Slip of the Tongue (39 page)

My heart pounds as I watch the realization dawn on his face. “Nathan—”

His mouth eases apart, then cracks open as his chocolate-brown eyes dart over my face. “
Finn
?” he asks, as if he’s never heard the word.

This is one of the first times in my life I can’t guess his reaction. I see the tension cording his arms, but his expression is cycling through confusion, anger, despair.

“You’ve been . . . with . . . how long has this been going on?” he asks, gulping. “Wait. Don’t tell me.” He looks at the toilet paper roll, the wastebasket, the sea spray-scented hand wash. “When he took your photograph.”

I wring my hands together. “Yes.” I inhale. “We didn’t plan—”

“When was that?
Two weeks
after he got here?” He flares his nostrils like a dragon about to spew fire. “I guess it could be worse. You could’ve done it on move-in day.” As he stares at me, silent, a flush rises from under the collar of his t-shirt, up his neck and cheeks. “Is that where you were last night?”

Guilt I thought I couldn’t feel creeps in. I can’t find the right words. I don’t think they exist. Even though I chose Finn last night, Nathan’s obvious agony feels like a knife between my ribs. I would’ve had to tell him about Finn—and soon. But this isn’t how I wanted him to find out. All I can do is nod.

“So you were
with
him. And then you came back here.”

“Nothing happened last night,” I say as if it’s any kind of defense. “We didn’t . . .”

His chest heaves with each breath. “I don’t understand. If you didn’t sleep with him, are you having an affair or not?”

“Yes, but—last night, it didn’t feel right while . . .” I cover my face. “I can’t explain it. You wouldn’t understand. It’s not just about the sex—”

“Oh,” he scoffs. “No. Don’t fucking tell me that.”

“I was lost, Nathan. Confused. Lonely. You weren’t here, and he was.” I lower my hands. “I turned to him. I cried on his shoulder—over
you
, and he let me. So now . . .”

He grits his teeth, his jaw tensing, as though he’s containing an explosion. “Now? Now
what
?”

It’s difficult to get the words out. My decision to be with Finn is still so new. But I have to say it. I owe Nathan the truth if I expect it in return. “You know this is over,” I say, tears finally flooding my eyes. My love for him isn’t supposed to hurt this much. It feels like it’s killing me from the inside, and it’s starting with my heart in a blender. I never wanted anything or anyone other than him, but he withdrew his love to hurt me, and for what? For me, his reasons are valid, but they don’t excuse his behavior. This is where we are, and it doesn’t have to be this way. I have someone else now. “It’s too hard.”

“
Marriage
is hard.”

“Don’t tell me what marriage is,” I say, raising my voice, disgusted. Ginger whines, nudging Nathan’s leg. “You
abandoned
me.”

“And you fucked someone else.”

I reel back. “No. I care about him.”

“So you’re going to, what, walk away? For
him
? Someone you’ve known less than a month?”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this. I was going to tell you later. But when you said you were mad about something other than the abortion, I thought you were talking about Finn.”

“
Finn
?” he asks, the name slicing from his mouth. His nostrils flare, his face beet red. “You thought you could sit me down, tell me you’re having an affair, and I’d just accept it?”

“No,” I admit. “I figured you’d be—”

“What?” he asks. “Angry?
Furious
?” He grabs the vase. “You didn’t think maybe it’d go something more like
this
?” He launches the lilies across the bathroom. The glass shatters against the wall like a crystal firework, my eardrums bursting, my hand flying over my mouth.

I’m stunned completely still, as if he threw it right at me, but Ginger panics. She takes off, skidding around the tile floor, startled.

I jump out of the shower. “
Nathan
—”

He’s already after her, but she bolts for the door and slides right through glass. Shards fly from under her paws. Nathan curses, chasing her out of the bathroom. I follow, hopscotching through the mess, driven forward by her howling.

In the bedroom, Nathan has his arms around her as he tries to wrestle her onto her back.

Blood is smeared everywhere. It’s so striking against the white carpet that I start to cry. I pull it together and catch one of her flailing legs for a better look, but she wriggles harder.

“Get back,” Nathan says to me. “I’ve got it.”

“No, you don’t. There might be glass in there. She’s bleeding a lot—”

“I can fucking see that,” he snaps. “I have it. Just back off.”

