CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 29

NEENA

Matt was awkward in the car. His cast was too bulky, bumping into the door with a loud clunk as he tried to adjust the seat belt. From the back seat, I watched him fumble and swallowed a sharp remark.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said to William, then turned his head in an attempt to see me. “Neena, why didn’t you drive your car?”

I looked out the window, grateful that he couldn’t see me from his position. “I was so worried about you. We thought it’d be safer if William drove.”

Matt bought it as easily as every other lie I spoon-fed him. I listened as he went on and on, re-creating the yawn-worthy scene for us.

Coffee in hand. Black, like always.

The weather almost too cool to be out on the porch.

Saw a hawk on one of the trees.

Was leaning against the railing, as he always did, when it gave way.

“I swear, I’ve never cursed those high first-floor ceilings in my life. What do you think they are, eighteen feet?”

Silence hung, and I realized he was talking to me. “Uh . . . yeah. Eighteen feet.”

Matt chuckled, and I don’t know why he found that funny. “Thank God I hit the grass. You know, they say you should go limp when you fall, and I knew that, but I stuck out my hand like an idiot. Good thing I didn’t land feetfirst. I’d have snapped my weak ankles like twigs.”

He did have weak ankles. We used to laugh about it. I once put an anklet of mine on him and it fit, though a bit snugly, the gold chain tight around his hairy leg.

“Doc gave me three weeks of staying at home and letting my ribs heal.”

I made a face at the thought. Three weeks of tripping over him in the house? I’d go mad. And it was his right arm, of all things. He was high maintenance already—would be much more so with a crippled dominant hand. I reached forward and rubbed his good shoulder, making sure that William caught the action. “I’ll take good care of you, baby. Spoil you rotten. You’re going to hate it when you finally heal enough to get back to work.”

He turned his head and kissed my hand, and he really was sweet. It would be hard to re-create the amount of love and naked trust that Matt had for me, paired with his ability to overlook all my flaws.

William’s cell rang, and I saw Cat’s name light up on the dash. He hit the screen, and her voice broke through the speakers.

“Hi, love. Where are you?”

I hated the way she spoke to him. It was filled with such ownership, such familiarity and confidence. I’d been with Matt since high school, yet somehow—whenever I saw them together—it felt as if we were inadequate. I couldn’t wait to knock her off her perch and destroy that casual arrogance.

“We’re headed to the house now.” The stoplight ahead turned yellow, and William gunned the engine, slipping through as it flashed red.

“Great. I’ll head over and meet you. I threw the pieces of the balcony in the trash and put some tape up between the posts.”

“That’s great, Cat.” Matt craned forward, as if he needed to get closer to the delicate speaker in order for it to hear him. “Thank you so much.”

Oh yes. Thank you so, so, so much.I thought of her passing through our bedroom and onto the balcony. She probably judged us with every step through the house. Thank God I’d made the bed.

“I’ll put up a temporary railing,” William offered. “I can do it tomorrow evening. That’ll tide you over until you can get a replacement piece.”

“That would be great.” I reached forward and squeezed his arm, letting my hand trail over his bicep. “That’s so kind of you, Will.”

On the other end of the phone, Cat said nothing, and I knew that this—me with both of our men—was killing her. I sat back in my seat and smiled. “Will?” I called out sweetly. “Would you mind stopping on the way so we can grab something to eat?”

“I’ve already got food here,” Cat broke in crisply. “William, Philip just made lobster rolls and those cheese biscuits you love.”

William perked up, she blabbed on and on about their gourmet lunch, and I was ready to gag by the time they finished their I love yous and hung up the phone. It wasn’t natural, how often they said it. As a semi–health professional, I could recognize the insecurity in the gesture, the constant need to verify the feelings a giant red exclamation point of concern. If I were a marriage counselor, I’d tell them to hold back the words and show their love more with actions. I’d also pull William aside and make it clear that he could do much, much better.

We started up the hill, into the neighborhood, and I looked out the window, watching as the landscape passed by. In the front seat, the men started a heated conversation about the 49ers’ chances of a playoff run. I listened to them talk, laughter and insults slinging between the front seats, and wondered if William felt guilty toward Matt, about our kiss. Or was he like me and turned on by the close association and risk?

I didn’t know yet, but I would soon. If there was guilt, I’d massage it. I’d invent and provide a justification for our actions. And if it aroused him, I’d play up that angle, too. Increase the danger and heighten the stakes.

Either way, he didn’t have a chance.