And then there was Martha—light, warm, like any of Selena’s friends. She’d liked Martha on sight; she remembered that now. Right away there had been a connection. She still felt it.
Selena lifted a palm. “It’s totally fine. It’s in the vault. Just between us.”
Martha smiled gratefully. Selena twisted the stem of her glass, the red sloshing inside.
“I’d had such a bad day—and you have such a warm energy,” Martha went on. “And I just felt like I wanted to spill my guts to you.”
“I get it,” said Selena, leaning forward, lowering her voice. “I’m embarrassed, too. And after all of that, it turned out that my situation was a false alarm.”
Martha blinked. Was there a little flash of surprise on her face? “Oh?”
“I was just being paranoid,” Selena said, going for a self-deprecating smile. “My husband and I have hit some rough patches in the past. And I have trust issues to begin with. But there was nothing going on at all.”
More lies.
“Well, that’s a relief, right?” Martha took a sip of her wine, a sparkling rosé. “Here’s to problems just going away.”
They clinked glasses over the candle between them.
“What about you?” asked Selena.
“I broke it off with my boss.” Martha sat up a little straighter. “He took it like a gentleman, and it’s business as usual—for now. I do think I need to find another job.”
Was the other woman lying, too? Did she reach out over and over because she too regretted what she had said to a stranger? Well, that was fine. They could each tell their lies and keep their little secrets.
“That’s great,” said Selena, touching the other woman’s hand. “You did the right thing.”
“After we met, I wondered what you must have thought of me. A woman sleeping with a married man.”
“Hey,” Selena said with a wave of her hand. “We all make mistakes, errors in judgment, right?”
A couple nestled at the table behind Martha—young and in love. Just wait, thought Selena, surprised at her own bitterness. At another table, two women leaned in close, talking in whispers. The bartender dried glasses, most of the seats in front of him empty on a rainy Monday night. He kept glancing at Martha, and Selena noticed his powerful build, how defined were the muscles on his arms. On almost every table, smartphones glowed.
“So, what happened with your husband?” asked Martha, looking down at the table. “How did the conversation go?”
What she wanted to say: I confronted him. We had a huge blowout. I threw a toy robot at him. My son heard everything. I kicked Graham out and only let him come home because Oliver saw him sitting outside in the car, stalking the house. Oh, and now the nanny’s missing. I have no idea what’s going to happen next.
“I confronted him,” she said instead, keeping her tone light and measured. “And he assured me that there wasn’t anything going on.”
Martha kept an intense gaze on Selena. “Okay. And you believe him.”
“I do,” Selena said with a shrug. “I have to. He’s my husband.”
Martha lifted her eyebrows. “Is that how it works?”
Selena regarded the other woman. “More or less. If you don’t have trust, you don’t have much.”
God, she was so full of shit. But Martha lifted her glass as if in cheers to the truth.
“I’ve never been married, not even close,” said Martha. “So what do I know?”
Martha looked down at an emerald ring she wore on her right hand, turned it, its brilliance catching the candlelight. A beautiful cushion cut in a white gold band.
“In fact, I’m not sure I’m the marrying type,” Martha went on.
“No?”
Selena couldn’t help but take in the details of the other woman—her perfect manicure, the expensive drape of her clothes, her dewy flawless skin. This was a woman who spent a lot of time on her appearance—one who had a lot of time to spend. And money.
“My parents—they weren’t happy,” the other woman said. “There was violence. Infidelity. I guess I carry that with me.”
There was something about the way she said it and Selena felt a jolt. Did they really have that thing in common? Of course, lots of people grew up caught in the crossfire of a bad marriage. Or was it some kind of dig? Did this woman know more about Selena than she should? No. That was crazy. How could she?
Her phone pinged. Graham: What the hell are you doing in Tribeca? Did you leave with Will?
He was obviously tracking her. She ignored his text. He didn’t have a right to get weird about where she was and who she was with. He could fuck right off.
“That’s hard,” Selena said, keeping her voice lightly sympathetic.
“Did your parents have a happy marriage?” asked Martha.
What was it about Martha? This uncomfortable insta-intimacy. She wanted to tell Martha that her father had been chronically unfaithful, that her mother had endured for the sake of her children. That Selena believed it had scarred her, the way it had Martha. But she didn’t. She was here for damage control, not to reveal more personal things about herself to this woman. She wanted to extract herself gracefully from this mess, not become more entangled.
“No,” said Selena. “Not really. But my mother’s second marriage is happy. So maybe it’s just about finding the right person.”
“Well,” said Martha, draining her rosé and lifting her hand to the waiter for another. He practically raced over to take her empty glass. “You seem like someone who really has her life together.”
Selena laughed, feeling a rush of pleasure that at least she was putting up a good front. “I hope that’s true. I wonder if anyone ever feels like she has her life totally together.”
Martha smiled. “Maybe not.”
“Most of the people I know are just making it up as they go along. Good days. Bad days. That’s how it goes, I think, maybe for everyone.”
Another text from Graham: I know you never stopped caring about him. There are all kinds of infidelity, you know, Selena.
Oh, really. He was going to try to pull that crap? Selena picked up the phone, ignoring his second text, and stowed it in her bag.
Martha nodded toward where Selena’s phone had rested. “Hubby wondering where you are?”
“He is,” she said. “I should probably head out after this one.”
The waiter brought another glass for each of them. She hadn’t even realized that hers was nearly empty.
“I thought he was away.”
Shit. “He is. But he still wants to say good-night.”
“Sweet.”
Selena took another sip of her wine. She felt the fatigue of this awful day pull on her eyelids, settle like an ache in her head. That sense of freedom she felt when she first left the house and headed into the city now felt more like an unmooring, like she could just float away into space.
“So what about the nanny?” Martha asked. “Are you keeping her on? Even after your suspicions?”
She had managed to push Geneva completely out of her mind. She’d always been good at that, putting unpleasant things away to focus on something else. Maybe she got it from her mother.