The Wife Who Knew Too Much(11)

“That’s sad. You and your cousins seemed so close.”

“It looked better from the outside than it actually was. Everybody was nuts.”

He fell silent, concentrating on driving. The dark, narrow road switched back as it climbed, and he took the hairpin turns expertly, the Lamborghini cornering like the exquisite high-tech machine it was.

“This car is amazing.”

“You like it?”

“Love.”

“Check this out.”

Connor grinned and hit the gas. The car leaped, and I squealed as the g-forces slammed me into the seat.

At the top of the mountain, he jammed on the brakes, then swerved onto an unpaved road, kicking up dirt. We bumped along, hitting every rut and hole till my teeth clattered, and we arrived at an elaborate iron gate that slid open as the car approached.

“That was the most fun I’ve had in years,” I said.

“Me, too.”

He sounded sincere, but I couldn’t help doubting. Wasn’t his life normally full of fast cars, private jets, speedboats? The tabloids would have you think so.

We got out. Wind rustled in the pines. I hugged myself against the chill as I followed Connor toward the house. It loomed, enormous and dark at the edge of a precipice, with open air below. I looked up at an eerie yellow moon, hiding behind wispy clouds, then across the valley to the mountains of Vermont, fifty miles away. Involuntarily, I shivered.

“Your friend isn’t home?” I asked.

“I’m borrowing the place. He doesn’t use it in the summertime.”

He unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. Inside, there was a musty chill, like the house had been closed up since last winter. We stood in a two-story great room dominated by an enormous stone fireplace. At the far end, tall windows faced the view. Against the dark of the night, they were black mirrors reflecting my image back at me, tiny and vulnerable in the towering space.

“I’ll find us something to drink,” Connor said, and disappeared.

I walked over to a big leather sectional that faced the fireplace and sat down gingerly. The house was beautifully crafted, with log walls, gleaming floors covered in Navajo rugs, and faux-rustic furniture straight out of a magazine. But you could tell it wasn’t lived-in, and it had a sterile air about it. Connor came back with two crystal glasses and a bottle of scotch. He poured slugs for both of us, then leaned back on the sofa and pointed a remote at the fireplace. Blue flames sprang to life, doing nothing to banish the chill. We clinked glasses. He sighed and took a long pull of his scotch.

“It’s so good to be here with you. I can’t even tell you,” he said.

I didn’t reply. I was trying to decide whether to take him at his word. It meant a lot to me to be here, more than it ever could to him. Or so I thought. Was he playing with me? I had to be careful not to make this into more than it was. I took a sip of the scotch. It tasted smoky and rich.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

“What question?”

“Why you stayed. This town always seemed too small for you. I remember, you were dying to get out and see the world.”

“You made me think that was possible.”

His eyes searched my face. It felt too intense. I looked down at my glass, swirling the scotch, trying to decide how honest to be, how vulnerable. But he wouldn’t let me get away. He reached out and put a finger under my chin, tipping my face up so I was gazing into his eyes. With anyone else, it would’ve felt like a violation. With Connor, it was deep communion.

“But it wasn’t? You can tell me the truth. Even if it’s You and your fucked-up family ruined my life.”

I smiled. “All right, then, yeah. You and your fucked-up family ruined my life.”

“Hah, I asked for that.” His words had a bantering tone, yet he looked genuinely crushed.

“I’m joking,” I said.

“No, you’re not, and that’s okay. I left you hanging. I have a lot of regrets in life, but that’s one of the big ones.”

“Well, you were in a tough spot. Your family was under your grandmother’s thumb.”

“I should have stood up to Nell, but I didn’t have the guts. She terrified me till the day she died.”

“She was a scary lady. That doesn’t make my family’s problems your fault. The recession hit. There were layoffs at the club. Grandma Jean was let go. But we didn’t starve. We had her social security and Grandpa’s disability. When there was no money for college, I went to work. Me, and millions of other kids. It wasn’t a tragedy. Grandpa died. Grandma got sick. I was her only family. I stayed around to take care of her, and I was happy to do it. That’s just life. I did get my associates degree eventually, after she died. I had a good job at the hospital. Things were good, until I went and married the wrong guy—but that was on me.”

I stopped. Connor was watching my face.

“Tell me about your marriage,” he said gently.

“I’d rather not talk about it. It’s behind me, and I like to keep it there.”

“Understood. Then, you’ll relate. Marriage hasn’t been easy for me, either,” he said.

“From what I see in the magazines, you look happy enough,” I said, and instantly regretted giving away the fact that I stalked him online. But he didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t mind.