The Paradise Problem (61)
How does one sit naked in a steam room, postmassage? Not with their legs crossed, as I very quickly learn. My legs slide apart the moment I try, my left one making an audible slap as I return it to the bench. I glance at Janet and mimic her posture but am convinced I look like I’m sitting miserably in the principal’s office.
“Mmmm,” Blaire moans, a little too sexually to not be awkward. “This is heaven.”
“It sure is,” I agree brightly, like we’re sipping lemonade on the veranda. I wipe a drop of sweat when it rolls down my forehead and onto my eyelid.
“About your anniversary dinner,” Janet cuts in, her voice rising out of the quiet. “Unfortunately, I don’t think there will be time for a big to-do. We’d like to keep the focus on Charlie.”
I stammer out a few sounds before settling on “Of course you would. It’s her wedding.”
She opens one eye, studies me coolly, and then closes it again. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
Blood rushes hot to my cheeks, making me feel lightheaded. Is this gaslighting? I think this is textbook gaslighting. “Oh, to be clear, West and I didn’t expect you to do anything.”
“No?” She adjusts her hands on her lap. “I must’ve misunderstood you the other night.”
I don’t even know what to do with my face right now. I glance at Blaire, who is looking right at me. When our eyes meet, she mouths a sympathetic “Don’t worry about it,” and I feel better, but still stunned.
“I did order a case of Liam’s favorite wine,” she says and seems to wait for me to provide the name, though the only wine I can think of is Boone’s Farm and I’m pretty sure that’s not it. “Mount Brave cab,” she supplies, finally.
“That’s the one.” I snap, but my fingers just slip across each other soundlessly and I really fucking hope neither of them watched me do that. “That’s very nice of you.”
“Any thoughts on grandchildren?” she asks, a hard-thrown curveball, and this time I know there’s no use schooling my expression. I look over at Blaire, who is just laughing quietly to herself.
“We, uh,” I say, before coughing. “It’s been busy. With the doctor things I have on my calendar. But we’re definitely trying. Very hard.”
“I bet y’all are,” Blaire says, and winks at me. “You’ve got that newlywed glow, even after all this time.” She adjusts her posture. “The quiet ones are the wildest, aren’t they? I’ve seen Liam’s arms. I bet that man hoists you up and—”
“Blaire.” Janet reaches up, delicately wiping her brow. “Honestly.”
Blaire winks at me, and I’m glad we’re in a steam room and that I’m already red. The idea of West hoisting me up in his arms during sex is… whew. It’s a lot.
“What was he like when he was younger?” I ask Janet.
“Liam?” she asks. “Oh, he was a good boy.” She pauses, smiling to herself. “The best boy, in fact. Protective, loyal, devoted.” Her expression straightens, and after a moment of silence, she stands, sauntering in her impressive nudity to the wall. “He would do anything to protect the people he loves. Remember that.”
Janet slips on her robe and then looks at me levelly, saying, “Be good to him, Anna,” before ducking out of the room.
I don’t know why this hits me so hard, in such a tender place. I remind myself once again that West isn’t my husband in the ways that matter. I shouldn’t let myself get wrapped up in this complicated, fucked-up family, especially since I have so much of my own complicated, fucked-up nonsense to figure out the second I land on US soil. But my heart doesn’t care that this isn’t my business; the odd combination of sadness and brittle love in Janet’s voice still makes me want to cry.
* * *
BLAIRE CHEERS ME UP with more anecdotes about what Janet was like when Blaire and Alex first went public with their romance. There were holidays that felt like final exams, miscommunicated dates and times meant to make Blaire look disorganized and irresponsible, and cutting insults murmured under her breath. I can imagine myself pledging my undying devotion to Blaire, but then she loses all credibility when she reassures me that, despite how prickly she can be, Janet is one of her best friends now. Which is a nice enough lie but frankly does me no good, since I don’t plan on being around long enough to get us out of the Mother-in-Law Hazing phase anyway.
When I start feeling a little lightheaded from the steam, I slip back into the security of my robe and duck out, finding my way back to the relaxation room.
The dim retreat smells like eucalyptus and mint, has candles flickering on every flat surface, and includes a large assortment of inviting couches, chaises, and plush chairs. It also has only one occupant now, one Dr. West Weston in the back corner, wearing a fluffy robe and resting with his eyes closed, head settled against the back of the broad chair. I don’t want to wake him, but the bamboo-wind-chime-vibe music playing in here doesn’t cover much sound, and my fresh glass of cucumber water and ice tinkles in my hand when I lift it for a sip. West opens one eye, and then two, and his face breaks into a smile that looks so genuine it makes my heart hiccup.
“Hey,” he says, all warm honey and sex.
“Hey.” I shuffle over to him and set down my glass. “Don’t you look cozy.”