“Who paid when the two of you went out?” Josie asked.
“Um, the first two, it wasn’t— I mean, I think I did. Just for a few drinks.”
“That was our money! Not yours to spend on dates with other women!”
It was such a minor transgression, considering. And yet it burned a hole in Josie’s gut as she thought about how she’d bought cheap T-shirts and selected a minivan with cloth seats instead of the far-easier-to-clean leather.
She turned away from Frank and caught sight of someone approaching. It was a woman Josie didn’t recognize, dressed in jeans with rolled-up cuffs and a long red coat.
Dana? Josie thought wildly. Her pulse quickened.
But as the woman drew closer, Josie realized she was too young; she was probably only twenty or so.
“Hi,” the woman said as she drew closer.
Incredibly, Josie found herself smiling. “Hi,” she and Frank said in unison.
“Nice night,” the woman said. She had a slight accent. She offered her hand. “I’m Nicola. I’m here as an au pair for the Robertsons.”
“Nice to meet you.” Josie shook Nicola’s hand, then watched as Frank did the same. The sight of his large hand closing over the delicate, paler one shot a spear of jealousy into Josie.
Frank had touched another woman like this. And he’d done so much more.
“I was trying to find the park with the swings,” Nicola said.
“It’s down another two blocks,” Josie said. “Make a left on Beech Avenue and you’ll see it.”
Nicola thanked them and moved on.
“Josie,” Frank began, but Josie held up a hand. When Nicola was out of hearing range, she indicated to Frank to go on.
“I know this has done tremendous damage to you. To us,” Frank said. She saw his throat move as she swallowed. “Can we go to counseling? I can find someone. I’ll do anything I can to fix this. I swear, I want to kill myself for hurting you.”
“You’re a good salesman. But I’m not buying it.” The venom coming out of Josie’s mouth stunned even her. She had never spoken to anyone like this before, with such cutting contempt. “If you had any kind of decency, any shred of respect for our marriage, you would have stopped it after one time and confessed. But you just kept going. You’d still be having an affair if I hadn’t caught you!”
Frank’s eyes were red-rimmed. “I am so sorry. I will say that to you until the day I die.”
She couldn’t let him hijack this conversation; she needed to control the chessboard.
“Is she married?” Josie asked. It was a test.
Frank passed: “Yes.”
“Kids?”
“She has a son.” Frank scratched a spot above his ear. “I don’t know much—she never talked about him.”
“Do you have any idea of what the two of you did?” Josie asked. “Two families, destroyed. Hope it was worth it.”
Frank didn’t answer, but he seemed to crumple into himself.
Good, Josie thought.
“You say you didn’t sleep with her,” Josie said. “But you kissed her. There’s a lot of room between those two places. What else did you do, Frank?”
She held her breath. Her pulse pounded wildly in her ears. She grew dizzy. She felt as if she were stretching out her hand toward a downed electrical wire that might still be live.
Frank cleared his throat. When he spoke again his voice was so low she could barely make out the words. “We— I mean, there was a little more than kissing.”
The probing was too dangerous now. She recoiled from the explosive shock it delivered, even though there were other questions she desperately needed to ask: How far, exactly, did things go physically? Do you care about her? And: What about that night last year when you said you went to a work dinner and I couldn’t reach you?
But Josie found herself retreating, first walking and then running to her car. Her chest heaved with shallow, panicked breaths. She climbed in and pulled away from the curb, leaving Frank standing on the sidewalk, staring after her but making no move to stop her.
* * *
Chapter Eight
* * *
THE WORLD HAD GROWN wild and uncertain; it reminded Josie of a book she’d read to her children about a boy named Max, who was transported to an island where nothing was familiar, where monsters roamed and turbulent waves thrashed in the sea.
Josie exited her hotel room and took the elevator down to the parking garage. After fleeing from her conversation with Frank, she’d spent all of ten minutes back in her room before realizing the uneasy energy pulsing through her body made it impossible to stay. She had to get out again.
She still wasn’t hungry, but she knew she needed to eat something to keep up her strength. She’d thought about having dinner in the hotel restaurant, but one glance inside convinced her it was too dimly lit and empty. Plus the eager smile and beckoning gesture from a passing waitress indicated that the service would be overly attentive. She didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts, nor did she want to make polite conversation with a stranger. She needed the sounds and movement of other people to not only distract her but camouflage her.
Josie unlocked her Sienna and climbed in, noting how strange it felt to suddenly have so much unstructured time alone. In her other life, the one that no longer existed, she’d be collecting laundry and making a grocery list and answering emails, all the while tending to the needs of the kids.
Josie nearly slammed on the car brakes as she caught sight of the time on the dashboard clock. She and Frank were supposed to have a date tonight. They’d talked about trying a new Peruvian restaurant. A neighborhood teenager was scheduled to show up at seven o’clock, which was almost the precise hour now.
If she hadn’t found out about the affair, she’d be dabbing perfume behind her ears and slipping into heels. Trying to look pretty for her husband. The thought was an ember in her chest.
She thought about texting Frank before she remembered she had his phone. He’d have to deal with it, make up an excuse for the sitter. Frank might need to learn how to manage on his own from now on, she thought.
