if not longer. He steps toward her, his arms outstretched as if he’s going in for a hug. It’s weird, and instinctively she steps back. What’s he doing? They’ve never hugged before—the dude doesn’t even like to shake hands. Guy’s some kind of germaphobe, and she remembers he always carries a packet of those antibacterial wipes in his pocket.
Tonight, though, he’s wearing gloves. Except it’s not that cold.
“Is J.R. with you?” Kenzie asks.
Julian doesn’t answer. Instead, he smiles.
The last thing she remembers is his gloved fist connecting with her jaw, a hard pop before her knees buckle for real and everything goes black.
PART THREE
Down in a hole and I don’t know if I can be saved
—ALICE IN CHAINS
Chapter 21
Derek’s left hand is on the steering wheel, and his right hand rests on Marin’s knee. It’s such a small thing, such a tiny gesture, but his palm on her leg says everything about where they are today.
He was right—they needed this weekend away. Whistler was Derek’s idea, and he planned the entire thing without her knowing. The night after Marin wired two hundred fifty thousand dollars to a man named Julian to have Derek’s mistress murdered, her husband came home, handed her an anniversary card, and asked if they could start over.
She didn’t know what had changed. The day before, he’d broken up with McKenzie and then almost immediately had wanted her back. But something had shifted in the short time since then. He seemed different. As he reached for her hand, he was once again the Derek she remembered, the Derek she married.
“It’s been twenty years, Marin,” he said, his face anguished. “If you had to do it all over again, would you?”
Would she? Of course she would. They’d had two decades together, most of them good, minus that one mistake Derek made early on in her pregnancy. Up until the last sixteen terrible months—which were entirely her fault—they’d been solid. A trip away to celebrate might seem sudden, but at some point, you have to pick a direction. And wasn’t this what she wanted? Wasn’t this the point?
“I would do it over again,” she said, and meant it.
An hour later their bags were packed, their skis were on the roof, Sadie was notified, and they were on their way to the mountains.
Neither of them are perfect. Neither of them are without blame. Nothing is fixed. But finally, it feels like they’ve turned a page. It’s the way her husband is touching her knee, singing along to Nirvana. It’s the way she’s not cringing because he’s touching her. It feels like them again. She feels like herself again. It feels like the chance for a fresh start.
Fighting your way out of despair isn’t linear. It isn’t like one good thing happens and suddenly everything’s better, and hallelujah, your shitty days are now behind you. At least it isn’t like that for Marin. But today is a good day, and after months and months of living in a black hole, she’ll take it.
Derek pulls into the driveway so he can switch cars. He already told her he’s not coming inside, that he has work to finish up at the office before a big meeting tomorrow. It’s fine; she knows work is a big part of who he is. She understands it helps him cope.
The salons are closed on Sundays, which means there’s nowhere Marin needs to be. Every part of her out-of-shape body is sore from four days on the slopes, and she’s looking forward to a hot bath and a good book.
“I’ll be back around eight.” Derek turns the volume down on the car’s stereo. “I can pick up Greek for dinner. Chicken souvlaki? Or do you feel like Indian? Tikka masala, garlic naan?”
“I think you’re hungry,” she says, and he laughs.
He rubs her thigh, and a tingle goes through her. “What can I say, I burned a lot of calories this weekend.”
He could mean because of all the skiing, but he doesn’t. She and her husband reconnected over the past few days. In every way.
“Let’s cook,” she says, feeling ambitious. “I’ll season a couple of ribeyes, and they’ll be ready for grilling when you get home.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. I can do Brussels sprouts on the side, unless you want something starchy? It’s been a while since I’ve messed up the kitchen.”
What she really means is that it’s been a long time since she’s felt like cooking. Roasted Brussels sprouts cooked with bacon and smothered in Parmesan cheese pairs perfectly