If You Only Knew(89)

“I remember him as being very nice.”

“Yes. He is. It was good to see him.” The tears that have been making her eyes shiny slip out. “Except it was like I was pretending to be someone else. I don’t know anything anymore, Jenny. I don’t even know who I am. Last night was like a fake me, all dressed up, going out with a nice man, this haircut...and the truth is, I’d have rather been home. I’m not meant for hotels and restaurants, and we saw Robert De Niro, did I tell you that? We sat right next to him, and that’s just not me!” She glances toward the living room and bites down on a sob.

“Rach, honey,” I tell her. “You’ve been gone for two days. It’s called escaping. Taking a break. That’s allowed. That’s even encouraged.” I pause. “You just had dinner?”

She gives me a shaky smile. “Yes. And then we went back to my hotel room and had a drink. Up on the deck, not in the bedroom or anything. We talked, he left. He kissed me on the cheek, but nothing happened.”

No. She’s not the type. In all our life, I’ve never seen her so confused and sad as these past two months, and it makes my heart feel like it’s in a vise. “Robert De Niro, huh?”

She smiles. “He nodded at me.”

“Well, your hair does look amazing.”

And now she laughs, and the vise loosens. “So you stayed in a gorgeous hotel, had a fabulous dinner with a nice man, and you saw a movie star... It sounds pretty great.”

“It was.”

“And, Rach, of course you’re shaken up by this affair. You get to be mad. You trusted your husband a million percent, and he was f*cking around—”

“Don’t swear. The girls.”

“They can’t hear us. But he was, Rach. And maybe he still is! It’s normal to feel like...like...” I remember how I felt when Owen told me we were getting divorced. “Like you’re living in the wrong world.”

Her face scrunches up. “Exactly. And, Jenny, God, I loved the old world, so, so much.” She starts to cry in earnest, and damn it, so do I. “It’s like when Daddy died,” she says, wiping her eyes on the napkin. “Life was so perfect, and then it was over, and we never got that back. Do I divorce Adam? Do I try to stick it out? Sometimes I hate him so much, I think I might kill him, and then, yesterday, I missed him, Jenny. I missed him. And I feel like such an idiot because of it.” The tears slide down her face, and there’s such confusion there, such longing.

I press my lips together to stop my crying.

If Adam could see her now, would he still think Emmanuelle was worth it? That breaking the heart of this wonderful, lovely, generous, thoughtful human was somehow acceptable, because his orgasm was awesome?

The bastard. The cheating, lying scum bucket. There aren’t words bad enough for him.

At that moment, someone knocks on my door. “It’s probably Leo,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’ll shoo him away.” The mirror in the foyer shows my eyes are shiny with tears, my nose is red, my face blotchy. Not my best look.

It’s not Leo.

It’s Adam.

“Is my wife here?” he asks.

I stare at him, hatred throbbing. So far as I’m concerned, he’s lost the right to call Rachel his anything. “Go to hell, Adam.”

“Jenny, please. Is my wife here?”

“My sister, you mean? My sister is here. I’m not sure if she’s planning to be your wife much longer.” My stomach twists in sympathy pain for Rachel. Once upon a time, I loved Adam Carver, his charm, his laugh, his sweetness with his girls. Now I want to kick him in the nuts. More than once.

He gives a martyred sigh. “Can you please stop trying to run her life and just tell her I’m here?”

“I’ll ask my sister if she wants to see you. Until I know the answer, get off my steps. You’re trespassing.”

I’m shaking in rage. I close the door in his face, but gently, so as not to wake the girls, and go back into the kitchen.

My sister’s face is white. “I don’t want to see him. Not yet. I’ll be going home tomorrow, but I can’t see him tonight.”

“Of course, of course,” I say, kneeling down to give her a hug. “Stay right here. I’ll be back in a flash.”

I go out onto the stoop. Adam is obediently waiting on the sidewalk below. It feels good to look down at him like the dog shit he is. “She doesn’t want to see you,” I say. “For good reason. So. Bye.”

He doesn’t move a muscle.

“Adam, leave.”

“Rachel!” he yells suddenly. “Rach! Honey, please! I miss you so much! You and the girls are my whole life!”

I’m down the steps in a flash, nose to nose with my brother-in-law. “Not here, ass-hat, and not now. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Rach! Please, baby! It wasn’t like that! You have to believe me! Emmanuelle is nothing to me!”

“Well, she was enough for you to f*ck, wasn’t she?” I hiss, jabbing my forefinger into his chest. “You have two seconds to get into your car, or I’m calling the police.”

“Maybe I’ll call the police, Jenny,” he snarls. “You’re the one assaulting me.”

“With my finger?” I snap back. “God, I’m amazing. Or, you’re a puny excuse for a man. I’m going with that one.”