Every Last Secret(33)

“I invited everyone in the neighborhood. And honestly, I would have skipped over their invite if Neena hadn’t painted a request across her tits with steak sauce.”

He sighed, setting the alarm and heading to the kitchen.

“And I thought they’d show up at six, like the rest of the neighborhood. They’ve been here since one.” I glanced at my watch. “It’s almost eleven. Why on earth would you invite them to watch movies with us?”

“We always watch Jaws on the Fourth of July.”

“Right. When the guests leave at ten. Not after sitting and discussing the freaking Canadian economy for ninety minutes. Plus, we always watch Jaws. Not you, me, Neena, and Matt. I swear to God, we need to bail on this friendship. They’re obsessed with us.”

William opened the door to the wine cellar, stepping in and reaching up for a bottle.

“I don’t understand why you aren’t sick of them,” I said.

“Matt’s a good guy. He isn’t like the rest of the pricks in this neighborhood. If I have to listen to one more discussion of the architectural review board election prospects, I’m going to hang myself. Plus, I work with Neena.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I have employees, too. And you know what? I’m not hanging out with the maids on the weekends. There’s a reason you’re supposed to separate business and pleasure.”

He shoved the bottle back into place and pulled out another. “Why are you so against her? Things are improving at WT. I’ve told you that. I need you to root for this.”

I frowned. “I’m always rooting for the companies. But even if the team is making progress with her—it doesn’t mean Neena and Matt have to dry hump our legs every other day of the week. I feel like I never get time alone with you anymore.” I adjusted the thermostat in the cellar, making it a degree warmer. “And did you notice that the Plymouths didn’t come?”

“Who?”

“Ned and Judy Plymouth, from Plymouth Industries.”

He moved his focus away from the wine and to me. “Why would they come?”

“I invited them. Stopped Judy in the club last week and invited her personally.” And, not to be bigheaded, but a personal invitation from Cat Winthorpe was paramount to an Oscar nod. I’d spent ten years building that clout, and the pasty-faced woman had flushed appropriately, gripping my arm with red-nailed talons, and assured me that they would come. I hadn’t mentioned Neena and had been almost giddy at the thought of seeing her and Ned’s reaction to each other. The anticipation of it had overcome any annoyance at her presence, and I’d stayed glued to her side, ready to watch their interaction. My excitement had slowly fizzled into disappointment at the realization that the Plymouths weren’t going to show. His wife had been practically frantic to attend, so Ned must have been the stumbling block. Maybe he’d heard we hired Neena and was worried she’d attend.

“I don’t understand what the Plymouths have to do with anything.” William turned away from the rack and headed toward the door. “But look—I’m sorry I invited them to watch Jaws with us. Are you still in the mood for it?”

I scoffed, flipping off the light. “Always.”

“Then let’s go scare your panties off.”

I stopped him before the entrance to the theater room and pulled him into my arms for a hug. He didn’t fight the gesture or ask me about it. He wrapped his arms around me, a protective blanket of security, and gave his insecure wife the long moment I needed.



On the screen, the end credits to Jaws rolled. I lay back against William’s chest, a cashmere blanket over our bodies, and tried to push Neena from my mind.

He ran his fingers over the top of my head. “You want to do another?”

I shifted into a more comfortable position and remembered the way she had hugged him goodbye, gripping him for a moment longer than was necessary. “Sure. Which one?”

He lifted the remote, scrolling through our July Fourth movie list.

I watched the familiar names roll by. “Independence Day,” I mumbled.

He clicked on the link, and I turned to him, unable to hold back a final Neena question that had been bothering me. “Did you tell her about my cysts?”

He didn’t say anything, but I could feel the tightening of his chest muscles underneath me.

I shifted to get a better glimpse of his face. “You did,” I accused.

“I didn’t tell her why we hadn’t had children, just that we have been trying.”

“Oh, right. So you didn’t mention that it was me and not you?”

His silence answered the question. I propped up on his lap and turned to meet his gaze. “That’s something personal, William. It should have stayed between us.”

“I didn’t mean—it just came out. We’re both dealing with that. Her with Matt, me with—”

“Oh my God, stop.” Any minute and the tears would come. “You can’t—” The image of them together, complaining over their infertile spouses. Talking about the missed opportunities and the children they yearned to have. Two fertile individuals, both married to such sad excuses for a spouse. Had they considered the easy option, the one that would have been painted so clearly before them?

Embarrassment flooded through me. “Tonight, Neena asked me why we haven’t had kids. I sat there and lied to her, and she knew it. Do you know how stupid I feel? Knowing that she thinks this is some secret the two of you share?” I shoved off him, and he caught my arm. “When did this come up? How did this come up? Because it sure as hell doesn’t have anything to do with Winthorpe Tech.”