Page 69 of Little Secrets
“With all the casual hookups you have…?” She matches his eyebrow raise, attempting to make light of it.
“It was never going to be casual with you,” Sal says quietly. “And I know you know that, and that’s why you did it. Because you knew I wouldn’t say no to you. Because you’re the opposite of casual for me, Marin. You took advantage of that. Of me. But I get it. What was it you said to me once? After my dad died? You said hurt people… hurt people.”
They look at each other, and for a few seconds, for as long as Sal allows it, the heartbreak is all over his face.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw that onOprah,” she says, and they burst out laughing. The laughter breaks the tension, and they both exhale.
“You’re absolutely right,” she says. “About everything you said. I knew better. I needed to feel close to someone. I wanted to feel wanted, and beautiful, and seen. And you always make me feel that way. And I will always love you for it.”
“As a friend,” he clarifies.
“More than a friend.” Marin wants him to know that this is true, because it is. “So much more than a friend. But just… not like a husband.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. Okay. I get it.”
“I’m always going to want you in my life. Don’t leave me, Sal.Be mad at me all you want, but please. Don’t leave me. I wouldn’t survive it if you did.”
“Never.” He doesn’t make eye contact, but he squeezes her hand.
“Are we okay?”
He finally looks at her, offering a small smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes. “Dude. Come on. We never weren’t okay.”
“Then can you do me a favor?” she asks. “Can you check with Julian again after I leave and make sure that hereallydidn’t do anything to her? Indulge me, please.”
“I already told you—” Sal says, but then he stops. “You know what, of course I can do that. If it means you can sleep.” He pauses. “What else did the PI say? Anything new with Sebastian?”
“Nothing at all.” It’s Marin’s turn to sigh with frustration. “We didn’t even talk about him. But when she called, I nearly fainted. Usually she emails. I thought for sure it was going to be bad news.”
They sit with that for a moment, and then her phone pings. It’s a text from Derek.
What’s your ETA? I’m making popcorn and I don’t want to watch Stranger Things without you.
The text makes her smile.
“I should go,” she says to Sal.
He comes around the desk to give her a hug. She squeezes him tighter than he squeezes her, and it feels like she’s broken his heart for the second time in twenty years. She takes back what she said to him when she first got here. She does regret it. Not because of what they did. Because of how it affected him.
She closes the office door behind her and runs into Ginny in the hallway. She’s coming out of the ladies’ bathroom, and her lipstick looks fresh, her hair a bit shinier. She must have spritzed some perfume on, because Marin can smell her from a foot away.
“Hey.” Ginny’s expression sours at the sight of her. “Sal still in his office?”
“Yup, still in there.” Marin eases past her in the narrow hallway. They’re so close, their shoulders graze. “He’s all yours.”
“You’re hilarious,” the younger woman says, and Marin pauses to glance back. Ginny’s voice is like ice, her eyes like daggers. “Sal will never be anyone’s, thanks to you.”
Chapter 25
The funeral for Thomas Payne is held at St. Augustine Church, the same place Marin first met Frances, Simon, and Lila. The chapel is sizable and can easily seat up to four hundred congregants. On this rainy Tuesday morning, however, there are only thirty or so people occupying the first three rows.
It’s hard to know what to say to Frances. Their unofficial group leader greets Marin, Lila, and Simon as they file in together, the three of them having met up beforehand so they could brace for this day as a team. Frances is pale, but her eyes are clear. She’s wearing a loose-fitting black dress, a black shawl, and black clogs, and her long, graying hair is curly and wild. Marin notices she’s wearing lipstick for the first time since Marin’s known her, a bright rose shade that brings color to her cheeks. Frances hugs each of them for a full minute, allowing them to say the things they need to say, accepting their condolences with a smile that lets each of them know she’s glad they’re here.
Marin follows Simon and Lila into seats in the second row. It’s hard not to stare at the lacquered brown wooden casket at the altar, draped in white flowers and flanked on each side by enlarged framed photos of Thomas.
“Frances is handling this like a champ,” Lila whispers, chewing on her thumbnail. “I’d thought she’d be a mess.”
“No kidding.” Those were Marin’s thoughts exactly. She’d been expecting to see Frances shell-shocked and barely holding it together, but the woman seems almost the exact opposite of that.
