“What?” Marcus takes a few steps until he is standing beside Lisa. “Gwen, is that true?”
“Yes, because she did. I know she did,” Gwen says. “She slept with Anton. I have proof.”
“What proof?” Marcus asks, the picture of patience. He shoots a quick glance at Lisa. It’s all a joke to him. He’s in denial. She wants to scream. Instead, Gwen inhales and tries to steady her voice.
“I have the pen, for starters.”
“The pen?” A smile teases his lips.
Lisa places her hand on her husband’s forearm. “Remember how I told you I bumped into Anton in Tampa? I took home a pen from the restaurant. Gwen seems to think that’s evidence of something.”
“And I know about the tattoo.”
Lisa leans into Marcus as if having this whole conversation is exhausting. “It’s true I blabbed to Anton about my tattoo.” She sighs. “So that’s why she thinks we were, um,sleeping together.”
Those last two words hang in the air for a moment. Gwen feels like she is going mad. She is speechless, her mind frozen. Somehow Lisa has both admitted to the facts and denied them at the same time. Marcus believes her every lie. He has no inkling that Lisa is manipulating the facts. But how can she tell him without sounding crazy?
“Gwen, why don’t we take you home?” Marcus takes a step forward. “You’re not wearing any shoes.”
Gwen looks down, wobbling a little. It’s true. She’s barefoot. How did that happen? She knows she was drinking, but she is sure she put on her shoes before she left.
“I don’t need you to take me home. I was going, anyway.” She looks up at their pitying faces and witnesses the tectonic shift. They think she’s crazy, out here in the street, barefoot and throwing around wild accusations. But she knows.
Gwen pivots, yanking at Sababa’s leash. “C’mon,” she says loudly so Marcus and Lisa can hear her. “Aimee will believe me.”
She can hear the sound of footsteps coming up behind her. “Gwen, where do you think you’re going?” Lisa’s voice is sharp now.
Gwen keeps walking. “I’m going to Aimee’s, and you can’t stop me. I’m going to tell her everything.”
Lisa grabs her arm, halting her. Gwen stumbles but catches herself before she falls. “Let go of me. I’m going to tell her you were screwing my husband, right under our noses.” She glares at Lisa, inches from her face as she says this. “We’ll see what she thinks of you then.”
23
NOW
Aimee has just put the chicken in the oven when Scott comes in the front door. Benji and Max run up to him and give him big hugs as he hangs up his coat. He holds up a bag.
“Stopped by the bakery on my way home and bought some black-and-white cookies.”
Aimee takes the bag from him and sees there is an elephant ear inside for her. His attempt to butter her up. But it will take a lot more than her favorite pastries to assuage her. She wants answers.
Aimee sets the timer for twenty-five minutes and checks on the potatoes. She wanted to serve a real dinner tonight, the whole family sitting down together. Since Anton’s death, they’ve been grabbing what they can eat, ordering takeout, and eating frozen food. If she is being honest, she and Scott have let family mealtime slip a little over the past few months.
But getting through dinner will be challenging when what she really wants to do is grab Scott by his shirt and drag him into the next room to yell at him. She is torn between grilling her husband in fury and playing nice, enjoying a pleasant family meal. A part of her worries this might be their last one for a while. She is more than a little afraid that what he is going to tell her will change the way she sees him. And she’s not ready to say goodbye to the version of Scott she’s been in love with for so long.
“Smells good.” He comes up beside her. “Can I help? How about a glass of wine?”
“Sure,” Aimee says, watching him take a bottle from thefridge and open it. He’s on his best behavior. Not the distracted, overworked Scott of the past few months, but her old Scott. Cheery and easygoing. The Scott she met and fell in love with at a co-ed kickball league on the National Mall. A friend from college begged her to come bolster the number of women on the team—they needed a certain threshold to play in the league. Afterward, they all went to the Big Hunt in Dupont Circle. She and Scott were friends first. It wasn’t until he helped her move out of a group house on Q Street and into an apartment in Mount Pleasant that he confessed his feelings for her. She thought he was just being nice, and he thought it was funny that she hadn’t picked up on his signals. That was almost fifteen years ago.
Aimee accepts a glass.
“To us,” Scott says, holding up his.
“To the truth.” Aimee clinks her glass against his and takes a sip. “I’m looking forward to hearing it. All of it.”
“I deserve that. I’ve been holding back. But tonight I am going to tell you everything. I swear. As soon as the kids are in bed, I will explain it all. Jon Block. The money. You can ask me anything. I promise.”
She nods. “All right.”