Always the Last to Know(91)



She hated entertaining. Hated it. Hated trying to be friends with people who didn’t reciprocate (okay, yes, Saanvi had invited her over once, but Juliet had to go to Dubai for two nights, and other than the very occasional glass of wine in New Haven, which was always Juliet’s initiation, Saanvi never asked again, except for maybe suggesting something vague earlier). Juliet shouldn’t have thrown this party. She should’ve spent the night sitting in the hot tub and watching a movie. Which she never did anymore, but still.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in love, exhale insecurity, as her meditation app told her to do. Another thing she’d let slide.

What was happening? She’d followed all the rules, but here she was, in her closet, and there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

But the partners were here, and Arwen was here, and Kathy, too, somewhere, and she had to put on a strong, confident front and show them that she was one hundred percent together. She was going to have to push for partner at DJK. Until the past six months, that had been almost a given. No other architect there had as many successful projects under their belts. No one had brought in as many clients. Partnership would guarantee her income for life. No one would be able to touch her. Even if Arwen eventually got on the partnership track, that would be fine. That would be fantastic, because two women partners would mean equal representation.

If she didn’t make partner, though . . .

Not a tolerable thought.

She stood up, went into the bathroom, cleaned up her makeup, put on some bright red lipstick, and changed into a flowing black jumpsuit and the fat diamond earrings Oliver had given her for their tenth anniversary.

“You are a successful, confident woman,” she said, ignoring the tremor in her hands. “This is your party. Your beautiful home. Your wonderful husband. Your healthy children. You made this all happen. You belong here.”

She went back to the party and pretended not to mind that Arwen was making Dave and Edward laugh uproariously, pretended not to see the woman who’d been close-talking with Oliver was at his side again, pretended not to care that Sadie was having a great time with people Juliet had met first but didn’t really know. She endured. For the next four hours, she sucked it up, buttercup. That’s what her life was about these days. Making it through the day until it was acceptable to go to bed.



* * *



— —

When the party was finally, finally over and the high school girls had done their best to clean up, and Sloane and Brianna were sound asleep, Oliver poured her a glass of chardonnay (thank God, because the rosé had been utterly insipid). They sat down in the sky room, since the mosquitoes were out in force on the deck.

“Great party, hon,” she lied.

“I didn’t think so.” His voice was uncharacteristically tight.

“What? Why?”

“Where the hell did you go? You were missing for at least a half hour! Kathy was looking for you, and I had no idea where you were. Saanvi and Vikram had to leave without saying goodbye, and I had no cash to pay Riley, and the entire time, I couldn’t find you. What is going on, Juliet?”

If she were a porcupine, all her quills would be up and ready.

“I had to change,” she said.

“Why?”

“I . . . spilled something on my dress.”

“And it took you all that time? You’re lying. Why are you lying to me?”

She pressed her lips together.

Oliver crossed his arms. “For months, you’ve been at bits and pieces, Juliet. Before your father’s stroke, before Sadie came back. You’re hardly here anymore even when you’re sitting right in front of us. You’re constantly distracted, and believe me, I’ve noticed. So have the girls.”

Whatever had been holding her together snapped, and it felt huge and delicious and black. She jolted to her feet, sloshing her wine.

“How dare you, Oliver? How fucking dare you? You’re damn right I’m distracted. I’m fucking terrified. I’ve given everything to everyone, and my everything is a lot, not to blow my own horn. But somehow, that’s never enough.”

He started to speak, but she cut him off. “Do you know how hard I try, Oliver? Do you? You think it’s easy to have my job and work full-time and still be here for the girls and still bake those fucking gluten-free vegan cupcakes and take Brianna to lacrosse and Sloane to violin and work on Sloane’s reading and make sure we have downtime and organize the meal calendar and serve on committees and have sex with you at least twice a week? I have to be at a hundred percent all the time on every front, and it’s fucking hard!”

His mouth hung open. “Darling,” he began.

“And you, Oliver, you get to be the nice parent, the perfect husband with all the women just waiting for a crack in our marriage so they can slide in, and you think I didn’t notice that slut hanging all over you tonight? Who is she?”

“What? Who? No one was—”

“Oh, sure. You’re so fucking clueless. Next thing you know, you’ll be cheating. Just like my father.” Tears were streaming down her face, and the breath was ripping in and out of her.

“Cheating? Me?”

“I’m tired, Oliver! I can’t do this anymore! I can’t be perfect and work and shower and pretend to like salmon so the girls will eat it. I hate salmon! I got a warning tonight to pretend I’m not Arwen’s boss because it offends her, and she gives good press! My father’s a lump, my sister lives in her own little world, and I’m watching my mother fade away. What am I going to do if she dies? I have no friends! Brianna hates me, Sloane’s behind in school, and I’m outranked at work by someone eleven years younger than me! I feel like I’m screaming and no one can hear!”

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