The Family Next Door(65)

She was still sitting in her chair a few minutes later when she heard the knock at the door. That was a surprise. Lucas still had his key, why wouldn’t he just let himself in? Perhaps he was setting a boundary. I don’t live here anymore. From now on, I knock.

She opened the door. Lucas’s cheeks were pink and it wasn’t just the heat. He looked like he’d been crying. Another surprise. “Lucas,” she said. “For goodness’ sake. Come inside.” She led him back into the front room. The boys were in the lounge room out back, engrossed in their game. Without being directed to do so, Lucas fell into his armchair and dropped his head into his hands.

“Come, now,” she said. “You don’t want the boys to see you like this.”

“I’m sorry, Ange,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

Ange reluctantly put an arm around him. There were many bizarre things about finding out your husband had an illegitimate child, she realized, not least of which was patting his back while he sobbed in your front room. “I never wanted this to happen,” he said. “I want to keep our family together.”

“Shh,” she said watching for the boys. She hadn’t expected this level of upset. He hadn’t been this upset after Josie. As much as she didn’t want to buy into it, Ange found it giving her hope.

“This wasn’t the first time, Lucas,” she said, to herself as much as to him.

“I know,” he said, looking up. His face was anguished. Infuriatingly, it made him look even more handsome. “I can’t explain it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The words were surprisingly healing. It occurred to Ange that for years, she’d felt like Lucas’s infidelity meant something was wrong with her.

“You never did anything to deserve a husband like me. You were so … so—”

“I wasn’t pregnant.”

Lucas stilled. Even his tears appeared to halt halfway down his cheeks. “What?”

“With Ollie. I told you I was pregnant because I knew you were going to leave me for Josie.”

Lucas scoffed, dismissing her admission out of hand. “But you were pregnant. We had Ollie.”

“Remember how much sex we had after our reunion, Lucas? I got pregnant pretty quickly. Within a few weeks.”

Lucas stared at her. She could tell from his face that he still didn’t get it. Of all his wonderful qualities, Lucas had never been quick.

“So you weren’t pregnant,” he said slowly. “But you said you were so I wouldn’t leave you.”

Congratulations, darling, she thought. You finally got there.

“Yes.”

It was surprisingly therapeutic, airing all these truths. Ange exhaled back into her chair, feeling the weight of the secret leave her. Lucas stood up and walked to the mantel.

“Okay,” he said turning to face her. “I forgive you. And I have to ask … would you consider … forgiving me?”

Lucas didn’t look quite so desperate anymore, Ange noticed. Her admission had been therapeutic for him too. After all, they were equals again now, weren’t they? He’d lied; she’d lied. Now they could bury the hatchet. Even-stevens. She knew that was what he was thinking, because she knew everything about Lucas. Ange thought back to the day in the store. The two plaid chairs side by side. The imaginary children and grandchildren in their laps. She thought about forgiveness. How much was too much in a marriage? How much was not enough?

Ange heard the thunder of feet in the hallway.

“Dad!” Ollie cried, tearing into the room. “Will! Dad’s here!”

A mass of head rubs and sweaty hugs followed while Ange looked on. If the boys noticed their father’s face was tearstained, they didn’t show it—they were too busy telling him the level they’d made it to on the Xbox. Little narcissists.

“Can we have pizza for dinner?” Ollie asked him. “Mum let us have pizza yesterday.”

He met Ange’s eyes over the tops of their heads. She might have been imagining it, but it looked like he was giving her an admonishing look. “Two nights in a row?” he said. “That sounds a bit—”

“Great idea,” Ange said. “Hawaiian for me.”

Ollie and Will gave each other the side-eye. “Hawaiian? But—you and Dad always get Greek salad or fish. You never eat pizza.”

They weren’t wrong. Ange tried to remember the last time she’d eaten pizza. Probably back in college. Definitely sometime before she’d met Lucas. Before she started drinking the Kool-Aid about her body being her temple. Before she started trying to maintain a body that would stop her husband from straying. Fat lot of good it had done her.

“Well, guess what?” she said. “I eat pizza now.”





50


BARBARA


The road in front of Barbara was hazy from the heat. The wind had picked up. Barbara could feel it all around them, pushing and pressing the car as though trying to sweep them off the road. Barbara glanced at Mia in the rearview mirror, staring boredly at her lap, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. Her features—her reddish hair, her clear blue eyes, her delicate build—were so at odds with Barbara’s own. It was so obvious and yet, Barbara hadn’t paid much attention to it before.