Page 62 of Two Couples

“She’ll eventually report whatever it is she saw or heard. Whether it was only that she heard us talking about it, or that she saw the body, or that she even saw the killer, that she witnessed the murder.”

“I can’t believe she wouldn’t have already done that, if what you’re saying is true.”

He shrugged, splaying his hands in front of his body. “All I know is she’s keeping something from us and she will call. Or, someone will report him missing, if they haven’t already. Once they start looking for him, they’ll check his phone records, which will likely tell them that the last place his phone pinged a location, it was our house.”

FORTY-FOUR

EMILY

Alone in our bedroom, I felt like I could finally relax. Now I could take off the mask and ask Keith what I really wanted to know, what I’d feared the minute he went charging at Patrick like a deranged bull. At the same time, I couldn’t just demand an answer, or he’d resurrect our ongoing argument. I didn’t want to argue. I wanted to weave together all the threads between us that had come unraveled over the past few months. I wanted us to return to who we’d always been—two people who were perfect for each other, two people who supported each other. Who listened and gave space for the other to be themself.

It wasn’t a fantasy to believe marriage could be that satisfying. I knew we could have that because we’d had it before. I also knew I was the one who had changed, but I couldn’t admit that to him. I wanted Keith to see that all I wanted was a little space. It didn’t mean I didn’t love him.

He went into the bathroom. “I’m going to shower.”

When the door closed, I plugged in my phone and left it face down on the nightstand. I stripped off my clothes and dropped them into the laundry bag. I slipped into a nightshirt and pulled back the comforter. I slid into bed and arranged the pillows behind my back.

Although I was tempted to pick up my phone, using social media or a game to numb my thoughts about what had just happened, I left the phone where it was. I needed to think.

I’d never seen Keith assault another man. He’d always been calm in almost every situation. It was one of the thousands of things I loved about him. He wore a tough skin when he was practicing law, but underneath that, he was the kindest man I knew. A man with good character and respect for other people. He was a man who always did the right thing. I understood perfectly why he’d chosen something that looked questionable in this situation.

The first thing I needed to do was to get him talking. I couldn’t assault him with questions, and definitely not with the big question that had weighed on my mind since the moment I heard his fist slam into Patrick’s stomach. I needed to tease him gently out of his antagonism toward me. He was convinced I was lying to him, and I needed him to see that nothing had changed between us.

Just because we weren’t texting nonstop throughout the day, and he might not know where I was every single minute, didn’t mean I was cheating. I honestly got tired of him always knowing where I was. I didn’t want to know his location every time he stopped for coffee. Where were the magic and mystery in our relationship if we messaged every little breath we inhaled and step we took? There was nothing to talk about in the evening. There were no surprises.

It was one of the reasons I’d so badly wanted to buy a vacation home at Lake Tahoe, even though we couldn’t quite manage to afford it without including Samantha and Patrick in our dream. We needed to shake up the pattern of our lives. It was locking us into a prison of our own creation.

This gorgeous lakeside home with all that glass facing the forest and glimpses of the deep blue water of the lake, the freedom to spend my time off work as I chose without accounting to Keith for every minute, and for him to do the same, would keep our marriage alive for decades to come. He didn’t appear to realize we needed this.

This house was a big part of my plan. I wasn’t thrilled we needed to share it with our friends, but I figured it would probably work out. It wasn’t as if Keith and I planned to be here every weekend. It would be easy to set up an online schedule and reserve dates without tripping over each other. Every so often, we could vacation together, as we were for our first stay.

I heard the water in the shower stop. In two minutes, Keith would be out. I closed my eyes and let my mind relax.

When I heard the door handle, I opened my eyes. Keith looked fantastic—possibly the result of the thoughts I’d been entertaining with my eyes closed. Thoughts of how much I loved him, how perfect we were for each other, what an amazing husband he was. It filled me with warmth and love toward him that sometimes sank below the surface when we were consumed with daily life and our careers.

His dark hair was wet and combed back. His face was lightly tanned after just three days. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, exposing a bruise near his ribs. The gash beside his eye had a fresh bandage on it. He still hadn’t shaved, so his beard now had almost three days of growth.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He climbed into bed. “Tired.”

“Do you regret what you did?”

“Not at all. I wished I’d gotten in a few more punches. If I hadn’t lost my balance, I think I might have taken him.”

I smiled and put my hand on his leg. “You were incredibly passionate about stopping him. I think you got your message across.”

“I got the message across, or you did? That was a smart move.” He put his hand over mine and squeezed it gently. “The guy just will not back off. He has such a flattering view of the police. He doesn’t realize they have him believing their PR.”

I took a breath and let it out slowly. “You seemed really angry.”

“I was. I am. He has no right to tell us what to do.”

“Is that all it was?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen you do anything like that. You were… ferocious.”