The Wife Who Knew Too Much(12)

“I must sound like an asshole,” he said.

“You don’t. I didn’t mean to imply that at all.”

I gazed at him, wanting to memorize him, not as he was at nineteen, but now, as a grown man. He put his hand around mine, where I was holding the glass. But I moved away. We were on dangerous ground.

“I’m just saying, my marriage is not the fairy tale it’s made out to be. We got married too fast, before I really knew her. She was beautiful and rich and famous. She turned my head.”

“That happens. I’ve seen her pictures. She is beautiful.”

“It’s not just her, it’s the way she lives. You can’t even imagine. The houses, the cars, the jet, the travel. She has people to do everything for her. Assistants and secretaries, housekeepers, a personal yoga instructor, a stylist, hair and makeup, a driver, chefs. I can’t even count them all. She just has to think something, and it happens. She doesn’t even walk on her own.”

“Walk?”

“Like, she exits a building, and somebody guides her to her car, holding an umbrella if it’s raining. She gets into an elevator, someone else pushes the button, and tells her what floor she’s going to. Her feet don’t touch the ground. She doesn’t so much as flick a light switch. When I’m with her, they do all that for me, and I’ve gotten used to it. Do you understand? It’s a terrible thing to admit. I feel like I sold my soul.”

“Um—I don’t know what to say. I see how that could be very seductive.”

“But you. You were so real. That summer. You were just this—I don’t know—this angel of my youth.”

I laughed. “Angel?”

“Yeah. The long blond hair, the long legs. Always tan.”

“Well, I worked outdoors.”

“I don’t mean to make it just about how you looked. It was so much more. I saw you tonight, and that whole time in my life came rushing back. How messed up I was. Hating my dad, which I still do, by the way. My mother on the verge of a breakdown. I remember, I’d go somewhere, alone with you, and everything would magically get better. Your voice, your laugh. You had magic powers. You could cure me, Tabby. It was so perfect, so simple, what we had. I never found that again. And this thing with Nina—it’s twisted.”

He shook his head, shuddering. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was afraid of the things he said, how they made me feel. I should have told him to stop. But I couldn’t.

“Talking like this, I feel it again. Like we’re still kids. Like I’m still in love for the first time,” he said.

He was looking in my eyes as he said that, and I was sipping the scotch. I started to cough and couldn’t stop. He patted my back.

“I’m okay,” I managed, eyes watering.

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair, unloading my regrets on you. It was my fault, the way things ended. I had no backbone. I wish I could have a do-over. Anything not to’ve hurt you.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“But I’m not over it. If I could recapture that feeling—well, I’d give a lot.”

How could I stay strong when he said things like that? I went there.

“If you’re so unhappy with your wife, why do you stay?”

He hesitated, sipping his drink, gazing into the fire.

“I’m afraid of what she’d do if I left. I don’t know if you know much about Edward Levitt—”

“I know he was famous for his affairs.”

“The way he treated her. He humiliated her publicly. It’s like she has PTSD from it. She’s insecure. Depressed. Suicidal, sometimes. With me, she can’t help it, she’s incapable of trusting. Like, to the point of being paranoid. She believes that I’m cheating on her, that I’m lying, that I’m trying to hurt her. I’m not doing any of those things. But she won’t believe me. It’s almost like she can’t.”

I decided not to mention that dark-haired woman at dinner. He’d claimed she was a business associate, and anyway, if Connor was having an affair, it was really none of my business. It did caution not taking what he said at face value, though.

“What about counseling?” I asked.

“I suggested couples’ counseling. Nina’s been in therapy for years, and the only thing she’d consider was having me see her analyst, separately. I tried. It was useless. He just sat there and said, ‘Hmmm.’”

“What will you do?”

“I’ve tried to show her how devoted I am, to convince her that I’m not Edward, that I would never behave the way he did. But from the beginning, she couldn’t let me breathe. She insisted on knowing where I was every second. She monitored my phone calls. She made me give her the passwords to all my accounts so she could read my emails. I should’ve said no, but I was trying to reassure her. I thought it would help, but it ended up making things worse. The more information she got, the more paranoid she became. Now we’re down the rabbit hole. Every move I make is suspect.”

“That sounds extreme.”

“It is. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t know what to do, Tabby. I really don’t.”

He dropped his head to his hands. He looked so desperate that it got to me. I rubbed his shoulder.