If You Only Knew(26)

“No,” I said. “I definitely don’t.”

“And you’re f*cking gorgeous, Rachel,” she says. I’ve always been both shocked and impressed by her potty mouth. “Edward, if you bite me again, you won’t have any dessert until Christmas.” She turns back to me. “You okay, Rach?”

“Oh, sure,” I say, sliding the door shut. “I just... I don’t know. I guess I’m at the age where I’m getting...”

“Invisible?”

I hadn’t thought of it that way, but there it is. Very few men look at a woman wrangling three toddlers. And I don’t have time to look at them. “Yeah. Invisible.”

“I know how you feel. The other day, this guy at the deli—you know, Gold’s? The short guy with earrings?” I nod. “Well, he handed me my baloney and said, ‘Here you go, beautiful,’ and I was so f*cking grateful! I mean, I used to get that all the time. All the time. And now, nothing. It takes longer and longer to pull off even not bad. Beautiful left on my thirty-fifth birthday. So I wanted to kiss this guy and buy him a car.” She hands Edward a juice box, gives one to Niall and closes the door. “Enjoy it while you still have it. You want to get coffee?”

“Maybe next week,” I tell her. “I think I’ll drop by Adam’s office for lunch.”

I call our babysitter from the car. “Hi, Donna, it’s Rachel Carver.”

“Donna! Donna!” Charlotte shouts happily, and the other girls pick up the chant.

I smile. “I know this is last-minute, but I was wondering if you were free to babysit the girls today.”

“I’d love to,” she says instantly. “When do you want me to come by?”

“Twenty minutes?” I suggest.

Donna Ignaciato is every mother’s dream—a retired widow who lives down the street, loves children and was deprived of her grandchildren when her son moved to Oregon last year. She’s the kind of grandmother my mom is not—hands-on, affectionate, completely at home, the kind of babysitter who will take the laundry out of the dryer and fold it, and leave the girls cleaner and happier than when you left. I haven’t used her much—just when Jenny hasn’t been free, because she loves to spend time with the girls. My mom isn’t the babysitting type. “All of them?” she said when I asked her to watch the kids this past winter. “At the same time?”

“No, Lenore,” Adam said. “We want you to lock two of them in the cellar, and just rotate them out.” I smiled, and Mom whipped out her ultimate guilt answer.

“If your father was alive, we could do it together, but...”

I let her off the hook, as I always do. It’s sort of my job—the softer, more understanding sister. Besides, I’d worry constantly if Mom was in charge.

When Donna gets to the house, the girls swarm her, and I go upstairs and shower. Blow-dry my hair, put on makeup, dress carefully in a pink-and-black-checked dress and pink cardigan, the dangly silver earrings Adam gave me for Christmas, and the trifold, heart-shaped locket that has a picture of each of my girls. A bracelet. Black heels—but low, because it’s daytime. Perfume, even.

Five days ago, I accused my husband of having an affair. And while it’s understandable why I thought what I did—and though he’s very generously let it go—damage has been done.

“You’re pretty, Mama,” Grace says when I come downstairs. She kisses my knee, and I stroke her silky hair.

“I should be back around three,” I tell Donna, who’s already cutting up apple slices for a snack. “Girls, listen to Donna, and have fun, okay? Give Mama kisses!”

I stop at the gourmet shop that’s just around the corner from Jenny’s shop. Maybe I’ll drop by after my lunch, if I have time.

“Can I help you?” the girl asks, and I order Adam’s favorite sandwich, a turkey-and-avocado-and-bacon panini. Broccoli salad. Two green teas. Three chocolate cookies. For myself, a green salad. That pooch of skin is all too clear in my mind.

Brewster, Buckley & Bowman, Attorneys at Law, is in a dignified old building overlooking the Hudson River. It’s on the same block as my father’s old office, which always gives me a pang; I loved visiting him at work, seeing him in his dentist whites.

I go into the venerable lobby of Triple B, which has been around for seventy years and employs more than forty lawyers. They handle everything from divorce to taxes to criminal defense. Adam’s specialty is corporate law; boring the outsider, but quite interesting once you understand what he does. Well. I have to think so. I’m married to the guy.

“Rachel!” the receptionist exclaims when I go into the office. “It’s been too long. You here to see Adam?”

“I brought him lunch,” I say, feeling the start of a blush. You’d think I wouldn’t feel shy; I’ve been coming here for years.

“I’ll just buzz him and let him know you’re here,” Lydia says. “In case he’s with a client.”

“Thank you very much,” I say. I flash another smile, gripping the handles of the deli bag more tightly.

“You don’t have to be so shy, you know,” Lydia says.

Oh, okay. I’ll stop, then. All I was waiting for was you to say that. I know she means well. I smile—awkwardly—and let my eyes slide away.