The Villa(52)

This project, which has started pulling me out of the hole I’ve been in for the past year … it’s a thing Matt would make another anchor around my neck.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask him now, and I hate how pleading it sounds. “You left, remember? Why punish me?”

“This isn’t about punishment. Jesus, you always do this. I took care of you. I supported you.”

I can practically see him ticking off his fingers.

“I put in all this effort, Em. I wanted to save us. I wanted to save you. Look, if it were up to me, we’d still be living in the house we bought together, raising our child. You’re the one who changed. Not me.”

I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. “Matt, I got sick. I didn’t change.”

“You said you wanted a baby, but you never wanted to have sex, and then I found out you were still taking the pill. Even after you promised to stop, you never did.”

“Because I was sick,” I say again. “I didn’t want to fuck with my hormones when I didn’t know what was wrong with me.”

“You lied to me,” he insists. “Which means I spent seven years of my life with someone, thinking we wanted the same things when, clearly, we didn’t. Seven years. So, excuse me if I want a little return on my investment.”

I give a bitter laugh at that. “Serves me right for marrying an accountant, huh?”

“Am I wrong?” he presses, and I don’t answer. He is and he isn’t, and, honestly, maybe ostriches have the better idea because right now, I don’t feel better.

I just feel tired.

“Look, I don’t know what you heard,” I tell him now, my fingers tight around the phone, “but your information clearly sucks because I’m working on Petal. And I’ll email Robert about the dissolution. The sooner I’m not married to you, the better, honestly.”

I don’t let him reply to that, pressing End before he can say anything else.

The sun has fully set now, the villa dim as I make my way downstairs. True to her word, Chess is in the kitchen, and there’s a frosted martini glass on the counter filled with a bright yellow liquid.

I reach for it, the stem bitingly cold.

“It’s my own concoction,” Chess says. “Limoncello, obviously, a little bit of that gorgeous floral gin Giulia brought the other day, some elderflower liquor…”

It could be antifreeze for all I care right now. I suck down almost the whole thing, putting the glass back on the counter with a raggedy sigh as Chess raises her eyebrows and reaches for the cocktail shaker.

“I take it the phone call didn’t go great.”

I accept a refill, leaning back against the counter, one arm wrapped around my waist like I’m trying to hold my insides together.

“He talks like I’m the one who fucked everything up,” I say. “Like I tricked him or something by magically not having a baby. That’s what started all this. Once he’d decided he wanted kids, it was like that was the only thing that mattered.”

Chess is quiet for a moment, taking a sip from her bottle of mineral water before saying, “Did you want kids, Em? Really?”

“I did,” I insist, but even as I say the words, I can hear how unconvincing they sound.

I drink more, the lemony taste bright on my tongue. We’ve never talked about this, not really. Chess knew we’d been talking about having a baby, but she’d never asked me outright if it’s what I wanted. No one did.

Not even Matt.

“I mean, I didn’t not want kids, I guess. It was just that it still felt kind of vague to me. Like something future me was going to figure out or suddenly wake up and know the answer to. Or that I wanted them for him, if that makes sense.”

She nods. “That’s very you, Em. You live to make other people happy. It’s the one thing you have in common with Nanci.”

Chess so rarely brings up her mother that I’m actually stunned out of my pity party a little bit.

“Did you just compare me to the person you wrote an entire book about? A book where the thesis is, ‘this person is both terrible and useless’?”

Chess rolls her eyes, and picks up the dishcloth on the island next to her, flicking me with it. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way! Well, okay, I kind of did because it’s a trait you have to shake off, girl. Nanci never has. At least not where men are concerned. Making me happy? That was not exactly the highest of priorities, but some dude she met in the frozen foods aisle at Publix, well, he got whatever he wanted. And look where that’s led. She’s on her fourth husband, Em. Fourth.”

Chess holds up four fingers. “And living in his shitty condo in Florida even though I bought her a house in Asheville last year. But nope, she sold it because it was Beau’s dream to retire to Florida.” She shakes her head. “And it’s not even the pretty part of Florida. The beach is like a two-hour drive away, and Nanci hates everything about it, but, hey, if Beau’s happy, she’s happy!”

Stepping forward, she grabs my shoulders, giving me a light shake. “That could’ve been you! But it’s not because you’re free of all that now. You just have to get free in here.”

Lifting one hand, she taps my forehead.

It would be nice if life were as easy as Chess seems to think it is. But then, I remind myself, she doesn’t know how bad it all actually is. She doesn’t know about the money Matt’s asking for, or this new threat. I could tell her, but again, something stops me.