The Golden Couple(22)
“Well, you see, they used a Venmo account. It was paid by @Pier1234.”
Could Pier be a name, or does it refer to the structures by the water? Marissa finds a pen in her console and scribbles the handle down on the back of an old gas receipt that’s floating in her purse.
“Wouldn’t the person’s name be on the Venmo account, though?”
“Not if they don’t want it to be,” Cathy replies. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer!”
Marissa closes her eyes briefly. “Thanks so much. They really are beautiful.” She glances at the arrangement next to her on the passenger’s-side floor, the water drained from the vase and the flowers’ stems wrapped in a damp paper towel. Their aroma is filling her car, just as it filled the kitchen this morning.
She steps out of her car and enters CVS, quickly finding the correct aisle and picking up an early-pregnancy test, then she uses the self-checkout register before hurrying back to her car.
Not until she is walking into Coco, flowers in hand, does she realize she forgot to ask her other question: If Bloom closed at 6:00 P.M., why did the flowers arrive so much later? Calling Cathy back seems a bit nutty. Besides, it’s possible the delivery service runs much later than the store itself.
“Good morning,” Marissa calls out to Polly, who is stacking a pile of patterned cocktail napkins on a little table by the register.
“Morning!” Today Marissa’s young assistant is wearing an emerald-colored dress accessorized with a woven leather belt. Marissa once told Polly green suited her perfectly, and ever since then, Marissa has noticed Polly’s wardrobe slowly expanding with items in those shades. Marissa feels a tinge of guilt for the way she reacted to the window display; Polly’s intentions are good, and besides, isn’t imitation supposed to be a form of flattery?
“Ooh, those flowers are so pretty!”
Marissa smiles. “They’re for you. Sorry I was snippy yesterday.”
“Oh my gosh, are you serious? You didn’t need to do that.”
“I insist.” Marissa hands Polly the arrangement. “Take them home after work. But they may be a little thirsty now.”
Polly hurries off to fill the vase with water as Marissa pulls out her phone.
She stares down at the last unanswered text she sent Matthew, inviting him to bed. She’d placed the roses on the kitchen counter right before she’d gone to take her bath, but this morning, the arrangement was centered on the desk of the little office she used upstairs. Matthew must’ve moved them.
She slowly types a new message to him: Hope you’re having a good morning. Think I figured out who sent the flowers: They were a thank-you for all the work I’m doing on the school auction.
Matthew will never verify it with Natalie; his pride won’t allow that.
It isn’t an outright lie, Marissa assures herself as her finger hovers over the little arrow that will send the text to her husband. In any case, she did it to save Matthew from any more pain. She loves him. She wants to repair their marriage; her heart is in the right place.
CHAPTER NINE
AVERY
I DON’T BELONG TO A GYM. I’ve always preferred to exercise in solitude: running and biking outside, lifting light weights at home, and stretching using my favorite yoga app. Yet here I am, exiting Pinnacle Studio with my umbrella in hand and a pass for a free one-week trial offer tucked in my bag. I won’t be buying a membership, which I know will disappoint the chipper young man who just spent a half hour talking up the gym’s special features and wide array of classes. I just need to get a feel for the place.
Marissa frequents the Pilates classes at this gym, which is located in almost a straight line down Connecticut Avenue from their home into northwest D.C. She likes to take them at least twice a week. It’s not that I plan to spend hours at Pinnacle with the expectation that I’ll bump into my new client chatting up the guy she slept with, but something I notice at this gym may inform the techniques I utilize in my sessions with Marissa and Matthew. And though it’s highly possible Marissa might be avoiding her gym altogether now, I’ve learned that the people who seem straightforward can surprise you most.
In my new role as a ten-session fixer, I cast a lot of lines. Usually one gets a tug.
I wonder if Matthew is also tempted to check out the clientele at his wife’s gym, since our inquiries seem to be overlapping this morning. When I called Bloom at 10:15 A.M., the woman who answered the phone laughed and said, “What’s up with these flowers? You’re the third person to call, and I can only tell you what I told each of them. The roses were ordered through a Venmo account and I have no idea who sent them.”
Marissa and Matthew, I’d thought as I hung up the phone. They’re the only other ones who would have phoned.
I pause at the street corner, taking a step back—to avoid getting splashed as a bus rolls through a big puddle, then cross with the light and reach my car. It’s broad daylight, and I’m parked at a meter on the side of a busy road. Still, I reflexively check the back seat before closing my umbrella and climbing in.
I rub my hands together for warmth, then pull out my phone. There’s one more thing I need to do before I head to the shelter to pick up Romeo.
I tap out a message to Marissa and Matthew: Here’s an assignment for you. Go on a date tomorrow night—alone. Pick a quiet restaurant. Reminisce about how you met, and what made you fall in love. Go back to those early days and try to relive them.