If You Only Knew(98)

I bring the book with me and start reading.

I was wrong. Gus was right.

I love the book.

I only go in when it’s too dark to read, and then I curl up in my big chair and keep reading. Adam is doing something on the computer, surrounded by papers and files. He’s grouchy, but I’ll hand it to him. No more long days at the office. He’s home by six every night. We’ve been doing couple things. Dinner with Jared and Kimber last week. Adam was devoted and affectionate and kind of a perfect date, but I found myself looking at Jared and wondering if I should warn him. Tell him never to cheat on Kimber, to take care of her heart, because it’s clear that she loves him so, so much.

Obviously, I didn’t say anything. I don’t think Jared’s the cheating type. I’d swear to it, really.

Very conveniently, Emmanuelle has left Triple B. Adam told me last week. He told her he couldn’t work with her and he’d be looking for another job. Surprisingly, she jumped ship and took another job in the city before he needed to quit. It was a huge relief; I wouldn’t run into her at the grocery store or post office. And Adam said he was glad, too; he did love working so close to home. Translation: I’m a devoted family man, see?

I didn’t quite believe him, so I drove into Ossining, tracked down a pay phone and called Triple B and asked for Emmanuelle in a bad British accent. “Ms. St. Pierre no longer works at this office,” Lydia said. “Can I transfer you to—”

I hung up, relieved and disgusted with myself at the same time.

But she’s gone.

So I win.

Adam looks up from his work. I can feel his stare, but I don’t stop reading. This book is a little barrier. A gift from a male friend, and since I never did tell Adam about Gus, it feels delicious and secret.

Adam and I are sleeping together again. Having sex. A couple of times, anyway. I can’t say I’m really in the mood, but we have to, almost. That’s what husbands and wives do. We are, however, using two condoms.

“Why are you reading that book?” he asks now, scowling at the cover.

“It’s giving me ideas on how to get rid of your body,” I answer without looking up.

“That’s not funny,” he says. “Honey. Really.”

Oh, it’s pretty funny. But I grant him a little smile over the pages, then keep reading.

* * *

A few days later, I make plans with Jared to have lunch. School is winding down for the girls; next week is their last, so I want to do a few grown-up things while I still have the time. Donna is happy to pick them up.

I consider stopping by Bliss but decide against it. Jenny and I are not quite back to normal; I know she wishes I’d just divorce Adam. Life is so black-and-white for people without kids. Or something. I don’t know. But I’m New Rachel now. I don’t need my sister as much as I used to. Not in the same way, anyway. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. The thought does, however, make me feel like I can’t breathe. Maybe that’s why I’m reaching out to Jared a little more; I miss the old me.

Jenny came to the house last weekend for my birthday—my fortieth—and gave me a beautiful necklace and a card that said, “You’re the best mother I know.” Translation: I understand you’re doing staying with him because of the girls.

But am I? Or am I staying for me, because I don’t want to admit failure? Emmanuelle’s gone. He chose me, but I still feel like a failure.

“Rachel!” Jared gives me a big hug as he comes through the restaurant door. “How are you?”

We talk about Kimber and the ongoing blood sport that is his upcoming wedding; his mother has caused three wedding planners to quit, and Kimber is trying very hard to make Mrs. Brewster happy.

“Make sure your mother doesn’t run roughshod over her,” I tell Jared.

“I’m trying. It’s just that Kimber wants Mom to like her.”

“That will never happen,” I say before I can stop myself. This New Rachel. So rude. “I’m sorry. What I mean is, is anyone ever good enough for your baby?”

He smiles. “I keep telling Kimber she has to stand up for herself. It’s not a secret that my mom’s a control freak. Imagine when we have babies. But Kimmy just says let’s get through the wedding, because it doesn’t really matter to her.”

“Well, then, she’s a saint,” I say. “And her mom is very nice, too. She might give your mom a run for the money.”

“I know!” Jared says happily. “Finally, someone will. Now, listen. You can say no if this will be too much, but do you think the girls would like to be flower girls?”

“Oh, my God, you will make their lives! Yes, of course! Thank you!”

“It was Kimber’s idea. She loves kids.”

Our meals are served. A salad for me, a giant steak for him. I tell him a few stories about the girls, because he’s one of the few men who really seems to get a kick out of the antics of toddlers.

He’s always been a true friend.

“Jared,” I say as I eat my salad, “did you know Emmanuelle St. Pierre?”

“Sure,” he says. I can tell immediately that he doesn’t know about their affair. Jared is as transparent as a Golden retriever.

“So whatever happened to her? I heard she left the firm.”