Page 24 of Little Secrets
It feels like only a second later when Sal wakes her up. Marin must have passed out hard, because when she opens her eyes, they’re in the driveway of her house, and Sal is once again leaning across her, unbuckling her seat belt.
He helps her out of the car and up the steps to the front door, propping her up again while she tries to remember the code. She hardly ever uses the front entrance. She and Derek park in the garage and enter the house through the mudroom, which is rarely locked. The first attempt, which she remembers too late is her ATM card pin, causes the little light to blink red. The second attempt, their wedding anniversary, also fails.
And then she remembers. The door code is Sebastian’s birthday, and an overwhelming wave of grief hits her as she enters the number into the keypad and the light finally flashes green.
“What?” Sal asks, feeling her sag against him. “What is it? You going to be sick?”
“No.” She’s not going to be sick. She never throws up, at least not from drinking. Not anymore. “Can you help me up to the bedroom?”
He shuts and locks the door behind them. She kicks off her shoes and shrugs out of her coat, leaving both on the floor of the foyer. Sal helps her up the long, winding staircase and into the bedroom,where she plops onto the bed and closes her eyes. The room is still spinning, but she’s a bit clearer than she was when they left the bar.
Sal sits beside her, and she leans against his shoulder. She likes the way he feels. So solid. Sopresent.
“Do you have to rush off?” she asks, aware that they’re both on the bed. But she doesn’t want to be alone. She’s always alone these days.
“No,” he says, resting his cheek on her head. “I can hang for a bit.”
She settles into him, wanting to lie down with him, but of course that would be wholly inappropriate. They’re already close to crossing a line as it is.
“Remember when I said I know a guy?” he murmurs, stroking her hair, which has fallen in messy strands across her forehead. Maybe it’s because they’re alone in the quiet bedroom, but his voice gives her the shivers. It’s husky, intimate, a voice she hasn’t heard him use with her since she was his girlfriend. It excites her, and she feels a tingle, but it’s probably just the alcohol making her feel this way. “I wasn’t kidding, Mar. I do. And he can take care of this problem for you.”
“Stop. I was joking.” She tries to pull back to look up at him, but his arms are strong, well-muscled. They don’t budge when she tries to extract herself from his embrace.
“I wasn’t,” he says into her hair.
“Fine, give me his info.” She can play along for two minutes until he leaves. When Sal doesn’t say anything, she says, “What, he doesn’t have a business card? What does this guy do, exactly? Lawyer?”
“I told you,” Sal says. “He’s a fixer.”
“Perfect. Can he kill someone and make it look like an accident?”
“Maybe. He definitely knows people who can.”
“You’ve used him before?”
“Once or twice.”
“You trust him?”
“I don’t trust anyone,” he says bluntly. “Except you.”
His arms loosen, and she pulls away just enough to stare into his face. He meets her gaze, holds it. It feels like an eternity, waiting for his lips to twitch, waiting for any hint of a smile to let her know that he’s kidding, waiting to deliver the punchline. Because as shady as some of his friends are—and as shady as he is, at times—of course he doesn’t actuallyknowpeople who can have other people killed. That would be absurd.
But the punchline doesn’t come. He’s dead serious.
Marin can admit she was angry when she got to the bar, but come on. Joking about killing a woman is way out there, even for a guy like Sal with a dark sense of humor. She knows she’s been having terrible thoughts all day, but this is…
And then, finally, a shit-eating grin spreads across Sal’s face.
“Youass.” She smacks him on the arm, and he lets out a hearty laugh. Again, it’s the Sal she remembers from the old days. The wisecracking Sal, the easygoing Sal, the Sal who loves her unconditionally.
Laughter has always made her feel close to him, and before she can think about it, she kisses him.
It’s a sloppy, wet, drunk kiss, and he doesn’t respond to it, but he doesn’t protest, either. She pulls back after a second, feeling her cheeks redden from embarrassment. He doesn’t say anything, just heaves a long sigh, and instantly she wishes she could take it back. She’s had a shitty day, and now she’s made it worse by completely crossing a line she should have never been anywhere near. She opens her mouth to apologize, but before she can say anything, Sal grabs her by the shoulders and throws her back onto the bed.
His tongue is in her mouth and the weight of his body feels heavy and comforting on top of hers. She kisses him back passionately, pushing herself against him as his hands move everywhere, and it’s like they can’t get close enough to each other. His lips are on her lips, her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, and she wants him,all of him, on top of her, inside of her, so she can forget everything she feels, and everything she knows, if only for a little while.
As if sensing her thoughts, he rolls off her as suddenly as he rolled on, sitting up on the bed, his breath coming out fast.
