“True.” I’m surprised to realize I’m glad for both him and Helen that they’ve been able to come to terms with their rocky past and put it behind them. Well, I’m glad for Dean’s sake anyway.
I tell him to lie facedown on the bed, then I straddle the small of his back and start to knead the tension from his shoulders. He lets out a groan of appreciation. His muscles are rigid with knots, but slowly they become pliable under my hands. I work his spine, pressing along the length of it, then back up to his neck. His skin is smooth, taut. I slide my fingers into his hair and massage his scalp and ears.
Within minutes, the rhythm of his body shifts beneath mine. I rub his shoulders awhile longer as he sinks deeper into sleep. Then I climb off and pull the comforter over him.
I give Kelsey a quick call to update her. I look around for the novel I brought with me and realize I’ve left my satchel downstairs. As I head down to retrieve it, I hear Paige and Helen talking in the living room.
Bad Liv. I stop on the stairs to listen. Sure enough, they’re talking about me and Dean.
“I just don’t know what they have in common,” Paige says. Glass clinks on glass as she refills her wine. “He’s so brilliant, you know. So well-regarded. And she… well, she doesn’t do much of anything, from what I can tell.”
Shit. I don’t want to hear this, but I don’t move.
“The sex must be spectacular,” Helen replies, her tone dry.
“Helen!” Paige sounds shocked. “You’re talking about my brother.”
“And my ex-husband. Believe me when I say I know what he can do.”
“Helen.” Paige chokes out a laugh. “She’s pretty, I guess. I’ll give her that. But you think good sex can sustain a marriage?”
“In some cases, apparently.” Now Helen sounds faintly bitter. “Dean said they met in Wisconsin.”
“Madison. She was a student, also working at a coffeehouse. He was a visiting professor at the University of Wisconsin. He brought her home once for Thanksgiving, which was a total disaster.”
There’s a pause before Paige continues. “We thought Dean was just messing around with her, especially when he didn’t mention her again. Then out of nowhere a couple years later, bam! He tells us they’re married. I think Mom is still expecting them to break up and for Dean to find someone more suitable.”
My chest squeezes tight.
“Where does her family live?” Helen asks.
“I’ve no idea. I can’t remember what her parents do. I don’t think she’s ever talked about them, not that I’ve asked. I get the sense they weren’t around much.”
“Probably the reason she latched on to Dean,” Helen says. “You know, stable, successful, handsome guy. She got lucky.”
“Or she got a free ride,” Paige mutters.
Double shit.
“No kids yet, huh?” Helen asks.
“Not that we know of.”
I creep upstairs, then make a bit of noise closing the bedroom door and going back down the stairs. Their conversation comes to a halt when I’m halfway to the living room.
“Hi.” I pause at the door and give them a little wave, as if I’ve just happened upon them. “I came down to get my book.”
They both look at me without blinking. Then Helen reaches for the wine bottle. “Why don’t you join us, Liv?”
“Thanks, but I’m pretty tired.”
“Come on, just one glass.”
Because I am apparently a glutton for punishment, I enter the living room and sit on a chair by the fire. I don’t know what I expect to say to them, except I feel the intense urge to justify my marriage.
Helen holds out the wineglass. I shake my head. Her gaze skims over me, briefly but with a sharpness that makes me self-conscious. I’m wearing a thin robe that I brought because it takes up less space than my padded one. Now I wish I had the cover of the thick robe because Helen continues to look at me as if she’s assessing me physically.
As if she’s still trying to figure out what Dean sees in me.
I push a lock of hair behind my ear and wrap my arms around myself.
“So, I hear you’ve taught at Stanford for years, Helen,” I say brightly.
“Yes. I’ve been there since before Dean and I were married.”
I wonder how often she’s going to remind me that she and Dean were married. Maybe I’ll think up a responding zinger I can use every time she does. Something about Dean’s and my amazing sex life, perhaps.
“Helen and I were just talking about your family, Liv.” Paige’s tone is pleasant, conversational. “I’m afraid I can’t remember what your parents do.”
“My mother is in travel,” I say, repeating the same thing I have for the past ten years. “My father passed away years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Paige says. “Perhaps your mother can join you for a visit sometime. We’d love to finally meet her.”
I mutter something noncommittal.
“Where does she live?” Paige continues.
“In the South.” Last I know about.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Helen asks.