Little Secrets(29)

“Sal,” a voice calls out, and they both turn. The server with the tight jeans is watching them from the kitchen entrance. “Wine delivery. He said he needs a signature.”

“So sign for it,” he calls back, annoyed. “That’s Ginny,” he says to Marin in a low voice. “She’s getting annoying. You said three months? I don’t know if we’re gonna make it three weeks.”

“How many times have you slept with her?”

“Only twice.” He looks offended. “But now I think she’s got feelings.”

“Well, you always were fantastic in bed.”

Sal throws his head back and laughs. It makes Marin feel better to hear it, to know that she can still make someone sound that way.

“Sal,” Ginny calls again. “The wine.”

He disappears into the back room long enough for Marin to order an Uber, and returns just in time to catch her as she’s wobbling off her barstool. The room spins, and she nearly keels over. He grabs her, and props her up.

“Christ, you’re shitfaced. It’s not even four o’clock.”

“Achievement unlocked,” she says, and her words are slurring. “I ordered an Uber. Be here in three minutes.”

He takes her phone out of her hand. The Uber app is still open, and he cancels her ride. “I’m driving you home. Give me your keys.”

She digs them out of her pocket and hands them over. “Are you sure you’re not needed here?” she asks as they make their way to the door. The floor is rippling. She moves to hug him, but she’s sloppy and she ends up draping herself all over him. From across the room, Ginny is shooting daggers at them with her eyes, and Marin waggles her fingers at her. The other woman doesn’t wave back.

“Ginny,” Sal calls to her, “I’m out for the day. When Tommy gets in, remind him I’m heading up to the farmhouse tonight.” Tommy is his head cook and assistant manager.

“When are you coming back? We’ve got—”

“I’m back when I’m back,” he snaps.

Chastised, Ginny’s head drops.

“You didn’t say you were going to Prosser,” Marin says, leaning against him. It feels and sounds like there are cotton balls in her mouth.

“Last-minute decision.”

“Tell your mom hello. I miss her so much.”

Sal barks a laugh. “Now I know you’re wasted.”

He helps her into the passenger seat of the Porsche and buckles her seat belt. He fumbles with it for a moment, and as he’s leaning across her, she inhales. Soap and water, and shampoo. Same smell. Same Sal. The scent of him is comforting. He’s comforting. She feels safe. She closes her eyes.

She sleeps.





Chapter 9


It feels like only a second later when Sal wakes her up. Marin must have passed out hard, because when she opens her eyes, they’re in the driveway of her house, and Sal is once again leaning across her, unbuckling her seat belt.

He helps her out of the car and up the steps to the front door, propping her up again while she tries to remember the code. She hardly ever uses the front entrance. She and Derek park in the garage and enter the house through the mudroom, which is rarely locked. The first attempt, which she remembers too late is her ATM card pin, causes the little light to blink red. The second attempt, their wedding anniversary, also fails.

And then she remembers. The door code is Sebastian’s birthday, and an overwhelming wave of grief hits her as she enters the number into the keypad and the light finally flashes green.

“What?” Sal asks, feeling her sag against him. “What is it? You going to be sick?”

“No.” She’s not going to be sick. She never throws up, at least not from drinking. Not anymore. “Can you help me up to the bedroom?”

He shuts and locks the door behind them. She kicks off her shoes and shrugs out of her coat, leaving both on the floor of the foyer. Sal helps her up the long, winding staircase and into the bedroom, where she plops onto the bed and closes her eyes. The room is still spinning, but she’s a bit clearer than she was when they left the bar.

Sal sits beside her, and she leans against his shoulder. She likes the way he feels. So solid. So present.

“Do you have to rush off?” she asks, aware that they’re both on the bed. But she doesn’t want to be alone. She’s always alone these days.

“No,” he says, resting his cheek on her head. “I can hang for a bit.”

She settles into him, wanting to lie down with him, but of course that would be wholly inappropriate. They’re already close to crossing a line as it is.

“Remember when I said I know a guy?” he murmurs, stroking her hair, which has fallen in messy strands across her forehead. Maybe it’s because they’re alone in the quiet bedroom, but his voice gives her the shivers. It’s husky, intimate, a voice she hasn’t heard him use with her since she was his girlfriend. It excites her, and she feels a tingle, but it’s probably just the alcohol making her feel this way. “I wasn’t kidding, Mar. I do. And he can take care of this problem for you.”

“Stop. I was joking.” She tries to pull back to look up at him, but his arms are strong, well-muscled. They don’t budge when she tries to extract herself from his embrace.