Every Last Secret(80)

My wife, like Sylvia, was crazy.

I’d always suspected it but finally confirmed it. Not that a little bit of crazy was a bad thing. Honestly, it turned me on to know how much work my dear wife put into our marriage, to see the smooth lies that came out of her mouth, the faux concern she painted for others’ sakes, the orchestration of events she managed to effortlessly direct, all for the sake of our marriage.

If Cat were Sylvia, she’d have had everyone at that ball peeing in their own glasses, then pointing fingers at the other guests. And that, among other things, was why I loved her.

And I really did love her. Even more this week than last, and more this year than the one before. I think it’s rare for couples to still be in love after a decade of marriage, but we are. Which is one of the reasons I still can’t wrap my head around why I ever gave Neena Ryder a second glance.

Maybe because I like crazy women, and she fit that bill to a T.

Maybe because I’d grown comfortable in my love for Cat, and Neena posed a risk I needed to take.

Maybe because part of me wanted to see if I would get caught and what my sweet, perfect wife would do when she found out what I’d done.

Maybe because seeing Cat’s response pacified the insecure part of me that was reassured by watching my wife fight for me.

I’d wanted to see that crazy. I’d yearned for it. I’d been sloppy and reckless and waited to see it flare.

But it hadn’t. Mystifyingly, it hadn’t, and I’d continued further over the line with Neena, a masochist eager for his beating, certain that surely, any day now, I’d come home to a royally pissed-off wife. I’d plodded forward and completely missed the bread crumbs that Cat scattered until I was sitting across from her and signing the paperwork to buy Neena and Matt’s home.

I’d moved through the closing on autopilot, thinking through all the events that had brought us to this point, still struggling with my confidence that Neena Ryder could not have possibly attempted to kill Matt. And if not her . . . I’d met Cat’s eyes across the conference table, our gazes connecting, and realized, before she’d even cracked a smile, that she was behind all of it.

It was brilliant of her, expertly played, a cat lying quietly in the bushes and watching all her mice dance to their deaths. Thank God she scooped me out of the fray. Had she wanted to, she could have burned me at the stake right alongside Neena.

But she didn’t, and I loved her even more for her mercy.

I heard the office door open and turned to see her coming in the room, her eyes bright, smile big. “I just came from meeting with the architect,” she said happily, dropping a roll of paper down on my desk and unfurling it across the surface. “Look.”

I rolled forward in my desk chair and reviewed the plans. “Looks nice.”

“Nice?” She arched a brow at me. “Come on. Give me your feedback.”

I tried harder, pushing to my feet and coming around the desk to stand next to her. Bending over the architectural drawings, I tried to imagine the space. There would be a second guesthouse in the area where the Ryders’ home once was. A spacious outdoor kitchen and day spa overlooking the valley. Gardens that stretched between both lots, fountains that rimmed the pool, and an outdoor pavilion for eating and parties.

We didn’t need the space, but we also hadn’t needed the constant reminder of our old neighbors, Cat’s irritation and anxiety blooming with each new couple who toured the listing. I also think she enjoyed the act of literally destroying the home that Neena had never had a chance to really enjoy.

“The new firepit will be here.” She pointed. “And they’ll expand our pool and add an infinity edge. We’ll keep the small hot tub on our lot, but this . . .” She dragged her finger over to where the Ryders’ gazebo once was. “This will be the new hot tub, with a heated lap pool coming off it.”

I smiled at her. “Do I want to know what all this will cost me?”

“No.” She grinned back, hoisting herself up on the desk and looping her hands around my neck, pulling me between her open legs. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” I whispered. “And I love you.”

“Forever?” she asked, tilting her head and waiting on my response.

“Forever,” I promised, surging forward and pressing my lips to hers, frantic to prove it.





CAT

I stood at the edge of the electronics store parking lot and watched as Neena pushed in a row of carts. She wore a bright-blue collared top with cheap khaki pants that flapped around her ankles. As I watched, she paused, tightening the hair in her ponytail before resuming her task.

When she passed by me, I called her name. She glanced over and then froze. Jerking her head from side to side, she looked around for help, then cautiously regarded me. “Don’t come closer,” she called. “You can’t come closer.”

I stepped forward, holding up my hands as every part of her tensed. “I’m not here to get you in trouble. I’m approaching you at your job, and the parking-lot cameras will prove it. This isn’t a violation of our protective order against you.”

“What do you want?” Her jaw trembled, and I looked away from the weak action, focusing on her brilliant blue eyes.

A year ago, I’d have found joy in her fear, but now, with everything I knew, I felt only guilt. Guilt over torturing a woman who was clearly mentally unhinged. Guilt over ruining her marriage with the one man who could live with her faults. She had set out to destroy my marriage, but I had succeeded in destroying her life.