The Paper Palace(27)

Peter and the kids are still far out, floating on their boogie boards. I scan the water around them, looking for fins. Looking for shadows. It’s been a long time since I swam here innocently. Every time we come to the beach, I imagine a shark approaching. I’m the first one to see it. I imagine my cries of warning, the frantic splashing as they half run, half swim toward me, toward safety, toward shore. I imagine screaming for help, and then, with no one else in sight, my own frenzied plunge toward danger. Pulling them from the shark’s grip, risking my own life to save my children. And every time, the other thought comes: If it was just Peter in the water, would I swim out to save him?

Peter waves to me now.

“Lunchtime!” I yell, gesturing for him to bring the kids in.

He looks over his shoulder at a big wave approaching and starts paddling with all his might. He catches the wave at its crest and rides it past me. His face is pure joy.

Gina has set up the picnic in the shade of the tent. I can see the indentation of my body in the sand, next to a pile of tuna sandwiches on a paper plate.

“Jonas went to find a bathroom.” Gina passes out cups of lemonade. “Look,” she says. “He’s so sweet.” She points to Jonas’s drawing in the sand. The one I couldn’t see from the tent. It’s a heart. In it he has written: I love only you.

Gina hands the kids a bag of mini carrots. “Can you imagine having such a romantic husband?” she asks Maddy.

“You’re so lucky, Gina” Maddy says.

“She is,” I say.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Peter says.

“Kind of,” Maddy says. “But nice chopped liver.”

“I hate liver,” Finn says. “Never make me eat liver. Because I hate it.”

I watch Jonas coming back over the dune from the bathrooms.

“Hey, man,” Peter calls to him. “You missed some excellent surf out there. It was a perfect break.”

“I was too busy flirting with your wife.” Jonas lies down beside me on the sand, hands crossed behind his head. I can feel the warmth of his skin next to mine. The small space between us is dense. Not air, but water. Our illicit proximity thrills through me.

“She’s yours for a price.” Peter laughs. “I’ve been waiting for the right buyer.” He stuffs the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth.

“I’ll have my people talk to your people,” Jonas says to Peter, letting his arm brush mine. I allow myself to breathe him in for a second, before sitting up and shifting away.

“Ha-ha,” I say.

There’s a smudge of mayo on Peter’s cheek. “You have a thing there.” I wet the corner of my towel with a bit of saliva and wipe it off.

“Eww,” Finn says.

“It’s just spit, goose. And, Peter? Don’t ever say, ‘Hey, man,’ again. Ever.”

Gina is busy putting rocks and bits of brittle black seaweed around the outline of the heart Jonas drew for me in the sand. Maddy is helping collect pebbles and shells for her. She runs up with a sand dollar in her hand.

“Look!” She sounds as if she has found the treasure of the Sierra Madre.

“It’s perfect,” Gina says, and puts it in the middle of the word love.

I can’t look at Jonas.

“We should go soon,” I say to Peter.

“I want to stay longer,” Finn whines.

“No whining,” I say.

“Me too,” Maddy says.

“I’m getting burnt to a crisp.”

Peter looks at his watch. “The kids are having a good time. We can stay another half an hour.”

He’s right. The kids are happy. It’s not their fault I fucked Jonas.

“Leave them with us,” Gina says. “We can drop them off later.”

“That works,” Peter says before I have a chance to say no. “You can have a swim in the pond. Rinse the salt off.”

“Perfect,” Gina says.

I look at Jonas, willing him to come up with an excuse. He smiles, amused.

Peter starts collecting our stuff. “Three-ish?”

“Sounds good,” Jonas says to everyone, but he’s looking at me. “If you wait for me to take your afternoon swim, I’ll swim across the pond with you, Elle.”

“I’ll be making margaritas,” Peter says.

“Salt me a glass,” Gina says.

In the car, Peter puts his hand on my thigh. “Alone at last, gorgeous.”

“No thanks to you. I was trying to get rid of them. They’ll come back to the camp and hang around ’til dinnertime.”

“But now we have a few free hours. I thought we could have a swim at Black Pond.”

He leans over, nuzzles my neck. “A naked swim,” he says in his “suggestive” voice. “That bathing suit makes me horny.”

“My ratty old black bathing suit makes you horny?”

“My ratty old white wife does, actually.”

I laugh. This is the thing about Peter.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.” He reaches between my legs, strokes my thigh where my sarong has fallen open. “When was the last time you had sex in a public place?”

My leg flinches. The memory of Jonas’s hand. “You know what? That’s a great idea,” I say, trying to cover it. “We haven’t been down there in ages.”