Chapter 3
The morning after he told me, I waited until his car left the driveway. He had more product in his hair than a regular workday required. I handed him his coffee and said nothing, and I watched the car disappear around the corner, and then I called Bradley.
He answered warmly. Laura, good to hear from you. I told him Trevor and I were hosting a small New Year's Eve dinner and I'd love for him and Vanessa to join us. A pause. He said that was thoughtful, let me ask her. I heard muffled voices, and then Vanessa's tone in the background, sharp and nervous, the specific pitch of someone who has just heard something that requires immediate management. Bradley came back on. He said she already had plans. I said what a coincidence, give me the address she gave you. He read it. My address. Another pause, slower this time. He said that's strange. I said it isn't strange at all, that's my house. By the time the call ended, Bradley had accepted.
Amy came over within the hour, half horrified, half delighted. We went to three stores. Vanessa's favorite wine, which Trevor had mentioned twice without apparently noticing that mentioning your ex's wine preferences to your wife is a particular kind of carelessness. The appetizer. The butternut squash ravioli. The chocolate torte. Amy stood in the pasta aisle and watched me put things in the cart and said you're making her favorite meal, this is revenge not a tribute. I told her it was both.
Every perfect bite, I said, is going to taste different once the truth sits at the table.
New Year's Eve I dressed like I was going somewhere that mattered. Black dress. Red nails. Hair smooth. I lit the candles myself and set the china myself and arranged everything the way I arranged things when the occasion deserved it, which this one did. By six o'clock the table was ready and Trevor was pacing the living room checking his phone with the barely-contained energy of a man who could not quite control how much he was looking forward to seeing her.
At six twenty-eight, headlights crossed the front window.
She's here, Trevor said.
I stayed in the kitchen and let him answer the door. Vanessa's voice came through the house first, warm and proprietary. Trevor, oh my god, you look amazing. Then she was in the entryway in a red sparkle dress with one hand resting on my husband's arm like it had always lived there. She air-kissed my cheeks when I came out and said Laura, this is so sweet, not every wife would be comfortable with this.
I'm very secure, I said.
May you like
Her smile twitched at the edge.
They sat together on the couch. Too close. The ease between them was the ease of people who have been close and have not fully stopped, and Trevor leaned toward her the way he leaned toward things that still had power over him. I moved in and out of the kitchen, refilled glasses, watched. The guests Amy had helped me invite circled the edges of the room with the uncertain energy of people who could feel something building but couldn't identify it yet.
