If You Only Knew, page 26
And sure enough, it works. "Jenny! What did you do? Calm down!" She runs down the steps.
"Nothing! Rach, he fell. Tell her you fell, you little worm." I take another step toward Adam, fully intending to give him a hand up, but someone puts his arms around me from behind. Leo. "What are you doing?" He lifts me up--easy for him, since he's a good six inches taller--and carries me back a few paces, as if I'm an actual threat. "Put me down!"
"Calm down, Jenny, and be quiet."
"I just poked him, okay? He fell because he's an uncoordinated cheating asswipe."
"Shush," he murmurs into my ear. "You don't want to get arrested."
That has quite the wallop. I freeze. Yeah, okay. I can see how this looks bad. Adam cowering, Rachel wringing her hands, me towering over the fallen.
Crap.
The cop gets out of his car. Rachel crouches by Adam's side. "Are you okay?" she asks, putting her hand on his shoulder. She never could tolerate someone being hurt.
Crap on a crutch.
"Sir," the officer says, "do you think you can get up?"
"I think so," Adam says. He never was stoic. The man once drove himself to the ER for a cold, convinced that his stuffy nose was pneumonia. It used to be a funny story. "My back hurts. I think I strained it when she pushed me."
"I did not push you, Adam! He fell on his ass! He tripped!" I sound like an abusive husband explaining why his wife has a black eye. Leo's right. I'm going to get arrested.
"Stay right where you are, lady, and quiet down. Ma'am," the cop says to Rachel, "please step over here." He lifts the radio on his shoulder and adds, "We've got a domestic here, 11 Magnolia. Possible injuries."
Within two minutes, there's an ambulance on the street. Legions of neighbors--who generally seem to like me but are now giving me strange looks--have come out to enjoy the drama, and I'm trying to look extremely unthreatening and gentle. Which I am.
Adam turns down the offer of an ambulance; I guess it's protocol to call one, even when the vic is faking.
Rachel is questioned by a police officer. Adam is questioned. I'm questioned. When I ask if this is really necessary, the officer coolly informs me that DV--domestic violence--calls can be the most dangerous. Leo is questioned as a witness--and sadly, tells the truth--he only saw me standing over my brother-in-law. Loki barks hysterically from Leo's courtyard, adding to the whole Cops feeling of the evening.
"Can I take my dog inside?" Leo asks. "He's old and confused."
"Sure," the cop says. "I need to ask Mr. Carver a few more questions."
Leo looks at me. "You know where I live," he says.
"Yeah. Thanks." He squeezes my hand, then goes to his true love.
It's awfully lonely without him. I catch Rachel's eye, give a half grimace, half smile.
She looks away, and my heart sinks so fast I feel sick.
"Okay," the cop says when he comes back to me. He cocks an eyebrow. "He's not going to press charges."
"Against the sidewalk? Because that's why he tripped. These are a hazard, you know."
"Ma'am, look," he says. "These situations can get very ugly. Okay? Just try to keep your temper."
"I don't have a temper," I say.
"Don't make me write you up."
"Thank you, Officer," I amend.
"That's better."
Adam signs a piece of paper, glancing at me.
I don't like the way Rachel only left his side to check on the girls. The bedroom windows are open, so we'd hear them if they needed anything.
I think my babysitting days have been curtailed for a little while.
I have to give Adam credit. He played that perfectly. No wonder he got away with an affair.
"Let's go inside to talk," Rachel says when the cops have left and the neighbors drift back to their homes. I'm still standing on the sidewalk, not sure what to do.
"No," Adam says. "Look, Jenny hates me, I get that. I deserve that. But, Rachel, we can't fix our marriage if you're staying with her. I love you. I love the girls." He pauses. "I miss the way things were."
And those are the magic words, apparently, because Rachel wavers.
"Please, baby," Adam whispers, and if he hadn't flipped me off and milked that fall, I might be pulling for him. But I know better.
Rachel does not know better. All of a sudden, they're hugging, and she's crying and he's murmuring, and I can't help it, I hear myself saying, "Rachel, you gotta be kidding! Don't fall for this again! You deserve better than this scumbag."
