Page 64 of The Wife

“No, and at this point, I honestly don’t give a fuck if I’m violating professional ethics. I figured I’d tell you the options, and if you want me to talk to him about it, I’m happy to. If not, I’ll never bring it up again. Not to defend much of what Jason has done, but he really is trying to protect you.”

“It doesn’t always feel that way.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but since I’m an open book today, Olivia Randall called me yesterday. She wanted me to see if you’d do some kind of public interview, basically saying you and Jason had an open marriage.” Before I began to respond, he had a rebuttal prepared. “I told her you would never agree to that, and as your friend, I would never suggest it. Importantly, she said that Jason refused to ask you, too.”

“That woman’s a pit bull.”

“Well, she’s Jason’s pit bull.”

“She’s really good, huh?”

“Yeah. That’s why I recommended her. Up there with the very best.”

“Plus, she’s a woman,” I said.

“Well, yes. It doesn’t hurt to have a woman speaking up for you on this type of a case.”

“She’s pretty, too.” I blurted what I had been wondering since I first met her: “Are you guys a thing?”

“We went out a few times. It was a while ago. Olivia’s not—a relationship person. Why did you ask?” His eyes were filled with a blend of fear and hope. I remembered the way a certain look from Jason used to be able to stir something overwhelming in me. I felt a yearning for something I never thought I would miss.

I shrugged, but held his gaze. “I was just wondering. It seemed to make sense, the two of you, together.”

“No, of the women I’ve let slip by, she’s not the one who makes sense for me.”

The one. The one he wished he had met at Susanna’s party the night she met his best friend instead.

“That thing you said about splitting things up, what do you think I should do?”

He sighed heavily. “Please, don’t ask me that. I’ll do anything else for you, but not that. He’s still my friend.”

“And I’m still his wife.”

He looked up at the ceiling. “Fuck, I hate this.”

I leaned toward him, pausing to see if he’d stop me. He didn’t. I kissed him, gently at first, and then so urgently, I was on my feet, leaning into him.

“Angela, wait—”

“You said anything. You’d do anything.”

He drew in his breath.

“This is what I need right now,” I whispered. “I need this.”

The first time was clumsy and frenzied, almost violent, the edges of the cold kitchen tile scraping against my back. When it was over, he rolled me on top of him and held me in his arms. I didn’t speak because I didn’t want him to leave. I remained perfectly still while he held me, stroked my hair, tickled the small of my back, whatever he wanted. When I felt him respond beneath me, I slid lower, not worrying about whether those flashbacks that came and went beyond my control would suddenly return. I took him by the hand and led him upstairs, opting for Spencer’s room only because I didn’t want Colin to see reminders of Jason and stop what we had started.

I didn’t care that I was in my son’s bed, or with Jason’s best friend. For the next two hours, I wasn’t a mother, and I wasn’t a wife. I was with this man who knew me and wanted me and had made me want him, at least for this day. We did everything I wanted, at the pace I set, and when we were finally done, I asked him to leave and to never mention it again.

When he was gone, I ate the food he had brought until I couldn’t take another bite, then went upstairs to my room to reread, once again, the printout that Susanna had given me at the courthouse.

41

I was freshly showered and getting ready to leave a voice mail for Susanna when she picked up. “Oh thank god, I was starting to think you were never going to speak to me again.”

“That would never happen.” I hadn’t talked to her since we were at the courthouse yesterday.

“I was giving myself one more day before I was going to call you.”

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