“Some dude. Why? What did it say?”
“Nothing important. Do you remember anything else about him?”
“He was taller than me. I couldn’t really tell what he looked like—he had on a coat and hat, like everyone.”
Marissa wraps her arms around herself. “Did he tell you his name?”
“Nah. He just handed me twenty bucks and told me to slide the paper under your door. Didn’t know why he couldn’t just do it himself, but I wasn’t complaining. He waited until I got back and thanked me.”
Ray lifts his hand to cover his mouth as he coughs, and Marissa does a double take.
His blue leather gloves look expensive, and new—in stark contrast to the worn coat and old boots Ray is wearing.
She gapes. “Those gloves—”
“Oh, yeah.” Ray looks down at them. “Guess he knew I was cold. He took them off his hands and gave them to me. Nice, right? They’re probably from one of those fancy stores on Wisconsin Avenue—those places you can’t even go in if you don’t have a gold card.”
Marissa does know; the gloves were purchased from one of those very stores. The man who came to her house when Matthew was away was wearing them—they were, he told Marissa, his favorite pair, because she’d bought them for him for Christmas.
“I think they’re lined with cashmere.”
“They are,” Marissa whispers as she backs away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AVERY
I AWAKEN TO ROMEO’S SCRATCHY tongue licking my cheek. When I open my eyes, the morning light is shining through the slats of my blinds. I must have forgotten to set my alarm when I got home from Derrick’s late last night—or, technically, early this morning.
I roll over and let out a little groan as I recall how we left things.
I don’t want to give him up, but neither do I want to lead him on. He deserves more than I can offer right now.
As usual, it’s easier to help my clients solve their problems than tangle with my own.
I brush my teeth and dress quickly, and as I’m clipping on Romeo’s leash, my phone pings with an incoming text: I’m sorry to bother you, but with Matthew working late all week I’m finding it impossible to compliment him in person before our next session.
Come on, I think impatiently. How is Marissa going to fix her marriage if she can’t even manage to connect with her husband for a few minutes this week? It’s Wednesday, and I’m seeing the Bishops tomorrow night. If the two of them haven’t even been in a room together, it’ll be tougher to make progress in our session.
Marissa’s creative and thoughtful—I saw evidence of those qualities in her artfully arranged boutique, and in her social media posts, such as the Instagram snapshot of the Scary Berries she made for Bennett’s class Halloween party （strawberries decorated to look like pumpkins, ghosts, and monsters that must have taken a ridiculous amount of time to construct）。
She needs to channel some of that ingenuity into this assignment.
What about a surprise visit to his office? I type. Bring him a special treat before you pick up Bennett.
Three dots indicate she’s replying. But the message doesn’t come through until Romeo and I are partway down the block.
The text that finally appears is a single word: okay. It makes me wonder what she erased before hitting SEND.
I pull Romeo away from the staring match he’s conducting with a squirrel, deciding that while Marissa visits her husband, I’ll pay a surprise visit of my own.
* * *
A few hours later, I walk down the sidewalk toward Coco, passing the same man on a bench Marissa walked by the other morning. He holds up a sign that makes me smile: SAVING UP TO BUY A BABY GIFT FOR HARRY AND MEGHAN.
I tuck a few dollars in his cup and continue, pausing in front of Coco to take in the charming window display: two mannequins appearing to enjoy a luxurious-looking picnic. Instead of pulling open the door, I peer through the glass. Polly is there—alone, just as I’d hoped. She’s standing in the middle of the store, staring at herself in a wall mirror as she ties a silky floral scarf around her neck. She frowns, unties the scarf, and reties it, this time a bit off-center.
It’s exactly how Marissa wore her scarf yesterday.
I watch as Polly gives her reflection a satisfied nod.
She must feel my eyes on her because she spins around. I immediately pull open the door, causing the bell to jingle.
Polly greets me with a wide smile. “Hi! Welcome to…” She squints. “Avery?”
She memorized my name—just as I did hers the moment I wrote it on my yellow notepad during my third session with the Bishops.