The last thing Marissa wants is to be left alone with her husband and his old friend.
The one I’m now certain she betrayed Matthew with.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MARISSA
MARISSA FEELS AS IF she is struggling through a swamp; the air around her is heavy and oppressive, and her limbs are leaden.
She knew something horrible would happen tonight. And it has.
First Avery confronted her outside her home demanding to talk. And then when she pulled open the door, there stood Skip. Skip, whom she wasn’t supposed to see until Monday, when Avery would provide her with the magical elixir to fix everything.
Skip’s presence in her house—beside her on the couch, close enough for her to smell his aftershave—is almost too much for her to bear.
Does Matthew suspect?
She steals a glance at her husband, who is telling a joke about politicians, gesturing with both hands and smiling broadly. This is their home. They created it together, not only with bricks and mortar, but by building layers of memories. They chart Bennett’s growth on the door of his closet in different-colored markers every year. They play board games, assemble puzzles, and watch movies in this very room; they’ve shared tears and hurt feelings and hugs.
All the work they have done to create and repair not just their marriage, but their family, will be shattered in an instant if Matthew knows.
She feels the heat of Skip’s gaze on her again. He’s acting so strangely. Why did he follow her into the kitchen and insist on carrying out the pitcher? Matthew had said Skip was a surprise guest. Why in the world would he pop by without an invitation?
I know I shouldn’t say this, but I can’t stop thinking about our night.
She blinks hard, and the image of those printed words disappears, only to be replaced by these: I’m not letting you go so easily.
She tries to track the relaxed banter, but her mind is churning.
She takes a sip of water as Matthew tells the punch line and Avery and Skip laugh; Marissa has missed another beat.
She watches Matthew lift his glass of wine and drink from it. Skip must have brought the same Argentinean Malbec over as he had the night she slept with him; she recognized the label when Matthew offered it to her.
Why won’t Skip just leave them alone?
Her gaze drifts to the coffee table, where three children’s games are stacked up. Pictionary, Scattergories, and a card game.
Truth or Dare for kids! Reads the description on the box. Pretend to be a dog! Do you believe in ghosts? Do a crazy dance!
Marissa’s body is trembling. She can’t be here for another minute; she has to get Skip and Avery out of her house, now. At last there is a break in the conversation and she fakes a yawn.
It’s unlike her husband to miss a cue such as this; normally Matthew would find a way to gracefully end the evening. But he merely leans forward and grabs another handful of nuts.
Avery takes the bait and stands. She looks from Matthew to Skip and then to Marissa. She hesitates for a moment.
Marissa’s throat thickens; she swallows back the surge of nausea. Don’t leave me alone with them! she wants to cry out.
Matthew begins to rise. He is a chivalrous host, of course he will show Avery out. And Marissa will be left alone with Skip.
But before Matthew can get to his feet, Avery says, “Actually, Marissa, can we chat for a second?”
Marissa nods and follows Avery into the entryway. She has no idea what Avery wants from her. Why did she drop by tonight uninvited?
Before Marissa can say a word, Avery begins, “When I leave, tell Matthew and Skip you don’t feel well. That you are having some sort of reaction to the oil the masseuse used. That you need to excuse yourself. And then go directly upstairs.”
“But what about Bennett? What about dinner?”
“Marissa, your husband is a capable man. He’ll figure it out. Besides, once Skip leaves, you will have a miraculous recovery and can recapture your family night.”
Marissa nods. “Okay.”
Avery leans in closer, her voice a whisper. “I know he’s the guy.”
Marissa rears back. Is it that obvious?
Avery looks directly into Marissa’s eyes, seeming to take measure of her. Does Avery suspect what else Marissa is hiding?
“I’ll need to see you tomorrow for another session.”
Marissa swallows hard and nods. “Of course. I can make myself available whenever you’d like.”
Avery nods crisply, as if that were a given. Marissa feels a rush of relief; Avery not only showed up at the best possible moment—almost as if she intuited how desperately she would be needed—but she has also provided Marissa with an out tonight.
Avery points toward the family room, where the two men await. “Now go.”
* * *
Marissa leans her head back against the hard porcelain tub, wishing the hot water would melt the coldness inside her. Downstairs, Matthew and Skip are probably still chatting, and she has no idea what Skip’s agenda is in showing up here tonight. He’d said he would be in LA until Friday evening, so he must have come straight here from the airport.
Regardless, they had an agreement—to see each other on Monday at the coffee shop. Why would he change that plan without telling her?
Matthew had said he’d put a frozen pizza in the oven for Bennett for dinner, which means he’ll need to leave the living room to heat up the oven and pop in the pie, then again to take it out and call Bennett down to dinner. Those interruptions to his conversation with Skip might finally prompt Skip to leave.
Marissa uses her toes to turn the tap down to a trickle and sinks lower into the water. The anonymous bouquet, the ominous note, Skip’s uninvited appearance tonight … none of it seems true to character.
These actions, taken together and under the circumstances, feel almost malicious, designed to inflict distress. While Skip would never be called a saint, in all the years she has known him—since she was seven and Skip was nine!—she can’t think of a single time he acted deliberately cruelly. The only hurtful instance she can recall occurred when he seemingly rejected her after their kiss, during the summer that seemed to be on all of their minds tonight.
Now that Avery knows the truth about Skip, Marissa can finally tell her the full story about the summer she kissed Skip but ended up as Matthew’s girl.
Marissa closes her eyes, getting the narrative straight in her head. The details remain so vivid that the scenes spring forward, fully formed.
The rhythms of that season had shifted: Her parents deemed her old enough to close up Conner’s, so several nights a week Marissa ate dinner early at the kitchen table, then went to relieve her father. After she locked up the store, she would sometimes wander down to the shore to meet up with the other teens.
The night she saw Skip with new eyes began as just another warm, languid evening. The moon was tucked behind clouds, so she used the small flashlight on her key chain to make her way down to the water, her flip-flops squeaking slightly with every step. Once she got closer to the beach, the light of the bonfire helped guide her, and she could hear the Red Hot Chili Peppers blaring from a boom box.
There was often alcohol—pilfered from parents’ liquor cabinets or bought from the bored clerk at the Stop ’n Save—and sometimes a little pot, too. Marissa occasionally sipped a wine cooler, but never drank more than one.