Josie wound through the streets surrounding the Marriott, passing a Chipotle and then a Starbucks—the green awning another electric shock of a reminder—before settling on a tapas restaurant. It looked expensive. Josie hoped her bill totaled more than all of Frank’s dates with Dana.
She found a parking spot near the entrance, shut off her engine, and opened her door. Then she closed it again. She adjusted the rearview mirror and considered her reflection. Her skin was clear, but her lips were chapped and the lines spreading out from her eyes seemed more pronounced than before. She opened her purse and removed her makeup bag. She took some time to apply dark sable eyeliner, a little blush, and some lip gloss. She finger-combed her hair, smoothing the flyaways, then exited the car.
Maybe she’d flirt with a handsome man sitting alone at the bar. It would serve Frank right. She had a free pass to kiss anyone she wanted. Perhaps if she had an affair of her own, the score would feel more even.
The thought sent an unexpected thrill through her. She still had the number for Steve, the hot stay-at-home dad, in her phone contact list.
She pulled open the heavy wooden door to the restaurant and stepped inside. She immediately realized she’d made the correct choice in coming here. Small tables were nestled throughout the floor space, ringed by cushioned booths covered in plush red leather. Against the back wall, flames danced in a giant fireplace. The bar was crowded, and the buzz of voices and laughter filled the room, mingling with John Legend’s voice pouring out of the speakers.
“One?” the hostess asked as Josie approached the stand.
“Yes.” Josie had never minded eating alone. Especially these days, when Izzy’s possible almond allergy often complicated their family trips to restaurants.
Josie followed the hostess to a table that was nestled against the wall, turning one side of it into a booth. Josie slid onto
the soft red leather and accepted the menu that the hostess opened like a book.
She perused the offerings before settling on a trio of small plates: a romaine leaf salad with goat cheese and slices of mandarin oranges, spinach sautéed with garlic, and spicy shrimp.
“And a glass of pinot noir,” she told the waiter.
“Very good.” He gave a nod. He was an attractive man, muscular and dark-haired with a slight accent. Perhaps in his late twenties. No wedding ring.
What would it be like to kiss him? Josie wondered, watching him walk to another table and noticing his black pants were a touch too tight.
She’d had boyfriends before Frank, of course. A serious one during her senior year in high school, and two more in college. Plus there had been a handful of other guys she’d made out with after meeting them at frat parties or bars. But her other physical encounters were so distant in her mind that recalling them was like remembering a scene from a movie. She could visualize the setting, but she couldn’t access the sensations.
The waiter brought her wine along with a small dish of mixed black and green olives. “On the house,” he said as he laid them down in front of her. She smiled as she thanked him.
“How is the wine?” he asked.
Josie took a sip. “Delicious.”
It wasn’t her imagination. The waiter was lingering at her table. Had he noticed her awareness of him? Perhaps she was giving off pheromones announcing her availability.
She’d stopped looking at men as possibilities many years ago. That part of her had felt closed off. If she kissed the waiter—or anyone—would she think of Frank?
Josie felt certain she would, even now. Especially now.
Another diner gestured for the waiter, and he moved on. Josie selected a plump green olive and leaned back. Nearby, a family—father, mother, and teenaged daughter—were eating together. Josie studied them, noticing how the mother carried the conversation. The father’s head was bent low as he focused on his dinner, and the daughter’s phone was partially hidden under her napkin.
Josie couldn’t hear her words but could sense the effort the mother was putting into trying to engage her family. The mother lifted the breadbasket, offering it to the others, then served her husband a bit of her entrée. He barely looked at her.
Jerk, Josie thought. Perhaps he was having an affair, too.
She wondered how she and Frank and the girls had appeared to others in public. Not a perfect family—Izzy had a tendency to throw tantrums—but a good enough one. Frank was an expert at cajoling Izzy back into a good mood. He was a touchy-feely guy, too; he often reached for Josie’s hand or wrapped an arm around her.
They probably looked happy, Josie thought. If she had been able to step outside of her body and regard the four of them objectively, she was sure that would have been her conclusion: a happy family.
They had probably appeared that way the entire time Frank was conducting his affair.
A loud ding sounded from within her purse. Josie reached for her phone, but the only texts on it were ones she’d already seen earlier that day: a few from Karin, asking whether she was okay (I’ll call you soon, Josie had replied), and one from the room mother in Zoe’s class, reminding parents to check the lost-and-found basket because it was nearly full.
This sound had originated from Frank’s iPhone.
As she pulled it out of her purse, Josie noticed her hand was shaking, which angered her. Your fault, Frank, she thought. He was the one who’d thrust her onto this dangerous island, where lattes and hotel rooms and iPhones had become monsters.
The text was from a neighbor named Ryan, a guy they’d known for years: Bro, you on for poker at my place Thurs?
Josie felt some of the tension leave her body as she slipped the phone back in her purse. Before she gave it back to Frank, she’d need to scroll through his contact lists, taking note of any women’s names.
But not tonight. She’d taken in all she could endure for one day.