She pulls back and whirls on me. "That scumbag is the father of my children, Jenny," she hisses. "We have a family. It's easy for you to give advice because you don't know what's at stake!"
Her words slap me in the face. "Rachel, I just--"
"It's not your business," she says.
"You made it my business! I've been here for you since that first day! How can you say that?"
"Well, I don't need you right now, okay? I appreciate everything you've done for me, but Adam's right. This is for him and me to figure out. Not you." She looks at Adam. "Let me get the girls and we'll go home."
"I'll come in and help. If that's okay with you, Jenny. If you'll let me pollute your house long enough to get my daughters."
"Yes. I...I... Fine."
My hands are shaking. I'm furious with Rachel for being so naive--again! She didn't even know what a crotch shot was! And then, oh, hey, it was just an accident; Adam would never cheat on her, and of course he was. Even Leo, who was a complete stranger, knew that.
She wants me to look out for her, and I do, and then I get blamed for it. She needs a shoulder to cry on, and it's mine, and then I'm blamed for being angry.
It's so fucking unfair.
Five minutes later, I watch as the girls, who could sleep through being eaten by zombies, are packed into the minivan. Rachel pulls away, giving me a terse wave. Adam doesn't bother saying anything. Then, when he's just about to get into his car, he turns to me and says, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't fill her head with inflammatory images, Jenny. You're just making things worse."
"Me? Your whore is the one who filled her head with images when she sent that picture!"
Adam smiles at me. He smiles and gets into his car, and I'm left alone on the street, the DelFuego kid across the way bouncing his basketball.
It starts to rain again, and my tears slash hot and fierce through the cold on my cheeks.
"Jenny. Come inside." Leo's voice is soft from the doorway.
I turn around and obey. I don't quite make it into his apartment before I'm bawling.
"How can she be mad at me? She just... How am I suddenly the bad guy here?" I sob. Leo looks around, then hands me a roll of paper towels. I take it, blowing my nose as he leads me into his ever-immaculate living room. "She gave him everything! Three beautiful children. Her heart, every hour of the day devoted to that family, to him. She thought he practically parted the Red Sea, and he goes and sleeps with some slut."
That stupid, squeaky sound is me, I realize. I hate this. I hate my Ugly Face of Crying, hate the sobs that rip out of my throat, hate that my sister is mad at me and back with Adam.
Loki, who finally sides with me for once, starts crooning. He comes over and puts his head in my lap.
"Why don't men appreciate what they have? Why do they screw everything up? Why, Leo? Why?"
"I don't know, honey," Leo says quietly.
"She knows he's still sleeping with her. She's not stupid. He and that woman were making out in his office on Friday, and now Rachel's hugging him in the street! Why would she give him another chance? Can you honestly forget that your husband lied to you, over and over and over..." My voice breaks off into a squeak.
"I've missed eighty percent of what you've just said," Leo says, putting his arm around me. "Only Loki can hear you now."
Loki lies down and puts his muzzle on my foot. I blow my nose and try to get myself under control.
"My father cheated on my mother, did you know that?" I say, my face spasming. "Everyone thought they had the perfect marriage, but he cheated, too. And then he died, and I couldn't even be mad at him."
Leo kisses my hair and doesn't say anything.
"I should've told."
"Why?"
"Because then maybe he wouldn't have gone to buy that Brain Freeze."
"So you control the world, then? Good to know."
"Don't laugh at me." But it's nice here, my head on his chest, the warm smell of him. We were kissing last night. It seems like a week ago. "Do you think I should tell Rachel about our dad?"
"I have no idea."
"Please, Leo."
"Sweetheart, I honestly have no idea. I'm not good at this stuff." But he's stroking my hair, and it feels so good.
"I'm afraid that if she knows about Dad, then she'll justify staying with Adam."
"Loki, what do you think?"
"I hate that she's mad at me. I'm the good guy here."
"You are. You're a very good sister from what I've seen."
