Page 140 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“Yeah. It’s hard to watch. I don’t like it.”

“What would you like?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “It’s your life. You’re gonna live it the way you want to, but just remember—it’s a choiceyou’remaking.”

“No, no, no. Back up. It doesn’tmatter? What I do doesn’t matter to you, or what you think shouldn’t matter to me?”

“You sound psycho right now.”

“And you’re being disingenuous. You can’t act like you care about me one second and then turn around and act like I’m inconsequential to you the next. Pick a lane. Which is it?”

“Fine, but we’re putting this in the friends compartment because?—”

“No. Fuck that,” I snap. “No more compartments. You’re too involved with me to retreat to a safe space. Just say what you want to say. I promise I can handle it.”

“You’re gonna have to ask the question again, then, because I’m fucking lost.”

“Are you planning to keep seeing me once we’re home?”

He scowls. “That was not one of the questions.”

“It was implied. Answer it.”

Frustrated, he slides a thumb behind his necklace. “Yes,Gibson. I don’t have any plans to stop seeing you. I already told you that.”

“Does it matter to you whether I’m happy or not?”

He squirms in his seat and averts his gaze. “Yes.”

“Do you think I should be married to Marianne?”

He sighs heavily. “No. I don’t. But not because of me.”

“I wasn’t asking because of you.”

“Then why?”

“Because I needed to hear someone else say it.”

He lets out another loud breath and folds his arms over his chest. “Well, there you go.”

It’s not entirely lost on me that he’s jealous. I would be, too, if our positions were reversed. This was our weekend, and I’m dragging my twisted, miserable marriage into it, but the sense of urgency isn’t going anywhere, and it won’t until I know what Marianne is up to.

“If I leave her, it’s not going to be some simple parting of ways. I have assets to protect, a reputation that’s important to me, and an extremely delicate history with her to navigate. In her way, I think she does care about me?—”

“But if she wants to be with someone else?—”

“That’s leverage.”

“So what does that make me?”

“I don’t know, Christian. You planning to stick around awhile?”

He drags his hand down his face. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

I smirk and put the car back into gear, determined to make this a quick trip.

I have to put a playlist on to distract me from his silence on the way to Sag Harbor. I can’t tell whether he’s seething, pouting, ruminating, or thinking of a new line of poetry, but I’ll drive myself nuts trying to figure it out. If he doesn’t want to talk, I don’t blame him. He has every reason to be annoyed.

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