Josie’s eyes flitted around the restaurant, alighting on the romantic young couple leaning toward each other over the votive candle in the center of the table; the laughing, rowdy group of five women; and the older man alone near the corner. He was the other single diner. His head was bent over a newspaper, but he looked up with a smile when a waitress delivered his dessert.
How many people in this restaurant had cheated, or were cheaters? Josie wondered. There must be statistics somewhere; she was certain she’d read them. The number was shockingly high, as she recalled—maybe 50 percent, or even 70. So most of the people in this restaurant probably had been affected by an affair.
It was one of the most depressing things Josie had ever contemplated.
The flirtatious waiter swung by her table. “Another glass of wine?” Josie looked down, not realizing she’d finished it.
“Sure,” she said.
The waiter probably had a girlfriend, too. Perhaps he gave free olives to all the women who dined alone in his section.
She had known the odds. Why had she ever thought she could be immune from this epidemic?
Stupid, she chastised herself. She hadn’t wanted to believe it. She’d been like a little kid playing hide-and-seek, covering only her head, leaving herself completely exposed.
When the waiter brought her a fresh glass of wine along with her salad, she avoided his eyes.
A moment later her cell phone vibrated on the table. Her home number showed on the display.
She let the call go to voice mail, then immediately checked the message in case Frank was calling to say something was wrong with the kids.
Mommy?
It was Zoe.
I just wanted to say good night . . . and that I love you.
Josie stared down at her phone, feeling tears well up in her eyes.
She had always tried to put her kids first—what mother didn’t? She’d bought them organic baby food and she’d covered the sharp-edged slate around the fireplace with soft padding, she’d soothed her girls through nightmares, she’d talked to the teachers when a mean girl had made fun of Zoe’s hair and tried to get other kids to join in.
Her central purpose was to be the protector of her children. To be there for them.
Right now Zoe needed her.
But Josie couldn’t call back her daughter to wish her good night because she worried that when she heard Zoe’s sweet, high voice she’d break down in tears.
She stuck the phone back in her purse, tallying this fresh wound with the others Frank had caused.
As she picked up her fork and toyed with a lettuce leaf, an image came to her, of the last time Zoe had been upset. The same mean girl who had made fun of her hair, telling Zoe the short cut made her look like a boy, had excluded Zoe from a birthday party. Only five kids were invited, so it wasn’t a big deal—except to Zoe. She’d cried when she’d come home from school that day.
And Frank had left work a little early after Zoe had called him to report the slight. He’d taken Zoe out for frozen yogurt, letting her pile on so many sugary toppings that Zoe had trouble remembering them all when she recounted the evening to Josie. Then he’d bought her a Wii and a dance party game to go along with it.
“A Wii?” Josie had been torn between anger and understanding when Zoe came in, her cheeks flushed with excitement, carrying the box. They’d planned to buy the girls one for Christmas—which was two months away.
“I know, I know.” Frank had turned those root beer eyes on Josie. “My girl was so sad. I couldn’t stand it.”
Josie had shaken her head, half exasperated at Frank. And half enamored with him.
Frank was a fixer.
Josie realized she was fidgeting with her wedding and engagement rings, rubbing her left thumb along the hard metal.
She speared the piece of lettuce and forced herself to chew and swallow it even though she felt nauseous. Her girls needed her to be strong for them. And Josie needed to be strong for herself, so she could resist Frank.
>
Because she knew he would do everything in his power to fix them.
* * *
Chapter Nine
* * *
TODAY WAS THE LAST day of discovery, Josie thought. Tomorrow Frank would return to work. He’d talk to Dana. Whatever else was going to come out would emerge today.
She’d managed to get a little sleep last night, even though she had been dreading the darkness, certain her mind would torment her once she finally stilled her body. When she’d returned from the restaurant, she’d watched a silly game show on TV in which contestants ran around a supermarket, filling up carts with the most expensive items possible. At one point during the show, she’d glanced at the nightstand, where her iPhone rested next to Frank’s. She’d reached over and pushed Frank’s onto the carpet, where she couldn’t see its glowing blue screen. Then, around eleven thirty, she’d rolled onto her side and drifted off. She’d slept straight through until four thirty, awakening in the exact same position, as if she hadn’t moved at all during the night.
Yet she still felt exhausted, so depleted she wondered whether she was coming down with the flu. Her limbs ached heavily and her sinuses were stuffy. She’d taken a hot shower around five, then she’d put on the hotel robe and had curled back up in bed.
She knew she needed to get organized, to make a plan. She imagined Frank closing the door to his office tomorrow morning and cupping his hand around the phone receiver as he whispered to Dana. They’d compare notes as they crafted a story to minimize the repercussions of their affair. Josie needed to squeeze every bit of truth possible out of him before that happened tomorrow.
But her body refused to cooperate. It kept her tethered to the bed, where she spent the morning listlessly watching a Jennifer Aniston comedy. At around ten, she ordered room service, selecting eggs Benedict, which she adored but rarely had the chance to enjoy. She hadn’t been able to eat much last night, and she told herself she’d feel better when she had something in her stomach.
The Ever After Page 8
