Bryce grabbed the napkin from his lap and wiped his face. He was sure to chew his food thoroughly and swallow before speaking, the complete opposite of Dean. “Mark’s cousin sells insurance and isn’t doing so hot, so he mentioned it to us when we all had beers. They’ve got Riley, and we just redid the house. So, I think it’s a good idea.”
“Or maybe Mark’s planning on killing Karen,” Olivia said, tossing back her head in laughter.
Dean laughed along with her.
Bryce chuckled but shook his head and looked back at me. “We’re all just getting older, and it never hurts to get covered. Plus, with what happened at the salon. We can never be too careful.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Olivia said with a nod. “Death don’t knock first.”
“If anything were to ever happen to me, I’d want to ensure you were taken care of,” he said, reaching out and holding my hand.
“But you’re changing the policy for both of us?” I questioned.
“Yes. Not to bring her up, but Shannon and I did the same thing. We both wanted to make sure the other was set if something were to happen. For Shannon and me, kids were never in the picture, but I think they are for us. I’m thinking long term, sweetheart.” He planted a kiss on my cheek.
I glanced over at Olivia. She was leaning on her elbows, her chin propped up with her hand, hanging on Bryce’s every word. So was Dean. I looked back at Bryce. His eyes were squinty, yet large, begging me to say yes and waiting for my approval.
None of this made any sense. We didn’t have any kids right now, and if I were to die, Bryce would be fine. He was the one with all the money. I wasn’t about to hash this out in front of Olivia and Dean, so I nodded and told him I’d take a look at the policy.
“That’s my girl.” He pulled me in and kissed the side of my head.
“So, what about us?” Dean said to Olivia.
“What about us?” She returned to picking away at her food, barely eating any of it. My plate was nearly clean, but Olivia had only consumed a few bites.
“I think we should do the same. My job isn’t always the safest, and I want you to be well taken care of if something were to happen to me . . . and vice versa.” Dean planted a kiss on Olivia’s cheek.
This whole conversation was odd and definitely not a topic for a dinner party. Who the hell talks about their life insurance policies with people they barely know?
“I think you and Bryce are right. What’s wrong with betting on death?” Olivia laughed.
“Hear, hear.” Dean raised his glass.
Olivia raised hers. Bryce raised his and then looked to me. I followed suit, begrudgingly.
“Cheers to death.” Bryce chuckled. They all tipped back their glasses, extinguishing their laughter with red wine.
I cringed at the very idea of it—toasting to death. I perched the glass to my mouth, letting the red liquid pass my lips, slither across my tongue, and slide down my throat . . . What did I get myself into?
43
Karen
I shut off the lights and closed the door to Riley’s room, quietly whispering, “Good night, my sweet boy.” I tied my hair back into a low ponytail as I made my way down the hallway into the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of opened red wine, I poured two glasses. I drank one and refilled it again, letting out a sigh of relief. I had been waiting for that glass of wine all day, something to numb the worry, the anxiety, the confusion, the heartache—all of it.
The eight miles I ran earlier that morning did nothing but aggravate my knee. Playing in the park all afternoon with Riley only helped busy my mind for brief moments: when he would ask me to watch him jump off the swings, cross the monkey bars, or run as fast as he could to some inanimate object ahead of him. Doing an extravagant house showing this evening just made me feel emptier and more confused. They were brief reprieves from the worrying. I tried reading a book when I put Riley down for a nap, but no matter what I read, the words on the page kept rearranging themselves into questions: Is Mark cheating? Is he sleeping with Olivia? Would Olivia do that to me? Did I even love Mark anymore? Did I really care if my marriage was over? Was my marriage over? Who would I be without Mark? How would Riley react? Did Keisha and I have something real? If we did, could we make it work? How would people treat me as a gay woman? Would it affect my business?
I felt so alive when I was with Keisha, like I was truly living the life I was supposed to live, like I was me for once. So it had to be real, and if it were, could I be mad at Mark if he was cheating too? I took a deep breath, followed by a long sip of wine. I tossed the empty bottle in the trash, grabbed both wineglasses, and made my way to the living room. Mark was lying on the couch waiting to start an episode of Dead to Me.
“Hurry up, I’m going to press Play.” He turned his head to look over at me.
I handed him his glass and took a seat at the end of the couch. He pulled in his feet to make room for me. His hair was a scruffy mess, and he was already dressed for bed in flannel pants and a white T-shirt. Despite the way I was feeling about Mark and Keisha, he was still handsome to me. He still had that boyish charm to him.
“Ready?”
I nodded, and he pressed Play.
The colors swirled on the television. Noise emanated. But nothing of substance registered with me. I was in a trance, my mind trapped within thoughts of what would be. I brought the glass to my lips and took another drink. It didn’t go down smoothly. It got caught in the back of my throat as if I had forgotten how to swallow. I coughed violently, struggling to breathe, struggling to get it down or get it out—much like the lies I had been telling myself all these years and the truths I hadn’t been telling Mark these last few weeks. Mark paused the television and sat up. He grabbed the glass from me, set it down on the table, and patted my back as I tried to catch my breath and clear my throat. Swallow. Breathe. Cough. Mark disappeared and returned moments later with a glass of water. He propped it up to my lips and tipped it back. I gulped half of it down. He pulled the glass away and placed it on the table. I could breathe again. The liquid free from my throat. The lies still buried within me. Rubbing my back, he asked if I was okay.
“Yeah, I just swallowed wrong,” I said breathlessly, not looking at him.
Was he, too, holding on to lies? We were husband and wife, vowed to love one another till death do us part, but we couldn’t even be truthful—or perhaps it was just me. Had I not held up my end of the deal?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He pushed loose pieces of my hair from my face.
I looked over, surveying him, trying to find the deception. Was there any?
“Are we okay?” I asked.
Mark pulled his head back as if he were caught off guard by my question. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was the only one in the wrong.
“Yes . . . at least I think so. Why do you ask?” He returned his hands to his lap and leaned back a little, increasing the space between us.
“I don’t know. You’ve just been distant, and we haven’t been intimate in months,” I confessed. I needed to put it all out on the table, or at least most of it. I needed to make sense of my feelings for Keisha and my lack of feelings for Mark.
“I know. I’ve been overworked, and I haven’t been the best husband. I was planning to cut down my hours in the Miami office come the New Year, and I was going to surprise you for Christmas with a vacation for just the two of us.” He let out a deep breath.
“Really?” I felt entirely guilty now. A little over a week ago, we got into a fight over the idea of him taking a vacation, and now he wanted to take one and cut his hours. Was he telling the truth? Had I blown things out of proportion? My eyes glistened from the condensation of my guilty conscience.
“Of course.” He reached for my hands and held them, rubbing his thumb tenderly on me.
I wanted to tell him right then and there what I had done, what was going on between Keisha and me. I wanted to talk to him about how confused I was. He was my husband after all. He would understand.
He leaned in and gave me a soft kiss on my lips.
As we pulled away from each other, I looked him in the eyes, ready to tell him the truth. “Mark—”
“Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” he interrupted.