Page 139 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

What Olivier said earlier about Avery is stuck in my head.Not as stupid as she looks.

Maybe one man’s money isn’t enough for Avery Lawther.

My paranoia makes the grand finale of fireworks especially grating. I distract myself from the noise, my thoughts, and all of it by kissing Christian’s neck. He smells incredible. Faintly of chlorine and cologne and the vague vanilla of his shampoo. He’s been as soft as clay today. Sweet and sexy and hardly giving me any shit at all. It’s our last night here, and while I’m eager to not be in a house with eight other people, Manhattan means schedules and work and the club. Zoom calls, site visits, meetings with Geoff. Christian in a suit twenty feet away from me looking gorgeous, wanting to touch him but having to wait.

Or worse, he’ll be twenty-four floors away at the desk. Or even worse, I’ll be home, and he’ll be out with some combination of these people living his real life while I subsist in mine.

The listlessness I feel at the idea of being without him is familiar in that horrible, painful way of finding someone you really like and not being able to be with them constantly. The mutual obsession. The constant craving. The big, big feelings that you can’t say out loud because you’d sound nuts because it’s been three and a half fucking weeks.

“I don’t want to go home,” I whisper directly into his ear because the fireworks are deafening.

“Do we have to?”

I don’t answer. I give his neck another kiss, and he turns his face toward mine for a real one. I keep it PG-13, but it’s still perfect. Drew and Olivier definitely earn an R rating. It feels like we’re all in the mood to get back to the house.

But Sag Harbor is top of mind when Christian and I get into my car. “Do you mind if I take a slight detour?”

“What’s up?” he asks.

“This is embarrassing, but I’ll tell you since I intend to drag you along. I want to do a drive by of my house and see if Marianne lied about how she’s spending the weekend.

“Oh.”

“What?” I ask, his disappointed tone making me nervous.

He glances back at the others packing up the cars. “I can catch a ride with Jericho if you’d rather go alone.”

“This is literally a spying mission. I’m information gathering. I’m not pining, Christian.”

He sighs and slouches in his seat. “Fine. Why are you spying on your wife? Can’t you just call her?”

As I pull out onto the road, I give him a quick rundown of what my conversation with Olivier was about. He seems unimpressed, which honestly makes me feel better. “Just because she might be having a fling with someone doesn’t mean she’s planning to leave you and try to take all your money. It’s not like you’re not doing the exact same thing.”

Maybe that’s why it’s bothering me. Iamdoing the same thing, and I’m wondering if maybe it’s actually therightthing. “Would it make you feel better if I told her all about us? You want her to know your business, too?”

Christian grimaces and follows it up with a glare.

“What?” I ask. “Why does that question bother you?”

“Because I don’t want anything to do with your marriage.”

“Fine. We’ll go back to Larry’s. Whatever.”

“No, please. By all means, satisfy your weird curiosity. I don’t want you tossing and turning all night wondering what she’s up to when you can see it with your own eyes. I’m sure that’ll make it better.”

I’m so frustrated and confused, I actually pull over to the side of the road and put the car in park. Turning to him, I try very hard not to shout, “What do you want from me?” But the words do come out, and they’re louder than I intended.

“What would it take for you to leave her?” he asks.

I jerk my head, surprised at the question and even more disappointed in my lack of a ready answer.

He goes on. “Will finding out she’s with one person or four make a difference? If she’s actually in love with someone else, will that do the trick? Or is there some point where you’ll decide you’ve finally had enough of being unhappy and lonely and unwanted in your own home?”

“Ouch.”

He lifts his hands in exasperation. “Sorry?”

“Is there anything else you need to say?” I ask, hurt, but also riled.

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