If You Only Knew(29)

“I told you if you ever cheated on me, I’d divorce you,” I say calmly.

“I don’t want a divorce. Think of the girls, Rachel.”

“I always think of the girls,” I hiss, the fury writhing in my stomach. “All I do is think of the girls. Were you thinking of the girls when you f*cked another woman? Hmm? Is that what a great father does?”

“Look. I’m sorry. I really am, Rachel. I was weak. But I don’t want to lose you.”

How I would love to tell him to piss off right now. That there’s no going back from this. That he can talk to my lawyer.

But just the thought of a divorce makes cold fear shoot through my legs. I don’t want a divorce! No adored husband coming through the door every night, no father in the house for the girls, no “Baby Beluga” sung at bedtime. We’d have to separate our things, all our lovely things that have made our house so welcoming and happy. All the pictures of the girls; he’d obviously get to take some with him.

How could I live without things the way they are now?

My rage has been snuffed out by icy-cold terror.

“When you knew I saw the picture,” I whisper, “did you tell her things had to end?”

“No,” he admits. “I haven’t yet.”

The big question is waiting in the back of my throat like bile. “Do you love her?”

He hesitates. “I... No. Not like I love you. But yes, there are...feelings.”

Oh, God.

My temples throb, and I have to force my teeth apart.

I get up to leave. I’ll sleep in the guest room, take a long bath in the tub, maybe get another bottle of wine. Watch Game of Thrones and...and...

I stumble before I even make it out of the living room.

Adam’s arms are around me. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice is rough with tears. “Please don’t make any decisions now. I love you. I love our family. Let’s not throw that away. I made a mistake. I’ll fix this. We can get counseling, or go on vacation, whatever you want. But please don’t leave me. I couldn’t live without you.”

I love him so much. I hate him so much. He picked me—out of all the women who would’ve loved to have been Adam Carver’s wife, he wanted me. We made this beautiful family, this happy life—well, obviously not happy enough that he kept it in his pants, did he?

“I’m going to bed,” I whisper. “I don’t know what I want right now. Except to be alone.”

“Sleep in,” he says. “I’ll get the girls to school tomorrow. I’ll go in late.”

I can’t bear to look at his eyes anymore. Those beautiful caramel eyes that lied so well.

Feeling more tired than I’ve ever felt in my life, I climb the stairs, holding the railing with both hands. Past the picture of my parents on their wedding day. Past the photo of Jenny and me when we were little, dressed in frilly Easter dresses. Past the picture of Adam, smiling hugely, his eyes wet as he holds three little burritos with pink caps.

Past our wedding photo. Me, in that stunning, amazing dress Jenny made for me, looking more beautiful than I ever knew I could, smiling at Adam with such adoration and...and...gratitude that it makes me sick.

Without thinking, I take the photo off the wall and toss it down the stairs behind me, the sound of glass shattering on tile bright and clear.

“Rachel.” His voice is hard and sharp.

I look down the stairs.

“Before you break anything else, just...just make sure you know what you want. Think about our life together, and what life would be like apart.” His voice softens. “Our marriage is worth fighting for. I screwed up, I admit that. But it would be smart to go slowly here.”

I turn around again and go into the guest room and close the door.

It seems I’ve just been warned.

Jenny

“Oh, God,” Andreas says. “Look at the hordes. This is awful.” Though he threatens weekly to quit, I don’t think he will, despite the reverse commute to the city. Who else would let him work on his novel during work hours?

“Hordes are good, Andreas,” I say patiently, looking at the line that snakes down the block. “This is great. It’s our grand opening. Smile. Be happy. And do not open that door until the stroke of twelve, okay?” It’s Sunday, the sun is shining, and the streets of Cambry-on-Hudson are filled with people strolling around, having brunch—yes—shopping. Outside my shop is a huge tin bucket filled with early peonies, bought from the florist across the street. A chalkboard sign says “Bliss: Open House today from 12-5. Come in, look around and enjoy!”

My mother is the first person in line. This does make my shoulders droop a little. But no, no. While my mother will talk endlessly about her wedding to Dad, she at least does it in a highly romantic manner. It could be good for business. Still, it would’ve been nice if she hadn’t worn sweats. She looks a teeny bit homeless. Sneakers, too. Her hair is messy. It’s all part of the “I’m A Widow” package, lest there be any doubt that her life was ruined when Dad died.

As ever, a cold needle pricks my heart.

Well. I have too much to do to rehash the past.

Andreas pops the champagne at the little bar I’ve set up for today. Pink champagne and pale pink-frosted cupcakes from Cottage Confections, the fabulous cake shop conveniently located four doors down. Kim, the owner, and I became instant friends as soon as she welcomed me to the downtown with six chocolate cupcakes. We’ll be referring each other lots. Andreas arranges the napkins, sets out a beautiful notebook so people can write down their emails.