The Art of Scandal(84)

Rachel recognized the woman Matt described. She’d gotten drunk in the rosebushes and nearly wrecked a vintage Camaro. She’d plunged headfirst into the kind of full-body love that can destroy you. She was the scandal Herman feared and Matt never fought for. The woman she’d been pressured to leave behind.

“You didn’t marry her,” Rachel said softly.

Matt blinked, confused. “What?”

Rachel met his eyes. “That woman you described. She wasn’t someone you could build a life with.”

Matt swiveled on the couch to face her. “That’s not—”

“You said we were being honest.” Her voice trembled, thick with tears. “So don’t rewrite our history. We agreed, remember? To be partners. To be what each other needed. And you needed to be this man who needed this wife at his side.” Her eyes blurred, hazing out the details of his face. “And I said yes. I was here. Where the fuck were you?”

“Okay,” Shania said. “I think maybe we should—”

Matt held up his hand to cut her off. “What the hell are you talking about? I was always here for you and Faith. My family has always treated you like one of us. Better! Christmas ski trips and dinners. We didn’t have family dinners growing up. And it took years for Dad to set up our trusts, but Faith was only eight years old when he—” He stopped. The red flush leached from his face, and he closed his mouth so quickly it made a popping sound.

Matt was a bad liar, but only if you were paying attention. If she hadn’t been ignoring him all these years, maybe she would have caught his cheating sooner. His complexion was a mood stone that would always betray him.

“When he what?” Rachel asked. Matt’s shoulders caved, revealing the truth; the trust Herman showed her had nothing to do with her decision to stay. “He opened that account when we got married?”

Shania leaned in again. “We’re getting off topic.”

Rachel stood. “You lying son of a bitch.”

She left the room, grabbed her car keys, and sped out of the garage. Her vision was so clouded by tears she had to pull over. She was done. Whatever war she’d been waging was over.

Once the tears faded, she realized she had nowhere to go. Nathan had been her haven. Years ago, she’d thought it might be Alesha and briefly fantasized about being welcomed into some perfect long-lost family. But real families were messy and flawed. They saw the truth of your horrible marriage even when you didn’t want them to. That’s what she needed. Something real.

Ten minutes later she knocked on the door of a two-story bungalow with an old, dented Corolla parked out front. Mia opened the door and blinked in surprise. Her face was sweaty like Rachel had interrupted her workout.

“Sorry I didn’t call first,” Rachel said, her resolve not to cry again crumbling at Mia’s worried expression. “My life is a mess and I really need help.”

Mia’s living room was filled with the type of overstuffed furniture that swallowed you whole. Rachel chose a recliner and sank into its cushions. She explained everything, from Herman’s deal to being in love with Nathan. It felt good to finally admit it out loud.

“So, the Abbotts tricked you,” Mia said. She’d listened to Rachel’s story with the grimness of an undertaker.

“Yes,” Rachel said. “And I fell for it. I saw all that money and threw away—” The rest, she swallowed back. She’d learned her lesson about speaking her pain into existence. She couldn’t take another bruise. “Now I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?”

Rachel laughed. “What I want is not an option.”

“Why not?”

“Because it just isn’t. It never was.” She shucked off her shoes and pulled her legs up to her chest. “Where’s Livie?”

Mia turned to look over her shoulder, as if her daughter would appear out of thin air. “She’s with Ken in DC,” she said. “Her dad got her concert tickets to see that boy with the big glasses and curly hair?” She shrugged. “I never know what to do with myself when she’s gone.”

Rachel pointed to the treadmill in the corner of the room. “Work out, I guess?”

Mia nodded slowly. “Sure.” She paused. “Do you like lions?”

Rachel blinked. “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

“Livie used to love them. It was one of her first words. She’d say la la instead of lion and it was so cute. I got mad when Ken would correct her. Anyway, for a while it was lion everything. Stuffed lions, lion birthday cake, Halloween costumes. As she got older, it was National Geographic documentaries. Her friends were into princesses, and she was obsessed with hunting conditions in the savannah.”

“I miss that,” Rachel said. “How passionate Faith would get about something. It was so intense.”

“We lose that, don’t we? Passion. Like it’s something you outgrow.” She propped her legs up on the coffee table. “So, one day, Livie is talking my ear off about how lionesses abandon the pride when they have cubs. They leave to protect them from predators, moving from place to place to hide their scent. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t.” She also had no idea where the conversation was going. But just listening to Mia’s low voice was calming. She sank deeper into the chair. “How long are they gone?”