Skip opens his mouth, but before he can reply, the waiter moves to our end of the counter and tells Skip his order will be ready soon. “Sorry for the delay, the kitchen’s really backed up tonight.”
When the waiter moves away, Skip leans closer to me. “Look, you were asking about the summer when Matthew said he fell in love with Marissa. But I loved her first. I was her first kiss—did she ever tell you that?”
I shake my head. I’m beginning to feel sorry for him.
“There’s always been something between me and Marissa.”
That makes me sit up straighter. “So that wasn’t the first time you slept together?”
“No, no, it was. Just that once. I meant that—”
“That you’ve always loved her.” Skip, the man who has never married and may have difficulties with intimacy, given that I don’t know of any long-term relationships he has had. He only went out with Natalie once, and even though I felt a connection to him and thought it might turn into something more, it was fleeting.
“I just want what’s best for her. And Matthew isn’t it.”
“You need to let this go, Skip. Don’t send Marissa flowers or call her again. And for God’s sake, don’t leave her anonymous notes.”
“I don’t—”
Skip cuts himself off as the waiter comes over again, this time holding four to-go bowls. He sets them on the counter in front of Skip, then begins stacking them in a paper bag with Gabe’s logo on the front. “Want saltines?”
Skip thinks for a second, then nods. “Please.”
The waiter sticks several little packets into the bag.
“Actually, do you have any extra?”
“Sure.” The waiter adds another handful. “Anything else?”
“That’ll do it, thanks.”
“Careful, the soup’s pretty hot.”
I look at the bag. “Four bowls of soup?”
Skip nods. “Yeah. Marissa doesn’t feel well. I’m bringing them back for her.”
The roses, the note, the phone calls, and now this? Skip isn’t in love. He’s obsessed. He glances at the bill the waiter has left on the counter and pulls out two twenties, leaving them beneath his water glass.
“Skip, don’t you think Matthew is capable of taking care of his wife? He doesn’t need you to be the delivery boy.”
Skip flinches. He doesn’t react with anger, though. He looks at me levelly: “Did you notice how tired Marissa looked? Matthew didn’t even care that she was going to carry that heavy water pitcher or go upstairs without dinner. She can’t skip meals like that.”
His demeanor is at odds with his words; Skip is acting as if it were perfectly natural for him to be the primary person looking out for Marissa’s well-being.
Skip reaches for the handle of the bag. “When Marissa was pregnant with Bennett, the only thing she could keep down was Gabe’s chicken noodle soup.” It’s such a specific detail. How many other nuances of Marissa’s life has he cataloged through the years?
Now that Skip has Marissa’s dinner in hand, I’m going to lose him. He’s like a missile, being guided straight back to her. I wonder if he’ll leave the soup on the doorstep or ring the bell and try to go inside again.
How long until Matthew catches on? I wonder.
My plan for the Monday meeting at the coffee shop won’t work now; there isn’t anything Marissa will be able to say to convince Skip to let this go. He wants Marissa for himself—by his own admission, he has wanted her for twenty-five years—and based on his actions tonight, he isn’t going to stop.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts that it takes me a moment to process the layered meaning of Skip’s words:… when Marissa was pregnant with Bennett.
“Skip, you don’t think Marissa is pregnant—”
“Yes, I do.” He stands up, his expression resolute. “And I’m almost positive it’s my baby.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
MARISSA
MARISSA SCANS THE GROUP gathered at North Chevy Chase Park, searching for a familiar face. Matthew would hate this, Marissa thinks as one of the boys in Bennett’s Cub Scout troop, wielding a stick like a spear, runs past her through a muddy puddle, screaming, “Ka-ya!”
Or at least the old Matthew would have. Maybe the new one, who’d played Scattergories with her and Bennett for two hours last night and woke up early to make Bennett “Daddy pancakes” (substituting M&M’s for Marissa’s usual berries and chia seeds), wouldn’t have minded at all.
After Skip finally left their home and Marissa rejoined her family, it was as if the world tipped back onto its correct axis. Though Marissa still felt unmoored and shaky, Matthew and Bennett were filled with stories about their rocket launches, including Bennett’s excited description of Matthew hoisting Bennett “twenty feet high!” into a tree to retrieve the toy when it got stuck. By the time they’d all gathered around the game, Marissa had felt calm enough to nibble a slice of pizza and join in the laughter.
The only off note came when Skip sent a group text to Matthew and Marissa to let them know he’d left some chicken soup on their doorstep for Marissa.
The gesture seemed completely over-the-top, but Matthew merely read the message, then looked at Marissa and shrugged. “That’s nice of him. Guess he was worried you were really sick.” Then he’d wrapped an arm around Marissa and pulled her closer.
This morning Matthew had seemed genuinely disappointed to miss the prep for the great outdoors event, but a crisis had erupted at the office and he needed to go in for a couple of hours.
That wasn’t unusual; Matthew often worked on weekends. What was different was his promise to make it up to them.
“I’m all yours as soon as I get back,” he’d said as he shrugged on his coat. She’d glanced at Bennett, then followed Matthew into the garage, hesitating as she carefully chose her next words: “Would it be okay with you if I invited Chris to the Cub Scout thing?”
The event, with its focus on tent building and wood whittling, would be the perfect bonding opportunity for her handy father-in-law and his grandson. Plus it would be nice for Bennett to have a male relative there, since so many boys came with their fathers.
“Bennett hasn’t seen him since they went to see that last Spider-Man movie,” she’d continued.
Matthew didn’t look up as he opened his car door. She held her breath, hoping she hadn’t shattered their new equanimity, as he seemed to come to a decision.
“Sure,” he’d said quietly. He met her eyes over the roof of his car. “You know, I’ve been thinking maybe we could invite my dad over for dinner again sometime. Not for a special occasion or anything.”
Was it possible that Matthew was changing the tenor of all the significant relationships in his life? She’d read about it in books and seen it in movies: A character who had a medical scare or near-death experience completely reevaluates his or her life. It was fairly common; she just never thought it would happen to Matthew.
My infidelity with Skip might actually have saved my husband, Marissa had thought in wonder.
Now Marissa watches Chris supervise Bennett as her son lays out tent stakes and poles and shakes out a bright blue tarp.