“She was fine with it,” he mumbles. “I think she hoped for more, but—” his voice changes into his country-club voice, firmer and louder “—I would never leave Rachel and the girls.” See what a great guy I am?
“Why not?” Laney asks.
“Because...” His voice breaks. “Because I love them. I love you, Rachel. You’re everything to me. And the girls are, too. I just screwed up. I thought it wouldn’t hurt anyone, because...because I didn’t think you’d find out. It was never going to be long-term. I was stupid, I know. A kid who wants all the toys.” His face scrunches up, and he looks so much like Grace in that moment that my heart gives an unwilling tug. “I love you,” he whispers.
“Yay me,” I say, and we both laugh for a second, identical, surprised snorts.
“Okay, Rachel, why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling.”
“Well,” I say, and suddenly I feel more like my old self. Shy. Embarrassed at having to talk to a stranger. Horrified at the tides of anger and grief and shame that surge without my permission or control.
Grateful for Adam saying what he just did. Grateful and limp with relief.
He loves me. He’s staying with me. She was just a fling.
Yeah. Right. And he said you were boring and Emmanuelle is razor-sharp. No one has called you razor-sharp before.
I stiffen. “I’m very angry,” I say, and Laney nods and smiles sympathetically. “I...I don’t trust him, because the first time I asked about this, he lied. He wanted to have porno sex with Emmanuelle, so he did. I had to get an STD screening last week. That definitely wasn’t on my list of things to do. I told the babysitter I was getting a pedicure.”
“But you don’t have an STD. I would never endanger you,” Adam says.
“You want a medal?” I look back at Laney. “It’s hard to accept that screwing his porno dream was more important than nine years of marriage and three daughters and this precious, beautiful life we’ve built—”
“You mean, you’ve built,” Adam interjects. “Your life. Your vision of precious and beautiful.”
“Really? When did you ever want anything else before Emmanuelle and her vagina came along? Huh? You told me you wanted at least two kids. You were all for me being a stay-at-home mom. You bought our house without even consulting me! So don’t give me this ‘You’ve stifled my dreams’ bullshit!”
I seem to be yelling. Adam looks stunned, and my face burns, and my legs are shaking, and I can’t sit next to him another second. I bolt to the other couch and can’t bear to look at my husband.
How did things get so, so wretched?
Laney leans forward. “Do you want to stay married, Rachel? Even knowing that Adam’s been unfaithful?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. Grabbing a tissue, I press it against my eyes. “I don’t know. I kind of hate him right now.”
“Well, I love you,” Adam says impatiently. “Sex and love are different.”
“Fuck you,” I say.
“Nice. You sound like your sister.”
“Don’t you dare talk about my sister.”
“Okay,” Laney says. “Adam, I want you to do something right now. Look at Rachel and tell her you’re sorry.”
“I’ve told her that a hundred times since this happened.”
“Since I found out, you mean. You actually tried to guilt-trip me the first time I asked.”
“Tell her again, Adam. Really look at her.”
He turns to me, and after a second, his caramel eyes soften from irritable to...to love. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I really am, Rach.”
This is the hard part. The love. I stare back, feeling older than I ever have before.
“That’s all we have time for this week,” Laney says. “But we’re off to a good, solid start, you two.”
* * *
For no reason that I can fathom, Adam is chipper in the car. “That went well. I had my doubts, but that went well.”
I don’t answer. My head is killing me.
“Think I can have my wife back?” he asks, giving me a sidelong smile.
“What?”
“Can we sleep together tonight? I miss you.”
“I don’t think so, Adam.”
He sighs. Taps a finger on the steering wheel. “Then when?”
“Whenever I feel like it. Which I don’t.” Listen to me. I do kind of sound like Jenny, who’s always so quick and sharp.
I miss the old me.
“I meant what I said, sweetheart.” Adam’s voice is gentle.
“About me being boring, or about you being so sorry?”
“I am sorry. Do I have to chant it over and over?”
“Maybe.”
“Then I will. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you. Forgive me.” His voice holds a hint of amusement, and I’m too tired to be angry about it.
The window is cool against my forehead. A soft rain taps against the windshield. The lovely homes of COH pass by in their tasteful colors, gray and white and yellow, dark green and Colonial red. Pots of pansies and wreaths of forsythia grace doorways, and the lawns are lush and thick.
“Would you mind driving me to the cemetery?” I ask.
“Sure, baby,” Adam says. He’s back to Considerate Adam, the Adam I love.
He pulls into Eden Hills, the vast, rolling cemetery that serves COH and three other towns. I’ve always loved coming here. It’s only a mile from home. My mother finds it agonizing, and Jenny hasn’t come in years, but I visit a couple of times a month and tend Daddy’s grave. Just last week, the girls and I were here. They know their grandfather is in heaven, but they haven’t asked the difficult question yet—how did Grandpa die. Grace will be the first, I’m sure.