I straighten up and touch my trembling hands to my mouth. The fear in her eyes racks me with guilt.

“Shh, Ginge,” he says, coaxing her onto her side. Her eyes dart all around the room, as if she can’t see us. “Get out of the room,” he says without turning to me. “She can’t focus. You’re making it worse.”

I take a step back, more from shock than anything. To be shoved out like this when Ginger needs me breaks my heart. Nate buries his nose in Ginger’s furry neck, and after a few seconds, her whines soften.

When they’re both calmer, I say, “Nate—”

“Shh. It’s okay,” he says softly. “I just need to see your paw. Be a good girl.”

She’s shaking, and I just want to take her in my arms. We can help her better together, me holding her while he checks for glass. “Nathan,” I try again, “Let me—”

Ginger’s head shoots up, and she starts to writhe out of Nathan’s grip.

“God
damn
it, Sadie,” he says. “I need her calm enough to get her to the vet.”

“How?”

“I’ll carry her if I have to. It’s not far.”

“It’s ten blocks,” I say incredulously. “You need—”

“I don’t need. Not anything. The vet won’t be open yet, so call the emergency line, tell him we’re coming, and stay out of the way. We don’t need you.”

The rock in my throat is so big, it hurts when I swallow. In a daze, I leave the bedroom, but I don’t know where I’m going.
Call the vet
. I go to my purse. My phone isn’t there, and I can’t remember where I left it. I get Nathan’s from the coffee table. From a list we keep stored in the desk, I find the phone number and let them know we’re on the way.

Nathan comes out of the bedroom with Ginger in his arms. “Get the door.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No. I can’t deal with both of you right now.”

“Nathan—”

“Christ, Sadie. I have to get a sixty-pound dog downstairs and into a cab. Can we argue later?”

Fuming, but more worried about Ginger than anything else, I walk over and open the door for him.

“Phone? Keys?” he asks on his way out.

I slide his cell into his jeans, which he somehow managed to get on while subduing her, and then his keys and wallet. “Will you call me when you know?” I ask.

He’s already halfway down the hall, and I have to fight the urge to go after them. My heart aches for Ginger. For Nathan. I know he’s hurt, and though my instinct is to make it better, I’m not sure if I should. Or, at this point, if I even can.

I get to work early, but Howie’s already in his seat next to mine, half hidden by his noise-canceling headphones. “Good look,” he says sardonically and with hardly a glance.

Any other day, I’d laugh. He’s right to call me out. After Nathan left with Ginger, I cleaned up the mess in the bathroom, showered, and packed a bag. My mind spun as I dressed blindly and slicked my wet hair into a bun. I don’t have any meetings today, so I find it hard to care.

Opening Outlook, I start mindlessly e-mailing clients their blog features from the week before. I copy, paste, copy, paste, copy, paste until there’s enough to prove I did my job—last week, at least. I should be excited that an Instagram celebrity posted a picture using IncrediBlast mascara over the weekend. Instead, I catch myself wondering whom she’s getting ready for. Is she married, and if so, does she flaunt her husband like her lashes? Or did she go out with friends, teasing boys, sipping martinis? Ten minutes of scrolling through her Instagram feed, and I’m more caught up on her life than I want to be.

At a quarter to eleven, Amelia arrives from a breakfast meeting. I’m the only one unfocused enough to notice her breeze in. We’re all on our second and third cups of coffee. With a once-over, Amelia nods me into her office.

Without needing to be told, I close the door to give us privacy. I’ve done something wrong—I just don’t know what. Maybe it was simply being the first person to make eye contact with her.

“What’s this?” She drapes her red, check-plaid cape and cashmere scarf over a brass coat rack.

I shift feet. “What’s what?”

“Outfit. Hair.” She sits on the edge of her desk. “Are you even wearing makeup? Not acceptable for this office, Sadie.”

I could argue that I don’t work any harder in cosmetics than I do out of them, but this is the job I signed up for. This morning, I wrote a blurb for US Weekly about a pop star who stays camera-ready by carrying lip-pumping gloss in her cleavage. “I’ll visit the closet,” I say, referring to a small room with emergency designer apparel and sample beauty products.

