Matthew shrugs. “I have no idea. She probably heard it from one of her clients. Natalie likes to gossip.”
Marissa’s face softens.
I speak before she has the chance. “Matthew, why would one of Natalie’s clients tell her about your business?”
A beat of silence.
“She’s right, Matthew, that doesn’t make sense,” Marissa says slowly. Her eyes glitter, but before I can determine whether it’s from anger or tears, she blinks and the moment is gone.
“I don’t know. There was an item in the trades—maybe she read it.” He pauses. “Or look—honestly?—maybe it did slip out when I bumped into her a few weeks ago at that school thing.”
“International Night?” Marissa interjects.
Matthew nods. “I can’t remember any reason why it would have come up. But, come on, let’s get real. Even if I told Natalie, that hardly compares to Marissa cheating on me.”
His zinger lands; she shrinks a bit in her seat.
Given that the betrayal is still fresh in his mind, I can’t expect Matthew to fight fair.
Still, he has proven that he comports himself fairly well under pressure. Now it’s Marissa’s turn.
“True,” I muse. “Even if Matthew did confide in Natalie—even if he goes out to lunch with her later this week and flirts with her and relishes the memory of what she was like in bed—it wouldn’t come close to the way you betrayed him.”
Marissa’s lips press tightly together.
“Do you think Natalie still wants you, Matthew?” I ask.
He smiles. He likes the question.
“Of course she wants him.” Marissa’s color is high; we’ve hit a nerve. “She never stopped wanting him.”
“She’s single, right?” I ask.
Matthew frowns. “How did you know that?”
“Just a hunch,” I say lightly.
“We set her up with one of our friends last summer, but it didn’t go anywhere,” Matthew replies. “I don’t think she was that into him.”
“Because she’s into you,” Marissa says sharply.
Matthew rolls his eyes at his wife.
Over a decade of marriage, and he hasn’t learned that an eye roll practically guarantees a marital fight? Maybe he’s spoiling for one.
“Natalie still wants Matthew? How can you tell?” I urge Marissa on.
“We had dinner together after we fixed her up—the four of us. But it was like Matthew was the only one at the table. It’s always like that with her.”
“Come on, Marissa. That’s ridiculous.”
They’re on the cusp. Then Marissa gathers herself.
“I admit it; I’m a little jealous.… And, yes, Matthew is perfectly free to have lunch with whomever he wants.” Marissa bows her head. “I know we’re not here because of Natalie.”
It’s as if she took a pin and popped a balloon; the swelling pressure in the room immediately evaporates.
“Marissa, I’ve never given her any reason to think she has a chance with me.” The annoyance is gone from Matthew’s tone.
“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m having an issue at work myself, and I’m a bit out of sorts.”
Matthew claims Marissa’s hand again. “What is it?”
“Polly”—Marissa glances at me—“she’s my new assistant, and I’m thinking about letting her go.”
I casually lift my pen and write down the name.
“What? I thought she was doing a great job.”
“It’s complicated.” Marissa’s fingers are moving; she’s gently massaging Matthew’s hand. “We can talk more about it later. I’d love your advice, actually.”
Well done, I think, watching Marissa smile at her husband. Marissa defused their fight and owned her issues. She snatched her husband back, luring him away from the tantalizing words I dangled about his imagining Natalie in bed.
She was almost too perfect.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MARISSA
MARISSA ENVISIONED A DIFFERENT SORT of evening after the conclusion of their third session with Avery. She thought she and Matthew would enjoy a late meal at home, perhaps dining by candlelight. She’d purchased fresh salmon fillets and sweet potatoes, something she could assemble quickly while they sipped a glass of wine.
But Matthew had said he needed to return to the office for a couple of hours. So after paying Hallie and putting Bennett to bed, Marissa ate leftover spaghetti at the kitchen island.