Poppy got on her knees on the bath mat and looked straight in Rowan’s eye. “Ro. Is he just a friend?”
Rowan swallowed hard. Had Natasha said something? Was it obvious? It was humiliating, suddenly, especially because James clearly wasn’t interested in her. Rowan wasn’t the kind of girl who pined. And she wasn’t the kind of girl who came in second.
A hard shell formed around her, blocking off her feelings. “Of course he’s just a friend,” she said firmly, returning Poppy’s gaze. And that was that. She’d made her choice.
Now she and James drained the bottle of Scotch, and Rowan found some red wine in the kitchen. As she poured them glasses, they talked about how they’d once crashed a girl’s bachelorette party and wound up in her limousine. They reminisced about James’s band and their most memorable gigs, including the time they rented an inflatable bounce house to sit next to the stage. “Ah, the sex hut,” James said, clasping his hands behind his neck. “One of my best ideas yet.” A faraway look crossed his face. “That bounce house was like a water bed.”
Rowan flushed. They hadn’t talked about James’s conquests in years; she was out of practice. “Ew,” she said, mock-disgusted.
James grinned. “She didn’t think so. Until I punctured the thing.”
“You punctured it?” Rowan recalled how the bounce house had leaned left toward the end of the night, one of the castle turrets limp. Like a penis, had been the joke.
“My keys were in my pocket,” James explained. “The thing almost swallowed me up. I had to hunt for my pants butt-naked.”
Rowan pictured James trapped inside the bounce house without any clothes on. Then she felt a guilty twinge. Was it a betrayal to talk about James’s player past like this? She wasn’t sure Poppy knew about it—she had never asked, and Rowan hadn’t shared. Rowan wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told, except that it seemed manipulative, as if she was hoping it would make Poppy like James less. Besides, he had changed because of Poppy; she’d made him better, as she made everyone better.
A renewed sense of drunken euphoria swept over Rowan, and she decided she was making too big a deal about all of this. She looked at James and blurted: “I forgot you were like this.”
“Like what?” James cocked his head. “A great deflator of bounce houses?”
“Well, yes. You tell a good story.”
“Well, I haven’t forgotten that you can hang,” James said, leaning forward and placing his hand on her thigh.
Rowan stared at his hand, thinking how she used to marvel over his long, slender fingers. She swallowed hard and reminded herself that he wouldn’t be touching her right now if he weren’t drunk.
But then he leaned toward her. A sizzle darted up Rowan’s spine. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a photograph of herself and Poppy on the mantel, their arms around each other’s shoulders, ecstatic smiles on their faces.
She pulled away. “I think we’re wasted.”
“I’m not.” James’s voice was suddenly sober. He placed his hands on his knees, a pained expression on his face. “Rowan . . . I think Poppy’s cheating on me.”
The temperature rose a few degrees. “What?”
James ran his hand through his hair. “She’s been so distant. It’s like I don’t exist.” He sounded unglued. “I mean, look. I know the signs. I’ve done it to people. Something is really wrong with us.”
Rowan thought back to Skylar’s birthday party. Poppy had seemed a little standoffish. She hadn’t noticed when James disappeared into the bathroom, and she wasn’t looking for him when they reappeared. “She’s overwhelmed. She has a crazy job, two little kids, and the press is still talking about her parents’ accident,” Rowan said, thinking of what she’d read on the Blessed and the Cursed.
“She’s always handled it before. Now, there are times after work when she’s just . . . missing,” James explained. “I’ll call her, and she doesn’t pick up. And I’ve caught her making secret phone calls. Hanging up fast when I come around. It’s why I didn’t go back there tonight. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I had to tell someone.” He grabbed Rowan’s hand. “I almost said something to you about it at Sky’s party. Do you know what’s going on?”
“Of course not!” Rowan cried. She stared down at her hands, her head spinning. James’s fingers were entwined in hers. Slowly she pulled them away. “This is all in your head. Poppy would never do that.”
“You’d be surprised what people do.”
“Not her,” Rowan insisted. “And not to you. You’re a wonderful father and an amazing husband. You’re amazing . . . in general.”
The sentence hung there. James met her gaze. Rowan pressed her lips shut, horrified she’d said it.
A surprised smile appeared on James’s face. “Do you mean that, Saybrook?”
The Scotch felt thick on the roof of her mouth. “Maybe,” she whispered.