“I should leave him.” She can’t meet his gaze when she speaks these words.
“Yes, you should.” He doesn’t even blink, and the shame washes over her like dirty bathwater. “Does Derek know you know?”
She shakes her head. It’s easier to have this conversation not looking at Sal, so she focuses on the TV again, where someone wearing a red uniform just got knocked down by someone wearing a white uniform and is crying foul about it.
“How’d you find out?”
“Castro told me. She was following a lead. Discovered it accidentally.”
Sal almost chokes on a fry. “The PI? She’s still investigating?”
“I told you that.”
“No, you didn’t. You said you hired her for a month, a year ago. You haven’t mentioned her since, so I assumed … Holy shit…”
“Why does this bother you so much?”
“It doesn’t bother me,” he says. “It worries me. I feel you’re…”
“What? Say it.”
He looks away, chewing on his bottom lip. She takes his chin and turns his face back toward her.
“Say it,” she says.
“It’s like you’re in exactly the same place you were when Sebastian went missing.” She takes her hand away, and he holds her gaze. “You haven’t moved forward. You’re … stuck.”
“You sound like my therapist.” The fourth cocktail is hitting her, and her tongue is loosening. “Am I going to have to break up with you, too?”
“You stopped seeing Dr. Chen?”
“Not officially yet. But he also keeps saying I’m stuck.”
“What does Derek think about that?”
“Since when do you care what Derek thinks?”
“I normally don’t. But you didn’t see him last year, Mar. After the … after the scare.”
She’s learning that nobody ever likes to use the word suicide. People will use every other term they can think of to avoid saying that word. They’ll say, that time you tried to hurt yourself. Or, back when you were in a bad place.
She tried to kill herself. She can admit it—why can’t anyone else?
“I’d never seen him so scared.” Sal is chewing on a fry, and it’s like he’s talking to himself more than to her. A small bit of garlic rests on his lip, and she reaches forward, flicks it away. “He thought he was going to lose you. He was a fucking wreck. You didn’t tell him you stopped therapy, did you?”
“In fairness, today’s the first time I canceled on Dr. Chen without rescheduling. I may go back. I don’t know yet.”
He studies her. “So … what’s different about it this time?”
This time. He means the affair. Because there was one other time, a long time ago.
“She’s twenty-four,” Marin says. “And it’s been going on for six months.”
“Fuck.” Sal draws the word out, and that’s how she knows it’s as bad as she thinks it is. Fuuuuuuck. He grabs another fry and munches on it furiously. This little gesture alone makes her feel a bit better. A true friend is someone who stress-eats with you even though the stressful thing isn’t happening to them.
She reaches for her phone and shows him the nude selfie. “She has pink hair.”
He takes the phone from her and looks closely at the photo, his eyes widening slightly. His jaw twitches, and for a second she assumes he’s angry. But then he chuckles.
“This is funny to you?” she snaps.
“I’m sorry.” He chokes back another laugh and hands her back the phone. “It’s just … the hair. The tats. It’s like he’s trying to find the exact opposite of you.”
“She’s beautiful.”
He waves a hand. “So are you. That’s not the point. That’s not the point of any of this.”
“Stop smiling. This is not okay.”
“No, it’s not,” he says, and his smile fades. He puts his hands on her shoulders and shakes her. “It’s not okay at all. So why are you here? Why are you not, right this moment, sitting in front of a divorce attorney discussing how to get the fuck out of this marriage?”
She doesn’t answer. Because she doesn’t know the answer. Her brain hasn’t yet caught up to her emotions.
It’s funny how life can blow up in a matter of minutes. One minute, you have a son. The next minute, he’s gone. One minute, your husband is faithful. The next, he’s screwing a twenty-four-year-old, and you’re wondering if your best friend actually knows a guy. Because if anyone knows a guy, it’s Sal.
He pats her thigh. “Okay. Time to make a plan. I’ll help. Want to crash with me for a few days while you figure things out? The condo has a spare room,