Little Secrets(31)
He’s not a college kid anymore. And neither is she.
They find each other again, tangling in the sheets, until a moment later when he pulls back and asks, chest heaving, “Do you have anything?”
It takes her a few seconds to understand what he’s asking. It’s been so long since anybody’s asked her that question. She hasn’t used any kind of birth control since she was probably in her late twenties, when she and Derek started actively trying for a baby.
“No, I don’t.” She pulls him back to her. “It’s fine.”
It took four rounds of IVF and a hundred thousand dollars to have Sebastian. She’s not worried about what might happen today. All she knows is she needs this, more than she’s needed anything or anyone in a long time.
Sal enters her slowly, his gaze fixed on hers, and it feels so good to be filled up, to not be empty anymore. She loses herself in him, and it’s better than she remembers. They’re both better than she remembers. Tender at the start, animalistic near the end, and exactly what she needs.
He’s pulling his pants back up as she’s falling asleep in the messy bedsheets. It’s getting dark outside now. He leans over and kisses her lips, and it’s long and lingering, filled with unspoken words and a desire for her that she now understands never really waned but was only suppressed. She kisses him back, all the while knowing that this will be the last time they’ll ever kiss like this. When they broke up all those years ago, they didn’t know that their last kiss was the last one.
But today, Marin knows. This can’t happen again.
“I love you,” he whispers.
She smiles at him in the dim light and strokes his face. “I love you.”
They’re the exact same words, but they mean totally different things.
* * *
An hour later, when she’s woken up by the soft ping of her phone, the bedroom is dark. It’s not the Shadow app. It’s her regular iMessage. Derek has finally bothered to check in, and Marin props herself up on her elbow to read his text.
Hey, I’m delayed in PDX another night, invited to dinner with the investors. Wish I could say no. I’ll be home tomorrow night instead.
Lies. Lies lies lies. He’s not in Portland. He probably just got to the hotel here in Seattle, whichever one is their “favorite.”
No worries, she responds. This is why they pay you the big bucks.
I’ll be home in time for dinner tomorrow, promise, Derek texts. Make a reservation anywhere you want to eat. I’ll surprise you with something nice ?.
The stupid thing is, he really will. His last trip to Portland, he came back with a pair of knee-high Valentino boots for her. It wasn’t her birthday. It wasn’t Christmas. He’d spied them in the window at Nordstrom and bought them for her “just because.” What would it be this time? How much will he spend to alleviate his guilt?
Assuming he feels any guilt at all. He’s not like Marin, where guilt is her default setting, coloring everything she thinks, and feels, and does. She feels the rage coming back, seeping through her pores. She welcomes it. Rage cuts through all the bullshit and confusion. Rage untangles her, making everything clear.
She reaches for her phone and calls Sal. When he answers, it takes a second for the Bluetooth to connect, which is how she knows he’s in the car.
“Hey,” she says. “You on the road?”
“I am. What’s up?” he says, and in those four short words, it already feels different between them. It’s like he’s bracing himself for what she’s going to say about what they did, but she can’t get into that yet.
“I want to meet your guy,” she says. “Assuming you were serious.”
His response is almost immediate, and it’s not, Mar, I was kidding, as she’s half-expecting. Instead it’s “No need. I can talk to him for you.”
“No.” She walks to the bedroom window and looks outside. The sun has set, and the trees are just shadows in the backyard. “I need to meet him face-to-face. I’m not doing this if I can’t meet him in person. It’s not right.”
Silence. She knows he heard her because she can still tell he’s on speaker phone.
“Okay, I’ll set it up,” he finally says. “I’m planning to drive back around six tomorrow night, so I should be back a little after nine. I’ll arrange for him to meet us—”
“Not us, me. I need to do this by myself, Sal. As soon as possible, before I lose my nerve.”
She hears what she just said to him, and it occurs to her then that maybe she should wait until tomorrow. Maybe the possibility of losing her nerve is a good thing, because what she’s considering doing is absolutely over-the-top insane.
Seconds pass, with Sal not saying anything. She knows he’s there. She can hear the whirring of the car in motion, like soft white noise, and the slight echo of the Bluetooth connection. She wonders if he’s regretting opening this door, leading her down this path. Sal’s always been a little outside the box, antiauthoritarian, a bit of an outlaw, while Marin’s been straight as an arrow.
“I’ll get back to you,” he says, and after a brief goodbye, full of words unspoken, they disconnect.
An hour later, he sends a text. Midnight tonight. Frankenstein. Sober up.