Little Secrets(27)

He studies her. “So … what’s different about it this time?”

This time. He means the affair. Because there was one other time, a long time ago.

“She’s twenty-four,” Marin says. “And it’s been going on for six months.”

“Fuck.” Sal draws the word out, and that’s how she knows it’s as bad as she thinks it is. Fuuuuuuck. He grabs another fry and munches on it furiously. This little gesture alone makes her feel a bit better. A true friend is someone who stress-eats with you even though the stressful thing isn’t happening to them.

She reaches for her phone and shows him the nude selfie. “She has pink hair.”

He takes the phone from her and looks closely at the photo, his eyes widening slightly. His jaw twitches, and for a second she assumes he’s angry. But then he chuckles.

“This is funny to you?” she snaps.

“I’m sorry.” He chokes back another laugh and hands her back the phone. “It’s just … the hair. The tats. It’s like he’s trying to find the exact opposite of you.”

“She’s beautiful.”

He waves a hand. “So are you. That’s not the point. That’s not the point of any of this.”

“Stop smiling. This is not okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, and his smile fades. He puts his hands on her shoulders and shakes her. “It’s not okay at all. So why are you here? Why are you not, right this moment, sitting in front of a divorce attorney discussing how to get the fuck out of this marriage?”

She doesn’t answer. Because she doesn’t know the answer. Her brain hasn’t yet caught up to her emotions.

It’s funny how life can blow up in a matter of minutes. One minute, you have a son. The next minute, he’s gone. One minute, your husband is faithful. The next, he’s screwing a twenty-four-year-old, and you’re wondering if your best friend actually knows a guy. Because if anyone knows a guy, it’s Sal.

He pats her thigh. “Okay. Time to make a plan. I’ll help. Want to crash with me for a few days while you figure things out? The condo has a spare room, sheets are clean. You’d have your own bathroom.”

“Stop. I can’t think that far ahead.”

“He’s an asshole.”

“He’s also my husband.”

“He’s a liar and a cheat.”

“He only lies about cheating.”

“That you know of. Stop defending him.”

“He’s Sebastian’s father.”

“So? That’s not enough.” Sal’s voice is pained. “You can’t use your son as an excuse anymore.”

“I still love him.”

“So what?” His voice explodes, and the few heads in the bar turn in their direction. The new server watches them from the far end, her face knotted in suspicion and concern. It probably looks to her like Marin and Sal are having a lovers’ quarrel, the way they’re sitting so close to each other, their discussion emotional and heated. “Where has love ever gotten you? You ask me, Mar, love is way overrated. Fuck love. We should be with people we like. And trust.”

“Like you? Sleeping with the new waitress?” Marin turns and gives the new server a pointed glance, then raises an eyebrow at Sal. He leans back, surprised she figured it out. Of course she did. She knows Sal. “You like her, huh? Which will last, what, a few months, tops, until she ends up quitting because you’ve moved on to the next one and now it’s awkward to work together? You’re always one bad breakup away from a sexual harassment lawsuit, my friend. What the hell do you know about marriage, or commitment, or relationships?”

Sal visibly deflates, sagging onto his barstool like she let the air out of his tires. Marin regrets her words instantly. She bit back too strongly, and it’s not okay, because Sal isn’t trying to hurt her. Despite the tough exterior, Sal is as sensitive as they come. He never got married, never had children, and it’s a sore spot she shouldn’t have poked.

“I’m sorry.” Marin takes his hand. He lets her hold it, and a few seconds later, he gives her palm a squeeze. He heals as fast as he hurts, thank god. “I’m a bitch. That wasn’t about you. You didn’t say anything you haven’t said before.”

“Yeah, and I keep hoping one of these days you’ll actually hear me.” The expression on his face reminds her of how he looked when he asked her to come back to him in college and she told him she was dating Derek. Puppy-dog eyes. Downturned mouth, now surrounded by salt-and-pepper scruff. “You’ve always been too good for him, and I hate that you don’t know that. He did this to you before, and there weren’t any consequences, which is why he knows he can do it again.”

“Wow, thanks, Sal.” She dropped his hand. “Blame the woman. So it’s my fault he’s cheating?”

“No.” Sal thumps a hand on the counter. “But it’s your fault you’re staying. He cheated on you the first time while you were pregnant. Who does that? And yet you stayed. You had Sebastian. And now here you are again. Come on, Mar. Who knows how many others there are? Ones that you don’t know about, and never will.”

Sal’s honesty is like a sledgehammer. Blunt force trauma to the heart, no bullshit, no wasted movements, no needless words.