“Please do,” she says. “I’d have almost preferred you’d called in sick again. Will this thing with your husband affect your work today like it has your appearance?”

I hesitate, which is a mistake.

“I recognize this. I was this,” she says, wiggling a finger up and down my outfit. “The day his affair finally hit me over the head, I fell apart too, but I did it in private. Image is everything in this industry.”

“I understand. I’ll go change. It won’t affect my work.” I go for the door.

“Wait.”

I turn back. “Yes?”

She looks closely at me. Despite her bluntness, I know she cares. “I hope you did the right thing and kicked him to the curb.”

I let my eyes fall. Why, when I was planning to leave Nathan, does it feel like
I
was kicked to the curb?

“Don’t look at the floor, Sadie. Be strong. Excuse his behavior, and he’ll do it again, believe me. Cheaters are selfish. Egoists. You give him another chance, and he’ll walk all over you the rest of the marriage.”

I should stop her, but I’m not sure I don’t deserve to hear the truth about Finn and me.

And Amelia is more than happy to be the messenger. “Do yourselves both a favor and pack your bags. Trust me. He’ll beg—it didn’t mean anything. He loves you, not her. Well, the son-of-a-bitch should’ve considered that when he had her on her back in
my
bed.”

“It was only a couple times,” I say defensively.

“So what if it was one time or a hundred? So what if they were strangers or if they shared their deepest, darkest secrets with each other? He made a fool of you. He betrayed you on the most basic level.”

It’s hard to swallow her words. She’s never held much back, but I think finding a common enemy has made her more candid. How could she know I’m the one she’s railing against?

“That’s the worst part, isn’t it? The lies? The sneaking around?” I ask, and I genuinely want to know. I want to try and understand Nathan. Why he feels I don’t need him. How my excluding him from decisions made him feel left out of our marriage.

She flaps her lips with a
pfft
. “People always say that. The worst part is that he put his dick in another person.”

Amelia paints a vivid picture. If the tables were turned, and Nathan had been inside someone else, I think I’d tear my hair out trying to get the image out of my mind. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I can tell,” Amelia says, happy to get in a jab whenever she can. “Now’s the time to lean on your girlfriends. Shit, lean on me if you need. I don’t do ice cream, but I’ll kill a bottle of Glenlivet with you.” She crosses her arms. “Whatever it takes, do it. Staying together never turns out well.”

Because it’s cold outside, the heater is turned up too high. I play with the collar of my sweater. I think of Finn, who’s made the decision to leave Kendra. Then, of my brother, who’s a single dad. Lastly, I remember all the times my parents brought the house down with their bickering, and how I wished they’d do whatever it took to make it stop, including divorce.

But is that Nathan and me? I thought we were the opposite of all that. I thought we were perfect. If Nathan hadn’t forced me to the edge without anywhere to turn, if I didn’t have Finn waiting in the wings, I don’t think our marriage ever would’ve ended. “I don’t know if I believe that. There must be some couples who make it through infidelity.”

She doesn’t look surprised. “You think?” she asks, checking her nails.

“Maybe something like this can make a relationship stronger. I’m not saying it can ever be considered a good thing, but years down the line, if we’re better off . . .”

She waits for me to continue. “What? You’ll be grateful?”

“More like it’ll bind us in an unbreakable way.”

“I guess that could happen,” she says. “Or—the next time life gets rough, he cheats again. And then what?”

“Well,” I rub my palms over my hips, “it wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do it again.”

She laughs, but there’s nothing about the noise she makes that sounds happy. “That makes sense. You ride off into the sunset, never again to nag him about an unemptied dishwasher or spending too much time with his friends. Beautiful women never deign to tempt him again.” Amelia waves a dismissive hand, her eyes glinting with delight. “Let his mistress deal with him. She’ll be sorry soon enough.”

“Is Reggie dating the woman he cheated with?”

“Of course not!” Amelia throws back her head and howls. “Two weeks in, the bastard was back on my doorstep. She probably refused to clean his shit-stained underwear. Why should she? She didn’t love him. I’m better off.”

She’s better off. Is Reggie? Nathan won’t have any problem meeting another woman, and I’ll have Finn. We’ll all be better off—won’t we? I don’t know if it’s fair that picturing Nathan with someone else, with a whole new family, makes me physically ill.