That makes my eyes fill again. I pull another paper towel off the roll and blow my nose. "I don't understand men," I say brokenly. "They have everything, and then one piece of tail makes them throw away everything that's good in their lives just for...for what? For sex? Is sex really that important that you'd screw over your wife and children and make them feel like dirt? Like they're stupid and unimportant?"
Did the same kind of thing happen with him? Maybe he could pipe up and make me feel a little less freakish, all my emotional misery eviscerated, hanging there like intestines.
"Do you have any idea, Leo?" I ask, lifting my head to look at him.
"I don't."
I put my head back on his chest. "And even if they don't cheat," I say, my voice small, "they find some way to break your heart and make you wonder what you ever did wrong. But they don't have time to answer you because they've already found the next love of their life, and you're just left standing on the street corner, asking yourself how the hell you didn't even notice your husband stopped loving you." I'm crying again.
I guess we both know who I'm really talking about.
"Loki, what did she say?" Leo asks, but his face is kind. He frames my face with his hands. Kisses my forehead, then my cheek. "Not all men break hearts," he murmurs. "Now mop up so I can kiss you."
There's that smile again, but there's something else in his clear blue eyes. Kindness. Sympathy.
Sadness.
Did he break his wife's heart? It doesn't seem as if he'd be capable of that, funny, kind Leo. No. His heart was the one that took the hit.
I wipe my eyes and blow my nose. Not the sexiest sound in the world, I realize, but he just looks at me, the smile, the eyes, the unfairly beautiful hair.
I'm fairly sure I'm in love with Leo Killian.
"Are we finally going to sleep together?" I ask.
"Yes," he says, and he does kiss me then, kisses me for a long time, cups my face in his hands, threads his fingers through my hair and kisses me and kisses me until my heart throbs with wanting him, and my whole body is tight and coiled and helpless with this, with soft, hot want that blots out all the ugliness from earlier. Then he takes me into his bedroom and makes good on his promise.
Makes very good.
Rachel
I don't know if I believe Adam about when the affair ended. I almost feel like it doesn't matter, because I'm just so tired. I'm tired of myself, tired of him, tired of the confusion, the sadness, the panic. I just want to watch Game of Thrones and think about nothing except how much I like Tyrion.
But I believe what he said in the street--he wants me back. A weekend without the girls and me was exactly what he needed--a glimpse of the life he'd have with a fractured family, going days without seeing Charlotte, Grace and Rose.
Without me.
The house is not exactly a mess when we get home from that debacle at Jenny's, but my absence is graffitied throughout the downstairs. The unloaded dishwasher. The clutter of mail on the counters, the unfolded laundry in the basket. It's evidence that he was here. Not with her. The plate on the coffee table, the single empty wineglass, sticky red residue in the bottom, tell me that this weekend, he was too scared to be with her. The slut. The home-wrecking whore.
Relief wraps around me like a blanket.
We get the girls in bed and tuck them in, and as Adam kisses each girl on the head, he whispers, "Daddy loves you."
And he does. I know he does.
We look at each other. I'm not sure what to do next.
"Let's talk," he says, reaching for my hand.
We sit in the living room, and he gets me a glass of wine. Touches my shoulder. "That was some scene at Jenny's," I murmur, because I'm not sure what else to say.
"It was surprising," Adam says drily.
I will die if this gets out--Jenny Tate and Rachel and Adam Carver, fighting in the street until the police were called. This entire spring, I've been grateful to my sister for a thousand reasons, but tonight is not one of those times. She's always so...sure, always taking charge. (I conveniently dismiss the fact that I asked her to do just that.) But honestly. What if the girls had woken up and looked out the window to see their aunt shoving their father?
I hate the way she sometimes treats me as if I'm slightly dim. Mom, too. We're not.
My anger toward her helps the other, more complicated feelings to slink to the back of my brain.
"How was your weekend?" Adam asks, and it's funny, I can barely remember. It was like a dream I had a long time ago. The suite, the view, the shopping...Gus.
Him, I remember.
"It was nice," I say. "I bought out SoHo and saw Robert De Niro and stayed in a ridiculous suite."
"You deserve it, babe," he says. "You deserve everything and more."
Whatever. I can't imagine Gus saying that. It's too trite.
