He looked mortified. “I know, I shouldn’t have said that—”
“I’ll take fifty.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Fifty thousand,” Kenzie said. “And you’ll never hear from me again. After everything you’ve put me through, I think it’s the least you can do. Not to mention everything your wife put me through, screaming at me and my roommate in our hallway like a fucking lunatic, like I’m the villain. You’re the one who started this, Paul. You’re the one with the family. This is your betrayal, not mine, and you got caught. If your wife hadn’t found out about us, you know what we’d be doing right now? We’d be having sex, Paul, that’s what. So while it’s all well and good that the two of you are working things out, you’re not going to get out of our relationship that easily.”
Paul seemed completely flabbergasted, but after a moment, his confusion turned to self-righteousness. “You’re kidding, right? I’m not paying you fifty—”
Kenzie stomped away from him, through his wet grass and back to the front door. He got to her just in time—her hand right above the doorbell, poised to push—and wrenched her arm back.
“Fine, I’ll pay you,” he hissed. “But get the hell out of here.”
“Cash. Tomorrow. Where do you bank?”
When he told her, she said, “I’ll meet you outside on the corner at exactly nine thirty. If you don’t show, I’m coming back to your house. And I’m going to wait here until your wife comes home. And if your neighbors ask who I am, I’ll tell them. Hell, I’ll show them pictures. I have a ton of photos, Paul, did you know that? I’m one of those bubbleheaded millennials that takes pictures of everything, and I’ve got a whole bunch of you sleeping beside me, naked. You never noticed, did you? And I’ll post one photo a day on my Facebook and Instagram until I’ve ruined your life the way you’ve ruined mine. You broke my heart, you asshole.”
She turned and stalked off, knowing full well that none of what she said was true. She wasn’t planning to come back, ever. There were no pictures. He hadn’t broken her heart. This would either work or it wouldn’t, and all that was left to do was wait and see if he’d call her bluff.
Paul met her the next morning at exactly nine thirty outside his bank. He thrust a manila envelope into her hands without so much as a hello, refusing to make eye contact.
“Leave me alone now, McKenzie,” he said, and walked away.
Kenzie headed straight home, her heart pounding with exhilaration. When she got back to the apartment, she dumped the cash onto her bed. She counted it quickly the first time, then slowly a second time, savoring the feel of the crisp bills in her hands. Fifty thousand dollars. She had never seen so much money, and it felt amazing.
She called J.R.
“He paid,” she said without preamble when he picked up.
She could picture his grin on the other end. “That’s my girl,” J.R. said. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
She extracted fifteen thousand for living expenses and her next semester’s tuition, and the rest went to cover her mother’s first year at the Oak Meadows Assisted Living Facility.
Three months later, Kenzie ran into Paul at the Seattle Food Festival, where she was working at the taco truck. His parents lived in Seattle, which must have been why he was in town. His face paled at the sight of her when he stepped up to order, but he paid for six tacos and pretended he didn’t know her. She watched as he walked back to his family, distributing the food.
He never glanced back.
Kenzie lets out a long breath, letting the memory of Paul wash away. She has to focus on Derek now, who’s even richer than Paul, and who also appears to be making things work with his wife, and who didn’t even have the balls to tell her in person that their relationship is over.
If it’s over, so be it. But the negotiations are just starting.
She’s been walking for a while. She’s planning to catch a cab at Broadway, and the closer she gets to the busy street, the smaller the houses get. The creepy sensation of being watched is back. She pulls her phone out and keeps it in her hand, then hears a rustling sound behind her. On high alert, she stops and whips around, but once again, nobody’s there.
But goddamn it, it feels like someone is. Her skin feels like it’s crawling from the unwanted visual intrusion. She starts walking again, faster this time.
A voice floats out of the dark. “Hey.”
“Who’s there?” Kenzie says. She hates the way her voice sounds, high-pitched, frightened. “Hello?”
Something moves toward her, a hulking, elongated shadow that morphs into a person. Every part of her body is stiff, but then the light from a dim streetlamp catches his face and she realizes it’s someone she knows.
“Julian,” she says, surprised, when his facial features come into focus. Her relief is so powerful, her knees almost buckle. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” he says.
She can’t remember the last time she saw Julian—it’s been a year, if not longer. He steps toward her, his arms outstretched as if he’s going in for a hug. It’s weird, and instinctively she steps back. What’s he doing? They’ve never hugged before—the dude doesn’t even like to shake hands. Guy’s some kind of germaphobe, and she remembers he always carries a packet of those antibacterial wipes in his pocket.
Tonight, though, he’s wearing gloves. Except it’s not that cold.
“Is J.R. with you?” Kenzie asks.
Julian doesn’t answer. Instead, he smiles.
The last thing she remembers is his gloved fist connecting with her jaw, a hard pop before her knees buckle for real and everything goes black.
PART THREE
Down in a hole and I don’t know if I can be saved
—ALICE IN CHAINS
Chapter 21
Derek’s left hand is on the steering wheel, and his right hand rests on Marin’s knee. It’s such a small thing, such a tiny gesture, but his palm on her leg says everything about where they are today.
