F*ck Marriage(51)

“It’s been a long time. It’s behind us. I’ve moved on.” I imagine Satcher would snicker at that part if he was here.

“I haven’t,” Woods says.

“You’re getting married,” I remind him.

He licks his lips, staring toward the window. “You only love the rain on your terms. Washington was too much; here is too little.”

He used to say that to me all the time. He’d suggest we move to Seattle and have an adventure and I’d brush him off saying I couldn’t live in constant rain.

“We should live where your eyes match the sky…”

“Why don’t we live where your eyes match the sky.” I’d laugh.

“The Caribbean?”

“Don’t flatter yourself…”

“Despite what you think, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I love—”

My door opens and both of us look up at the same time. Satcher’s face is unreadable as he steps into my office. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, the top buttons of his white shirt open to reveal his collarbone. As soon as he walks in his smell is everywhere. He swallows the room and for a brief moment I forget about Woods.

He walks directly to where I’m sitting, and just like Woods, takes my chin in his hand to examine my eye.

“Nasty shiner.” He breaks the silence.

“You’re telling me. It was like my heart wasn’t beat up enough, let’s give her outward bruises too.”

The dimple appears. He’s always appreciated my dry humor.

“Wait. You did that to her?” Woods looks from one of us to the other.

“Yes. Another thing you and I have in common,” I say brightly. “Black eyes compliments of Satcher Gable.”

“The fuck, Satcher?” Woods says, ignoring my comment.

Satcher barely looks at him. “A moment when you have time, Billie. I’ll be in my office.”

I nod, and he walks out without acknowledging Woods.

Savage.



After lunch, I meander over to Satcher’s office. I’m trying to pretend that whatever he has to say to me isn’t important. When I walk in, he’s sitting behind his desk working, a half-eaten container of salad in front of him.

“What are you working on?” I sit down in the green chair running my fingers over the fabric.

“Now that you’re here I can invest my time into growing my other companies. Thank you, by the way. You did me more of a favor than I did you.”

I shrug. “Rhubarb feels like the only good thing I have left ... even though it’s not mine.”

He has a weird look on his face.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

He leans back, propping his hands behind his head, and stares up at the ceiling.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do,” he says.

“Then why do I get the feeling that’s exactly what you’re going to do?”

His eyes flicker from the ceiling to my face.

“This is still my company, Billie. I care about what happens here. And if Pearl finds out that you’re meeting up with Woods at bars—”

“She’s not going to find out. And it’s not going to happen again,” I rush.

“She has a lot of loyalty with the other employees. If she left, they’d follow her. That could set us behind for months. Not to mention, Woods still has a significant share of Rhubarb; if he wanted to, he could make things very difficult for us.”

“Stop,” I say.

I’m agitated at myself and Satcher. He has no right.

“What I do in my spare time is none of your business.” I stand up. “You don’t have to protect me from Woods! I know how to handle him.”

“I’m trying to protect you from you,” he says.

My mouth goes dry and the tips of my ears tingle like they always do when there’s too much emotion to deal with.

“We never tried to work it out. I ran and it gave him the excuse to take the easy road.”

“God, you’re dense.” He leans back in his chair, tapping a finger on his desk absently. “He should have chased you. None of what happened was on you, Billie. He’s the one who fucked up. There is no excuse for cheating, ever. If he wanted out of your marriage, he could have done that without being a complete fucking scumbag.”

“But he didn’t.” My voice rises. “We all make mistakes. Why do you even care, Satcher?”

I’m livid. I can’t believe Manhattan’s slutttiest man is lecturing me on relationships.

“Because I would have chased you.”

The silence following his declaration is bloated. At first I’m too shocked to respond. When the anger finally catches up to me I stand so abruptly Satcher’s eyes grow wide.

“Fuck you,” I say. “You’re just another man who dropped me for someone else.”

I know it’s awful. I shouldn’t have said it, and it’s definitely not fair considering I was the one who pushed him away. But despite how much of a role I had in his decision to be with Jules, despite how he argued against it—he did it. Left me for her. He has no right to judge Woods.

“I think you should leave,” he says. “You’re not being rational.”