Tears spill down her cheeks. “Matthew, please say something! I’m so sorry.”
Matthew sets downs the poker.
He sinks back into his seat and stares straight ahead, as if he’s in shock.
“You and Skip,” he whispers. “Are you kidding me? How long has it been going on?”
“It only happened once; I swear.”
“You’ve been lying to me this whole time.” Matthew’s voice is preternaturally calm and soft. To Marissa it has the feel of the trembles that precede an earthquake.
“I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I told you, you’d leave me and I couldn’t bear that. But I should have. You deserved to know.”
“I just—I can’t get my mind around this. Skip was in our house last night, Marissa. We all sat around talking about old times and all the while, you and he…”
Matthew reaches for his glass and drains the wine. “Does Avery know about all this?”
Marissa hesitates. Will it make it better or worse for Matthew when he hears the answer?
“She does, yes.”
With a swift, powerful motion he hurls the empty crystal against the stone fireplace. She flinches as it shatters into a dozen pieces, shards cascading everywhere.
“Everybody was in on it but me! You all think I’m a fucking fool!”
Marissa shakes her head. “No! I’m the fool, Matthew. I ruined everything! You’re the only one I want.”
“Yet the evidence doesn’t support that.” Matthew is back in control, his sharp legal mind countering whatever she says.
“I told Skip it won’t ever happen again. I begged him to leave us alone. But…”
“But Skip won’t accept that?” Matthew is looking straight ahead, as if he can’t bear the sight of her.
“It seems that way,” Marissa whispers.
In a way, she’s grateful she can’t see the fury and disgust that must be filling Matthew’s eyes. “I’ll do anything to—”
He abruptly stands up. Without a word, he begins heading toward the house.
She knows exactly what will happen next: He’ll pack a suitcase and stay at a hotel.
There will be no anniversary celebration tomorrow.
There will be no more anniversaries at all.
She watches as he reaches the glass doors.
But instead of pulling them open, he turns around and walks back to her. She is prepared for him to yell or tell her to move out.
But when he gets closer, she can see his eyes are wet. She has only seen her husband cry once, when his mother died.
Marissa feels as if something is breaking inside of her, too.
“Are there any more secrets?”
Of all the hundreds of questions Matthew has asked her throughout their lifetime together, this is the most important one, the one she must get right.
She shakes her head. “That was the last one.”
Matthew nods, and in that moment Marissa feels time shudder to a stop.
Matthew looks at the house again, as if weighing his options. Then he looks back at her.
She waits, afraid to even breathe.
“I thought it was over,” Matthew finally says. “But I can’t let go of you.”
CHAPTER FORTY
AVERY
I SETTLE INTO A COMFORTABLE rhythm as I jog along Rock Creek Drive. Beside me, Romeo easily keeps pace. It’s our first real run since his stitches dissolved, and he seems to crave the exercise as much as I do.
It’s not merely a physical release I’m seeking. Something about the steady, repetitive motion of my feet along a familiar path tends to free up my mind. And right now, I desperately need clarity.
Marissa phoned me earlier this morning, while I was drinking coffee and reading the Sunday papers, letting me know she’d finally told Matthew the truth about Skip.
He still wants to try. Her voice was filled with wonder. He says he can’t let me go.
It’s not that simple, I’d told her. We’ve got a lot of work to do.
Of course. We’ll be there tomorrow night.
Session eight, I’d thought to myself. The Test. I have one in mind, but I may change it up based on what I learn today.
I’d asked to speak to Matthew, but she’d told me he was in the shower and would phone later.
It has been two hours, and I’m still waiting for that call.
Just as I think this, I’m nearly jerked off my feet.
“Romeo, no!” I pull on his leash to draw him back. The squirrel that caught his attention scampers across our path and climbs a tree. I wince and rub my shoulder with my free hand, then resume running, passing a pair of women who are walking together along the path.
Usually by this point in my process I’ve identified my clients’ issues and have a treatment plan well underway.
I think back to the notes I jotted on my yellow pad, beneath Matthew’s and Marissa’s names, during our first session.
Marissa’s confession: Infidelity.
Probable root cause: Emotional distance.
If my progress was being judged solely by the quality of the Bishops’ relationship, I could view this case as an emerging success. Their marriage appears healthier now than it did when they first walked through my door.
Appearances.
I’d also written down that word during our initial visit and underlined it twice. Now I mentally add to it:
Appearances lie.
Nothing about the Bishops or the people around them is straightforward.
The dirt trail veers sharply uphill. My legs begin to burn and my lungs feel tight, but I force myself to maintain my pace, knowing I’ll reach the crest and the downhill soon. Beside me, Romeo is still running easily, looking at me every now and then as if to make sure I’m keeping up.
I reach the halfway point of my run, which is marked by a fallen tree, its intricate root system exposed.
I’ve warmed up, so I stop to unzip my fleece jacket and adjust one of my earbuds, which keeps slipping out.
I’ve seen a half dozen people on this trail, but no one is around right now. A breeze rustles the trees, and I inhale crisp air. “Ready to head back?”
Romeo seems agreeable, so we turn and begin to retrace our route.
A minute later, my phone buzzes in the side pocket of my leggings. I slow down to see who it is, then hit the button to accept the call.
“Hey, Matthew.” I stop again and try to catch my breath. “How are you?”
“How am I?” It sounds as if I’m on speakerphone. Perhaps he’s phoning me from his car.
I wait for him to continue. I want to hear Matthew’s version of the evening.
“Completely pissed off. Like I’ve been sucker punched.”
“It’s a terrible betrayal.” Even if on some level Matthew suspected it was Skip, to have it confirmed must be devastating. “And I apologize for being complicit in it.”
“You’re the one I’m the least pissed off at.” Matthew exhales loudly. “Marissa obviously fucked up royally. She shouldn’t ever have let Skip in that night. It’s gonna take me a while to get over that. But these past few weeks, I’ve done a lot of soul-searching, and one thing I know for sure is that I want to stay married to Marissa. I can’t help it. I love my wife.”