Marissa’s stomach tightens as she enters and the heads of the nine other committee members swivel toward her. But instead of stepping into the room, Marissa makes a swift decision: She isn’t going to endure an hour of discussion about the incredible items the other committee members have procured for the live auction—a private tour of the Washington Monument, dinner for six at the Inn at Little Washington, a chance to feed the Amur tigers at the National Zoo—while Natalie presides over it all.
“Morning.” Marissa keeps her hand on the doorknob. “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to join you today, after all.”
Natalie rises to her feet unhurriedly, smoothing her yellow pencil skirt. She has paired it with a patterned silk blouse and alligator-print heels. Her amber-tinted sunglasses rest atop her head, pushing back her shiny dark hair. Marissa wonders if Natalie actually took the time to match the lenses with her outfit.
“Are you sure?” Natalie asks.
“You’re already here,” Dawn adds in the same judgmental tone she used during the boys’ baseball game three days ago.
Marissa forces herself to smile. “Unfortunately, there’s been a bit of an emergency, and I need to get”—at the last moment she decides to swap out the word home—“to my store.”
“Oh, can’t that eager young assistant of yours cover the shop for a bit?” Natalie pushes.
Marissa feels an intense surge of dislike. She doesn’t need to justify her decision to anyone, and she’s not even going to bother responding to Natalie’s last question.
“I’ll see you all soon!” Marissa says cheerfully, closing the door.
As she drives back home, she tries to shake off her dark mood, the result of her brief encounter with Natalie. Marissa is glad she didn’t give Natalie any indication the crisis involves Matthew being injured. Knowing Natalie, she’d probably swoop over with a hearty lasagna or casserole—one loaded with meat and cheeses and calories, the kind that most men can’t resist—then make a point of checking up on Matthew.
Marissa realizes her foot is pressing down harder on the accelerator, and she eases up. She swears she can feel her blood pressure rising. Ever since Natalie moved back to town, Marissa has tried to be a good sport. She looks the other way when Natalie places a hand on Matthew’s sleeve or leans in a bit too close to talk to him. She pretends to not notice when Natalie keeps her eyes fixed on Matthew, all but ignoring Marissa.
Those small aggressions have been piling up, though, and Marissa has finally reached her limit.
Avery would probably tell Marissa to be direct, to cut away the veneer of false friendship and voice her frustration. The thought is oddly liberating. Marissa will relish telling Natalie off.
But for now, her most important task is to get home and check on her husband.
She slips into the house quietly. The kitchen is exactly as she left it, with Bennett’s plate and empty orange juice glass in the sink. Marissa slides a coffee pod into the Nespresso maker and brews a cup, then carries it upstairs.
Matthew is propped up in bed, checking his phone.
“Hey”—she walks over to kiss him—“you’re supposed to be resting.” She gives him the coffee.
He takes a grateful sip. “I am resting. I’m still in bed. How much more relaxed could I be?”
He sets his coffee on the nightstand and lifts up the covers, patting the empty spot next to him. Marissa smiles and slips in beside him. Careful to avoid his bruised ribs, she lays her head lightly on his bare chest. His arms tighten around her.
“Marissa, I wanted to say this yesterday in Avery’s office before we got interrupted.” His deep voice is serious; beneath her left ear, she can feel the sure, steady beat of his heart. “I’ve done a lot of soul-searching these past few days. I want to be a better husband to you. And dad to Bennett. When I woke up in the ambulance, it was all I could think about. My regrets…”
Marissa quashes the impulse to shush him, to tell him he’s a wonderful husband and father. She remains silent because his words contain truth.
“I’m going to be around more. I promise.” Matthew kisses the top of her head. “Starting now.”
“I would really love that.” Is it possible, Marissa wonders, that all the horrible things that have happened will actually make their family stronger? She has been so achingly lonely in her marriage. If she is brutally honest with herself, as Avery has urged her to be, that feeling didn’t just sprout up in the months leading up to her terrible indiscretion. It has existed throughout her relationship with Matthew, this sense that only a tenuous, gossamer tie links them, and that something as fleeting as a strong gust could blow them apart.