I followed Maggie to the kitchen when she went to get chips and dip because she’d decided we needed something salty with our tea.
“I thought we were going to—”
She interrupted me. “It’ll be a blast hanging out with them,” she said. “More exciting than just the two of us.”
“I was excited to be alone with you. No schedule, no distractions…”
She made a sound I couldn’t interpret. “This will be fun. They’ll break up our routine, which is a good thing, right?”
I couldn’t argue with her, but I’d wanted her to myself. That’s what I missed—the feeling that she was all mine. “Maybe they won’t stay the whole week,” I said.
“We need to make them feel welcome. Staying in a high-rise hotel is not the way to enjoy the lake.” Her tone was snappish.
I wanted her to be happy. If this was how she wanted our vacation to play out, maybe it was okay. The important thing was to reconnect. Maybe the distraction of other people would help. Maybe it would bring something fresh to our relationship. Still, sitting naked in the hot tub, sleeping late, making love in the middle of the afternoon were off the table now.
They went outside and got their luggage out of the van. It looked expensive—Skye had two creamy leather-looking bags with dark brown straps and buckles that seemed more for show than practicality. We let them choose the room they preferred from the three unoccupied bedrooms. They chose the one closest to the living room that looked out past several Ponderosa pine trees, across the edge of the sandy beach, and onto the lake.
I wondered whether the house they’d been scammed out of promised a view as perfect as this one. I didn’t ask. No point in rubbing it in. I needed to make the best of the situation. Hopefully, despite Maggie’s desire to fix their vacation, they would stay for a night or two, then have the class to thank us and move on.
In the living room, Joe opened another bottle of wine and refilled all the glasses. We were sinking into the lethargy brought on by pasta, the vacation indulgence of second helpings, far too much wine, and comfortable chairs looking out on a sky filling with stars, surrounding a nearly full moon.
Joe sat on the footstool Maggie had pushed away from the wood and leather armchair where she’d settled. He turned his attention toward Maggie. “You got some sunburn today.”
Maggie pressed her finger into the skin of her upper arm. She giggled. “I did.”
Was this guy flirting with her? It seemed a simple thing—noticing her reddened skin—but it wasn’t something a stranger, a good-looking male stranger, should be noticing. Or at least commenting upon. No, I was reading into it. He wasn’t flirting. It was nothing more than a casual observation. I was mildly drunk, overreacting. I was irritated they’d hijacked our vacation and my annoyance was making me childish. Maggie was right—inviting them had been the right thing to do. The house was large enough for all of us and then some. It wasn’t as if we’d be spending every waking minute together.
No one accepted an invitation like ours, then began flirting with the wife of his host. I needed to put it out of my head. Making an issue out of it would bring the first evening to an end on a sour note. It was nothing.
“I’m surprised you got burned.” Joe took a large swallow of wine. “You already have a great tan. Did you get that at home?”
Had she shifted away from him in her chair? I wasn’t sure. Her expression looked tense, but there was none of the attitude I usually saw in her when she was irritated.
“I play tennis,” Maggie said. “And I like to sunbathe by our pool on Sunday afternoons.”
“Be sure you use a good sunscreen tomorrow when we’re on the beach,” Joe said.
“I will.” She smiled.
Was that smile directed at him? Or the room in general? Again, I couldn’t be sure.
“You don’t want your skin getting damaged,” Joe said.
I stood. “Should we watch a movie?”
“No thanks,” Maggie said.
Joe swallowed more wine. “It’s more fun to party than turning into zombies in front of the TV.” He gave Maggie that easy grin of his, but it seemed to take on a leering quality, or was I imagining that also? The sober voice at the back of my brain said I was projecting, blaming these fun and engaging strangers for the deeply-rooted issues between Maggie and me.
I needed to take my own advice. Advice I’d given on my blog, advice I’d given more than once—don’t read into your partner’s conversations with other people. Don’t let your own insecurity, any unaddressed wounded feelings, color what you think you’re observing.
I wasn’t insecure, but neither was I thrilled with how things were between Maggie and me. And that displeasure was capable of casting a shadow over every word, every gesture.
Joe’s behavior, Maggie’s charming smile that wasn’t meant for me—both meant nothing. I needed to let it go.
5
Joe
Skye woke me up on Sunday morning by blowing on my cheek. It annoyed the shit out of me when she did that, but she wouldn’t stop. She insisted it was the most natural way to wake someone. Shaking a person awake was too violent. She never could explain where she got this expert piece of information. She expected me to just believe her.
She blew on the back of my neck. “I can smell coffee. They’re awake.”
I heaved myself up onto my elbows and looked at her. Even with makeup smeared under her eyes and a crease from the sheet running across her cheek and the sour breath she wanted to blow all over me, she looked hot. I turned and lowered my head to suck on her tit.
She moved away from me, giving me a smile that demanded I put in more effort.
My irritation woke me all the way. I sat up. “What’s your take so far?”
She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. “Hmm.”
“Don’t give me that. I know you have an opinion.”
She smiled without opening her eyes. “Maggie has a secret.”
“What’s that?”
She laughed. “How should I know? I just met her.”
“Then why do you think she has a secret?”
“When she was making the lasagna, she was really rude when I offered to help out.”
“Rude?”
“Yeah. Like she seemed pissed that I was there.”
“So?”
“Every time I went in there, she was texting. The minute she saw me, she would shove her phone in her pocket. And she wouldn’t look me in the eye.”
“Look you in the eye? Oh no!” I laughed. “I thought you had something solid. I thought we could make this more than just a luxury holiday with a grab-and-run. I wonder if she takes the diamond ring off at night.”
“It means she’s hiding something.”
“No, it doesn’t. You were supposed to find out something useful. People text. And they don’t always look you in the eye. In fact, most people don’t look you in the eye most of the time.”
“That’s not true, but I’m not going to argue about what people do. Something’s going on with her.”
“Like what?”