“Yes, Matt. I’m learning to cook, not do brain surgery, so I think your overly generous deposit will be fine.” Her smile made Rachel’s chest hurt. She wanted to shove Matt away and warn Faith not to love him anymore. That they both had made a mistake that day. That wasn’t happiness, baby. We were just finally breathing.
“Try to have fun,” Faith said to Rachel. “Love you both. See you in a few weeks.”
Rachel frowned. “A few weeks?”
“For Niles’s sip and see. Did you forget?”
Of course she had. Mainly because she had planned to avoid it. But her cousin was the head chef at his future father-in-law’s new restaurant, and this would be a good networking opportunity for Faith.
Rachel assured Faith that she’d be attending, disconnected, and immediately moved away from Matt. If he noticed the slight, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he glared at her dress.
“I know you do the signature color thing for parties, but you can’t wear red to my fundraiser.” He propped his hands against his hips, forcing his suit jacket to flap behind him like wings. “It sets a tone. I’m running as a progressive Democrat. I can’t have my wife parading around in Reagan red.”
“That’s not an actual color.”
“Come on, Rachel, you can’t phone it in. That is not what we agreed to.”
“I agreed not to file for divorce.”
“And maintain the status quo. Which includes not humiliating me in public. You look like you’re headed to a singles bar.” The laziness of his insult stole her breath. So this was who they were now. Petty. Bitter. He used to preen in public whenever she wore something revealing on a date. Now he glared at her low neckline like it was a thong peeking out of her jeans.
“Why does it bother you so much?” She pressed a hand to her chest, over her pounding heart. “I like my body. I look good in red.” Since Matt’s confession, wearing the body-conscious clothes at the back of her closet had become an affirmation instead of a constant source of anxiety. They hugged every curve the Abbott publicity machine had tried to hide. “Is there something wrong with people finding me attractive? Does that mess with your poll numbers in some way?”
“Everyone knows you’re a beautiful woman.” He sighed, and his voice softened as if he were explaining things to a child. “You don’t need all this.” His gaze dripped with pity. “I know you’re hurting, but trust me, this isn’t the attention you want.”
She opened her mouth to speak but closed it quickly so she wouldn’t tell him it was too late. That Nathan had already proved him wrong. A laugh bubbled inside her throat and escaped her pressed lips.
He glowered in silence until she finished. “So everything is a joke to you now? Is that why you’re playing these games? I know you’re the one who broke my car window, by the way.”
Rachel shrugged. “You should be more careful about where you park it. You are up for reelection. Maybe it was a dissenting voice.”
“This is my career, Rachel. Forget this mayoral bullshit. I’m a year and a half away from Washington. Don’t ruin this for me.” He inhaled and his voice softened. “Please.”
She grabbed her purse and walked to the door. “Your tie is crooked.”
He looked down at the awkward knot. “Damn Windsor. I can never get it right. How do you—”
“Fuck off,” she snapped, stunning him silent as she left the room.
Whenever Nathan walked inside the Oasis Springs Country Club, he felt like he’d traveled back in time. It was opened in 1964, the same year Tomás Vasquez opened his first coffee plant a few miles away. The floor was still covered in the same ugly shag carpeting, so thick it was a tripping hazard. When he brought Dillon, they used to sneak into the supper club between the lunch and dinner crowds to steal leftover desserts and half-empty wineglasses from neglected tables. They would bake beneath the sun with a buzz they struggled to hide from their parents. Sofia and Beto never noticed, but Joe would catch him almost every time.
Today, the dining room was filled with potential donors for Matt’s congressional run pretending they were there to support his mayoral campaign, though most didn’t live inside the city limits. A popular cable news host held a plate filled with shrimp and stood next to a woman who was recently named CEO of one of the biggest social media platforms in the world. Nathan wove through the sea of designer suits and heavy jewelry, catching snippets of conversation along the way. “What we really need is universal pre-K, like Matt is saying. It’s all about food insecurity. Did you read that piece in The Atlantic? Black Lives Matter unless they’re four-year-olds who need a carton of milk.”