Always the Last to Know by Kristan Higgins Page 0,87

. . . or smelling some other woman.

Perhaps she should lay off the wine.

Which wouldn’t calm her fears. Oliver had never once indicated anything but happiness in their marriage, but it happened. Half of marriages ended in divorce! Half! Why were she and Ollie any better than anyone else? She’d spent half her workday Googling “why do men have affairs?” It happens even in the best marriages, the literature said darkly.

So it could happen to them. Had she and Oliver fought? Of course. About stupid things, like . . . well, like the time she had to leave vacation early because of a work crisis a few years ago. The time he broke her favorite mug, because even though she told him it was fragile and special to her, he handled dishes as if he didn’t have opposable thumbs. The way he let Brianna get away with things when Juliet tried to lay down the law. But they’d never spoken about unhappiness or a lack of love. Never. They’d never raised their voices to each other. Never.

Mom and Dad had never fought, either.

So reminding Oliver that she was a desirable woman who loved sex and was spontaneous and adventuresome, especially after she hadn’t been able to kiss him for the past three days, thanks to those stupid injections . . . that was on her list. As was coming to this party, because Mom was utterly heroic, doing all this, trying to get people around Dad. (God. If she only knew.)

Juliet had dressed up for this evening, which Mom always appreciated, and wore a stretchy white dress that required a serious bra, which currently seemed to be intent on embedding itself in her rib cage. Three-inch red suede heels she hadn’t worn in years. A thong for the planned seduction. A thong that may or may not have worked itself into her lower intestine.

Sparkly. Sparkly. She had to be sparkly. She’d talked to everyone here tonight—the event planner Mom thought so highly of, Noah, Mickey Watkins, Ted, Caro, Sadie’s friend from the city, who was very nice. She’d held little Marcus. Endured Sadie’s predictions of a full recovery for their father. If only Sadie knew. God. That would kill her, knowing their dad had had an affair. The two of them had always been so close. Dad had never paid too much interest in Juliet. Not that she resented it. Much. Anymore.

She finished her glass of wine and got another before everyone sat down. Sadie had been in charge of the wine tonight, and Juliet had brought a couple of additional bottles, correctly anticipating that her sister wouldn’t bring enough. Not that she was cheap; she just wouldn’t think too hard about how many people were coming.

“How’s the house, Sadie?” she asked brightly as everyone sat down to dinner. “Fallen in the Sound yet?”

“Not yet,” Sadie said. “A few shingles blew off the roof last night, but I plan on getting up there and fixing all that.”

“Please don’t,” Noah said. “Hire someone.”

“I think I’m very handy, actually,” she said. “But thanks for your concern.”

“You’re handy?” Carter asked. Yes, Carter, that was his name. The friendly friend from the city. “Remember when you broke the sink in the teachers’ bathroom because you forgot which way the knobs turned?”

“I have no recollection of that event, no,” Sadie said, grinning. Always getting away with being a ditz and thinking it was charm. Maybe it was. Maybe Juliet should try it.

“Does anyone mind if I breastfeed?” asked Mickey, and, not waiting, pulled up her shirt and attached the baby. “No one is scared of boobs, right? Although I have to say, they do look a little scary these days. No one told me I’d become Joan from Mad Men after popping out this little bruiser. I was a 34-B before Noah knocked me up.” She glanced at Gillian, who looked green. “Sorry. Shit, Gillian, I’m really sorry. You too, Sadie.”

Right. Right. The event planner had been engaged to Noah. The baby was making smacking sounds.

Sadie’s teacher friend smiled. “I love watching a woman breastfeed,” he said. “So natural.”

“Thanks, dude,” Mickey said. “You’re okay.”

Dad, too, was staring at Mickey’s breast. It was hard to miss, but was he looking at it lustfully? And if so, doubly gross, because (a) it belonged to a woman not his wife and (b) it was feeding a baby, so lusting was just icky.

She really had to tell her mother about that other woman. Or she really shouldn’t ever tell