"Adam, you have to be done with Emmanuelle." Her name is bitter in my mouth. "If I even suspect you're not, it's over between us. No more chances."
"I am done, Rach. I swear. I swear on our--" girls, he's about to say, but I cut him off.
"Don't. Don't ever swear on the girls."
"Okay. But I'm really done. You mean everything to me, Rachel. I've learned my lesson."
Why did you need to be taught, Adam? Why didn't you know that already? "I don't want you working with her. That's too much to ask. Find another job." I'm quite demanding, aren't I? This New Rachel has some qualities to recommend her, after all.
"Okay. I will, babe. You're right. I'll talk to Jared tomorrow."
"Good." I drain my wine. "I'm whipped. Let's go to bed."
We don't make love. But when I wake up in the dark, his arm is around me. I can't tell if I'm glad about that.
*
We have one more session with our marriage counselor. Donna babysits--she thinks we're going out to dinner. I don't ask Jenny, as I usually do. I'm still furious with her. I recognize that this isn't fair, but I need to be furious with someone. She can take it. She's the tough sister, after all, treating me as if I'm too fragile to have a real life.
Again, I'm not being fair.
Adam tells Laney the story of his encounter with Jenny as if he's in a bar, entertaining his workmates. She must have trained her face to be impassive, because her expression doesn't flicker.
"How did you feel about that, Rachel?" she asks.
"I was very angry," I say calmly. "I don't like having my marital problems broadcast."
"It sounds like Adam was the one broadcasting."
"I was desperate," Adam says. "I felt like if Rachel stayed one more hour with her sister, we'd never have a chance."
"Why?"
"Because Jenny... She never liked me."
I give him an incredulous look. "That's not true."
"Well. I think she was a little jealous of Rach and me. She had this protective thing going on with Rachel--not that you needed it, babe--and when I came along, I think she felt deposed."
"Why would she feel deposed, do you think, Adam?"
"Because Rachel loves me more," he says simply.
I don't respond.
"I'm sure Jenny has very strong feelings about your affair," Laney says.
"Look," I interject, not wanting to talk about my sister. "The point is, Adam and I are staying together. I'm tired of talking about it."
"Me, too!" Adam says with a relieved laugh.
"Okay," she says, her tone measured and calm. "A lot of couples want to do just that--put the event behind them. What can happen sometimes is that you think the issue has been dealt with, and then something flares back up."
I'm tired of flares. I never used to have flares.
She gives us the old therapist pause, waiting for one of us to speak.
Neither of us does.
She must read something in my expression. "If I can be of any further use, don't hesitate to call."
"Thank you. You've been very helpful." My tone is terse and unfamiliar even to my own ears. New Rachel in her sexy heels, bought in the city.
Like something Emmanuelle would wear.
*
Later that week, when the girls are at school and Adam's at work, I go to Bliss. As always, the beauty of my sister's work is a sensory shock--the gleam of fabric, the sweet beauty of a neckline, the glitter of a beaded bodice. Her talent is stunning, and this shop...it's warm and welcoming and breathtaking all at once.
As is my sister. I owe her an apology.
"Hello, Doris Day," Andreas says.
"Hello, Rock Hudson," I answer. "Is my sister here?"
"She's got an appointment in fifteen minutes. Kimber, as a matter of fact. But she's free right now."
Jenny appears on cue. "Hey!" she says, flushing. "Come on back."
I go into the dressing room with her, where a huge muslin dress hangs against the wall. I sit on the couch--apricot satin, something I helped pick out an eon ago, it seems. "Jenny, I'm sorry," I say.
"I didn't push him, Rachel. I poked him, and he tripped."
I nod.
"So you're back together?" she asks, focusing on something over my head.
"Yes. We're working through it. And we're getting there."
She can barely look at me, and a flash of Old Rachel, that stupid softhearted idiot, clamors to get out and beg her to hug me.
"Jenny," I say, "I need you to be okay with that. I can't have you hating my husband and the father of my children."
"I get that," she says. "But don't punish me for knowing what I know. What you told me. I can't help hating him."
