Page 160 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“Glad to hear she’s looking out for me.”

“She’s upset,” I tell him in terms of a heads up.

“Makes sense. She and Avery broke up in the Hamptons last month.”

“What?”

“And you thought I was being paranoid,” he says.

“So they were really together? What about all the other women?”

“Her baby subs, you mean? I would never presume to know exactly what Marianne is thinking, and you probably shouldn’t either.”

“I won’t. I promise. ”

“I’m planning to have a conversation with her when she gets up here. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”

“Yeah,” I say, ignoring my disappointment. “If I go out, I’ll share my location.”

“You will?”

His surprise is cute. “If you need me, come find me.”

“I love you,” he says after a short pause.

“I love you, too, Gibson.”

I hang up.

Staring once again at Gramercy Place, I imagine Marianne’s ascent up the elevator like a wrecking ball poised to demolish the entire thing.

It’s possible my entire future turns on this moment.

45

GIBSON

Fuck.

Hearing his voice and those unbelievable words have me thrumming with the need to get to him. Tobe with him.

In contemplating ending my marriage, I’ve been thinking a lot about how it began. The fast infatuation. The kinky sex. The talks she and I used to have about what it would be like when we were free of our parents and rich. What our kids would be like—how many—what names—cats or dogs or none of the above because we never wanted to leave New York. It was magical for about a year, and then we were in a relationship, which came with all the trappings of shit that pisses each other off.

Petty jealousies. Premature ejaculations. Running late for plans. Annoying friends who didn’t think we were right for each other. All the usual bullshit young couples face and make it through or don’t. We did. I couldn’t imagine anyone better for me—anyone I’d rather spend my life with.

After the rape, I could never imagine leaving her. Between her trauma and my guilt, we had a bond that was too intense to break. But the woman I’m married to now is not the woman I met, or even the one I married. Everyone changes. God knows, Ihave. But living separate lives together isn’t the same as growing together or even growing apart. The person Avery described to me today is not a woman I know, or a woman I ever knew.

She’s needy and jealous. Lonely and manipulative. She’s broken and lashing out, but she’s also fierce and passionate. Though ashamed, as she should be, Avery admitted Marianne fell in love with her over the last year. While Avery was never particularly fond of being intimate with her, their relationship was also physical. Recently, Avery met a successful surgeon who’s promised to give her the life she thought she could have with Graham Lawther, who wasn’t rich enough.

Marianne was a rung on the social ladder Avery wanted to climb, and when it got serious—when Marianne told Avery she would leave me for her—Avery chickened out.

It explains the weight loss, the lack of overnight guests. But what it does not explain is Marianne’s persistent silence. Her total lack of interest in me. The only thing that explains that is the honest truth. We’ve grown so far apart, the distance is insurmountable.

I’m no longer in love with her.

The opening of our marriage was the beginning of the end of my infatuation with her. The end of my optimism. The end of any hope for us.

Do I love her? Yes. Always.

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