He was right—they needed this weekend away. Whistler was Derek’s idea, and he planned the entire thing without her knowing. The night after Marin wired two hundred fifty thousand dollars to a man named Julian to have Derek’s mistress murdered, her husband came home, handed her an anniversary card, and asked if they could start over.
She didn’t know what had changed. The day before, he’d broken up with McKenzie and then almost immediately had wanted her back. But something had shifted in the short time since then. He seemed different. As he reached for her hand, he was once again the Derek she remembered, the Derek she married.
“It’s been twenty years, Marin,” he said, his face anguished. “If you had to do it all over again, would you?”
Would she? Of course she would. They’d had two decades together, most of them good, minus that one mistake Derek made early on in her pregnancy. Up until the last sixteen terrible months—which were entirely her fault—they’d been solid. A trip away to celebrate might seem sudden, but at some point, you have to pick a direction. And wasn’t this what she wanted? Wasn’t this the point?
“I would do it over again,” she said, and meant it.
An hour later their bags were packed, their skis were on the roof, Sadie was notified, and they were on their way to the mountains.
Neither of them are perfect. Neither of them are without blame. Nothing is fixed. But finally, it feels like they’ve turned a page. It’s the way her husband is touching her knee, singing along to Nirvana. It’s the way she’s not cringing because he’s touching her. It feels like them again. She feels like herself again. It feels like the chance for a fresh start.
Fighting your way out of despair isn’t linear. It isn’t like one good thing happens and suddenly everything’s better, and hallelujah, your shitty days are now behind you. At least it isn’t like that for Marin. But today is a good day, and after months and months of living in a black hole, she’ll t
ake it.
Derek pulls into the driveway so he can switch cars. He already told her he’s not coming inside, that he has work to finish up at the office before a big meeting tomorrow. It’s fine; she knows work is a big part of who he is. She understands it helps him cope.
The salons are closed on Sundays, which means there’s nowhere Marin needs to be. Every part of her out-of-shape body is sore from four days on the slopes, and she’s looking forward to a hot bath and a good book.
“I’ll be back around eight.” Derek turns the volume down on the car’s stereo. “I can pick up Greek for dinner. Chicken souvlaki? Or do you feel like Indian? Tikka masala, garlic naan?”
“I think you’re hungry,” she says, and he laughs.
He rubs her thigh, and a tingle goes through her. “What can I say, I burned a lot of calories this weekend.”
He could mean because of all the skiing, but he doesn’t. She and her husband reconnected over the past few days. In every way.
“Let’s cook,” she says, feeling ambitious. “I’ll season a couple of ribeyes, and they’ll be ready for grilling when you get home.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. I can do Brussels sprouts on the side, unless you want something starchy? It’s been a while since I’ve messed up the kitchen.”
What she really means is that it’s been a long time since she’s felt like cooking. Roasted Brussels sprouts cooked with bacon and smothered in Parmesan cheese pairs perfectly with steak. It’s not a healthy way to make them, but they’re so tasty that even Sebastian loved—
She stops the thought, and then braces herself for the inevitable gut punch, which happens every time she’s reminded of her son. But nothing happens. The thought flits in, and then out, and she realizes she feels … okay.
Derek is watching her closely, his eyes filled with compassion. It’s like he knows exactly the path her mind just took, probably because his just did the same.
They both get out of the car. He moves their skis into the garage and brings the suitcases into the house.
“I love you.” He reaches for her hand and kisses her palm. It’s an intimate gesture, and she can’t remember the last time he did that.
“I love you, too,” she says.
He steps through the front door, but before she can shut it behind him, he’s back inside, pushing her up against the wall, his lips finding her lips, his fingers in her hair, and everything about it is natural, and romantic, and right.
She waits until he drives away before she closes and locks the door, then goes about doing what she normally does when she gets home after being away for a few days. She sorts through the mail. She waters the few plants they have scattered throughout the main level of the house. She checks on the orchid that sits in the middle of the kitchen table.
The orchid’s been in the same spot for a year and a half, and she remembers the day she got it. Derek took Sebastian to an indoor swimming lesson in November, the last Saturday before Thanksgiving. Afterward, the two of them stopped at Whole Foods to pick up some of the thick-cut maple-glazed bacon they all like. Sebastian loved grocery shopping, because they rarely said no to any food he asked for, so long as it wasn’t junk. Marin was finishing her coffee when she heard the garage door open, and a moment later, Sebastian was thundering through the mudroom and into the kitchen holding a giant pink orchid in a gray ceramic vase.
“Mommy, lookit!” Every inch of her little boy’s forty-inch frame was bursting with pride. “Daddy said we could buy you a flower! It’s your favorite color! I choosed it myself!”
“Aw, Bash, it’s beautiful.” She took the flower from him before he could drop it. “I love it. This is a present for me?”
“Daddy said you’re beautiful and that we should buy you a beautiful flower, so I choosed this one because pink is your favorite.” Sebastian was beaming.
Marin bent down and kissed his nose. “You’re exactly right, pink is my most favorite. Thank you, my love. Where should we put it?”
“Here on the kitchen table, and you have to water it every day, or the lady said it will get dead.” He shook out of his coat, letting it drop to the floor.
