The Art of Scandal(83)

“I’m not going.” Nathan poured a drink. “Like I said, it’s done. I promised art, not a public appearance.” He slammed the shot and welcomed its fiery trail down his throat. If he couldn’t fuck the memory of Rachel away, maybe he could let it drown.

“Why do you always do this?” Bobbi grabbed her purse and slid to the end of the booth. “I’m so stupid for wanting more for you. Why should I when you clearly don’t want it for yourself?”

“You don’t want more for me,” Nathan said, desperate for her to finally get it. She needed to accept that this was all he was, some basic guy in a bar. Not some brilliant artist “squandering his potential.” “You want it for some other guy, with goals and ambition… and I tried, but—”

“Stop. I am sick of you pretending that no one loves you because you’re too afraid to love them back. Well, that’s life. Love, pain, and expectations. Welcome to it.” Bobbi grabbed her purse and spat, “Grow up,” over her shoulder before she marched to the door.

Nathan leaned back against the booth, staring at his empty glass with her words heavy on his mind. His phone vibrated.


Joe: I know you don’t own a tux. I got you. Hit me back in the morning.



He hadn’t spoken to Joe in weeks. He’d figured his brother had finally lost faith in him. But here he was, offering the same olive branch he always did.

“Hey, Nate. Are you okay?” Dillon frowned. “Bobbi didn’t hurt your feelings, did she? You look like you’re about to cry.”

“I’m okay,” Nathan said. Bobbi was right, he needed to grow up. He needed to appreciate the people who loved him, by doing the one thing they’d ever asked of him: showing up.





Rachel knew how to grieve. She had a whole life of loss to draw from. When the pain became too much, she would think about something worse than losing Nathan. Like abandoning Faith again. Or becoming more like her own mother. If someone noticed her red eyes, she blamed exhaustion. If someone mentioned his name, she changed the subject. She woke up each day and reminded herself, like a mantra, that she would eventually move on. These things had stages.

But the strategy kept her in stasis, in a state between despair and numbness that nothing could penetrate, not even Matt’s clumsy attempts to be a good husband. She couldn’t even get angry. Which was why, the day before the gala, she wasn’t surprised to see their marriage counselor sitting in her living room.

Rachel waited for someone else to speak. Matt propped his elbow on a pillow, glanced at Rachel’s rigid posture, and sat up straighter. “I’d like to say something that’s long overdue.”

Shania nodded with a tilted head. “Sounds like progress. Rachel, are you ready to hear it?”

The question was pointless, because they both knew the answer didn’t matter. Engaging quietly while smothering a primal scream had always been the cost of her life. But unlike in previous sessions, she couldn’t fake the requisite enthusiasm. Her shoulder lifted with a shrug so lackluster that Shania looked concerned.

Matt reached out like he wanted to take her hand. Rachel made a fist. He rubbed the couch cushion between them instead. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just… say it. I’ve been unfaithful to Rachel.”

She was stunned. After months of hand-wringing and blackmail schemes, the easy slip of the truth from his mouth stole her breath. There had to be a reason, some new strategy she was missing. Shania looked dumbfounded. Matt stared down at his hands.

“I’ve thought a lot about why I did it,” he said. “What I was looking for. And I think… no, I know that I was lonely.” He looked at Rachel with desolate eyes. Her chest tightened. Without his usual cockiness, Matt was almost unrecognizable. “We stopped talking. I don’t know when it happened, but we shared this house without being together. You didn’t like being around me.” Rachel shook her head, but he lifted a hand and said, “It’s true. Please, let’s be honest for once. You hated being alone with me. And I’m not blaming you, I just… I don’t know why.”

Rachel’s first impulse was to reach for the anger she always kept sharp and ready for attack. But losing Nathan had worn down the edges. Thirteen years of heartache rushed out in its place.

“You stopped listening,” she said. “I tried to tell you that this life, your career, was strangling me, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t hear that and keep pretending everything was okay. So I stopped trying.” She paused, replaying the last few years of their marriage. How quiet it was unless they argued. How cautious and still. “I’ve been lonely too,” she said. “And jealous. Your life is filled with so much purpose, and I’ve drained mine of anything real.” Each word cracked her open, bit by bit. She dug deep and pulled out more. Maybe it was also healing something. “I don’t know why you married me.”

Matt looked horrified. “What? That’s a ridiculous thing to say.”

“No, Matt,” Shania interjected, surprising them both by her sudden shift in loyalties. “Don’t negate how she feels. There’s a question in that statement, and she needs an answer.”

Matt sat back with a furrowed brow. He stared at Rachel for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “How could you not know? You captivated me. I spent our first year together being rocked by you and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He retreated into his thoughts, his lips twitching into a smile. “You were beautiful. And funny. I don’t think you know that, but you’re funny without even trying. You were strong. Creative. And brave.” He met her eyes again. “You didn’t care about who I was or what anyone else thought about you. That wild whirlwind of stuff inside you? I never had that. I was grateful to be invited in. To just hang on and watch.”