight white teeth, I wonder how much he has benefited from this advantage. It’s one that his wife must also enjoy.
“And then I decided to meet Marissa, and when I arrived at the restaurant, I got a work call, which further delayed me. I had to stand outside and talk to one of my partners for a few minutes.”
Matthew could be covering himself while appearing to be forthcoming. He’s an intelligent man. He probably deduced that I wouldn’t be observing from a table or booth inside the restaurant because of the risk I’d be spotted, plus there was no guarantee I’d be seated near them. Therefore, he must suspect I’d been watching from outside—which meant I already knew about the phone call.
Not just intelligent, I think. He’s sharp. A man who sees all the angles and can think quickly on his feet.
“A work call on a Saturday night,” I say mildly. “Must have been important.”
“It was.” Matthew bites off the words.
Is he angry at me, or is it simply the call itself that’s causing his abrupt tone?
“Is this about the Coleman account?”
At Marissa’s abrupt question, Matthew’s eyes widen.
Interesting, I think as I watch his body language. He didn’t know she knew.
Marissa has blindsided him again.
Matthew is getting hit with a lot of surprises—first by me, and now his wife—but to his credit, he merely shakes his head no.
Marissa isn’t ready to let it go, however. “I ran into Natalie the other day and she mentioned you lost the client.”
Natalie, again. Why does Matthew’s ex-girlfriend know more about his business troubles than his own wife?
Matthew inhales deeply. “Yes, we lost the account. But it’s not that bad—we’re looking to land two more clients this month.”
It’s important to see how a couple argue—do they fight fair, or are they more focused on being “right” than working through the issue? Does one withdraw while the other flares up (my bet is that Marissa does the former while Matthew does the latter)?
So I turn things up a notch again.
“Marissa, Natalie knew about this before you?” I wince. “Ouch.”
Marissa folds her arms across her body. “I just feel like Matthew has been shutting me out. We haven’t been close in—well, in a while. Yes, I admit it hurts that he confided in Natalie.” Marissa’s perfectly poised, even in the midst of her anger and pain.
“I didn’t tell her.” Matthew looks at me, then turns toward his wife.
“So who did?” I probe.
Matthew shrugs. “I have no idea. She probably heard it from one of her clients. Natalie likes to gossip.”
Marissa’s face softens.
I speak before she has the chance. “Matthew, why would one of Natalie’s clients tell her about your business?”
A beat of silence.
“She’s right, Matthew, that doesn’t make sense,” Marissa says slowly. Her eyes glitter, but before I can determine whether it’s from anger or tears, she blinks and the moment is gone.
“I don’t know. There was an item in the trades—maybe she read it.” He pauses. “Or look—honestly?—maybe it did slip out when I bumped into her a few weeks ago at that school thing.”
“International Night?” Marissa interjects.
Matthew nods. “I can’t remember any reason why it would have come up. But, come on, let’s get real. Even if I told Natalie, that hardly compares to Marissa cheating on me.”
His zinger lands; she shrinks a bit in her seat.
Given that the betrayal is still fresh in his mind, I can’t expect Matthew to fight fair.
Still, he has proven that he comports himself fairly well under pressure. Now it’s Marissa’s turn.
“True,” I muse. “Even if Matthew did confide in Natalie—even if he goes out to lunch with her later this week and flirts with her and relishes the memory of what she was like in bed—it wouldn’t come close to the way you betrayed him.”
Marissa’s lips press tightly together.
“Do you think Natalie still wants you, Matthew?” I ask.
He smiles. He likes the question.
“Of course she wants him.” Marissa’s color is high; we’ve hit a nerve. “She never stopped wanting him.”
“She’s single, right?” I ask.
Matthew frowns. “How did you know that?”
“Just a hunch,” I say lightly.
“We set her up with one of our friends last summer, but it didn’t go anywhere,” Matthew replies. “I don’t think she was that into him.”
“Because she’s into you,” Marissa says sharply.
Matthew rolls his eyes at his wife.
Over a decade of marriage, and he hasn’t learned that an eye roll practically guarantees a marital fight? Maybe he’s spoiling for one.
“Natalie still wants Matthew? How can you tell?” I urge Marissa on.
“We had dinner together after we fixed her up—the four of us. But it was like Matthew was the only one at the table. It’s always like that with her.”
“Come on, Marissa. That’s ridiculous.”
They’re on the cusp. Then Marissa gathers herself.
“I admit it; I’m a little jealous.… And, yes, Matthew is perfectly free to have lunch with whomever he wants.” Marissa bows her head. “I know we’re not here because of Natalie.”
It’s as if she took a pin and popped a balloon; the swelling pressure in the room immediately evaporates.
“Marissa, I’ve never given her any reason to think she has a chance with me.” The annoyance is gone from Matthew’s tone.
“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m having an issue at work myself, and I’m a bit out of sorts.”
Matthew claims Marissa’s hand again. “What is it?”
“Polly”—Marissa glances at me—“she’s my new assistant, and I’m thinking about letting her go.”
I casually lift my pen and write down the name.
“What? I thought she was doing a great job.”
“It’s complicated.” Marissa’s fingers are moving; she’s gently massaging Matthew’s hand. “We can talk more about it later. I’d love your advice, actually.”
Well done, I think, watching Marissa smile at her husband. Marissa defused their fight and owned her issues. She snatched her husband back, luring him away from the tantalizing words I dangled about his imagining Natalie in bed.
She was almost too perfect.