“Not every day,” Marin said with a laugh. “If I water it every day it will definitely get dead. Hey, excuse me, mister, where does your coat go?”
He ran back into the mudroom to hang his coat as Derek was coming in, overloaded with groceries. Derek dropped the bags on the counter, and she spied steaks, avocados, bananas, fresh-baked Asiago bagels, oatmeal raisin cookies, and chocolate croissants spilling out of the totes. She raised an eyebrow and he grinned, sheepish.
“You know I can’t just buy one thing,” he said as she kissed him hello. “We got a little carried away.”
“I gave Mommy the flower, Daddy,” Sebastian said.
“He sure did.” Marin picked her son up. He immediately wrapped his legs around her waist and his arms around her neck. She peppered the side of his head with kisses, grateful that he was still at an age where kisses from Mommy were welcomed. “I will take good care of it, Bash, I promise.”
And for the most part, Marin has. Orchids are sturdy, but finicky, and in the weeks after Sebastian disappeared, she stopped remembering to water it, and all the blooms fell off. Derek almost threw it away, but she’d screamed at him.
“Don’t you dare!” she shrieked, catching him just as he was putting it into the garbage. “Don’t you dare throw that away!”
“I was—”
“Give it to me!” She grabbed for it, and he let her have it, backing away. She was wild-eyed, her hair falling out of its loose bun. She’d barely slept and she hadn’t showered in days. “Look at the stalks. They’re still green. The blooms will come back. I just have to remember to water it. Once I do, they’ll come back, I know they will…”
She’d collapsed onto the floor, still holding the orchid, and sobbed and sobbed. Derek stared at her, paralyzed, not knowing what to say. Finally, he turned and left, disappearing into the mudroom, disappearing into the garage, disappearing into his car. Disappearing, just like everything else that was good.
They’re not in that place anymore. Marin is no longer hysterical and inconsolable, and Derek is no longer frozen and helpless. She doesn’t exactly know how to define this new place, which isn’t the same as the old place, but is better than where they just were. As Dr. Chen would say, “Even a millimeter forward is progress.”
The orchid is making progress, too. When they left for Whistler, the stalks were strong and green, but still bare, as they’ve been for the past year. But now …
Marin catches a glimpse of something and leans forward, examining the stalk to be sure she’s seeing what she thinks she’s seeing. Yes. There it is. One tiny pink petal poking out of the bud. The orchid Sebastian gave her is blooming again. And suddenly she feels a stab of hope so sharp and fierce, it almost guts her.
I choosed it, Mommy.
A text comes in, and she reaches for her phone on the kitchen island. It’s from Sal.
You alive?
There are a hundred ways Marin could answer, because today the question is so loaded. She and Sal slept together, and at some point, they’ll have to talk about it. Sal knows she went to Whistler with Derek, and he’s probably wondering what it all means for them. And by them, not Marin and Derek. Marin and Sal.
For now, though, she takes the easy way out. She responds the way a younger person would, without words. She simply sends back an emoji.
A heart.
* * *
The people from grief group use text to communicate with each other in between meetings, assuming there’s even a need. Group works best when it remains compartmentalized. Feelings are poured out only within the safe confines of Frances’s donut shop, and left there to evaporate when they return back to regular life. Nobody from group goes out for cocktails afterward, nobody grabs dinner, nobody sends an email a couple of weeks later “just to check in.”
But now Simon fro
m group is calling. Not texting. Calling. Marin didn’t hear the phone ring at first because the faucet for the bathtub is running at full force, but she sees his name light up the screen when she goes to grab a towel.
She stares at her phone, contemplating whether or not to answer. Whatever it is Simon wants to talk about, it can’t be good, and she isn’t sure she’s up for it. For the first time in a long time, Marin feels … normal. Even. And she wants this feeling to last, at least for today.
But then she remembers. Simon’s child is missing. There are a handful of people in the world he can talk to about it, and Marin is one of them. She reaches for the phone, and as she pads back into the bedroom, she hits the green icon on the screen to answer the call.
“Marin, thank god you picked up,” Simon says. “I tried you a few minutes ago but you didn’t answer.”
His voice is different. He doesn’t sound sad, he doesn’t sound depressed, he sounds … wound up. Almost frantic.
“Simon, hi. What’s going on?” She perches herself at the edge of the bed to peel off her socks. The double doors to the ensuite are open, and she has a clear view of the bathtub from where she’s sitting. The tub isn’t full yet, and because it’s so big, she still has a couple of minutes before she has to turn the water off. “Are you okay?”
“I just got a call from Frances. Marin … they found Thomas.”
She hears the words, but her brain can’t fully comprehend them. She’s frozen, one sock dangling from her foot, only half pulled off. “What did you say?” she asks, and it comes out a strangled whisper.
“Frances got a call from the police this morning that they found Thomas.” Simon’s voice changes halfway through the sentence. It gets quieter.
And then she understands. The news hits her like a throat punch, and suddenly she can’t swallow.
“Oh my god.” Marin can barely choke the words out. “Oh, Simon. Oh no.”
“They found his body in a crack house in Stockton.”
“California?”
Little Secrets Page 21
