The Art of Scandal

That’s when Nathan knew that it was over. Like in his dream, they had swum too far.

He put on jeans and grabbed a T-shirt. Rachel started to follow, but he shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. Maybe Joe thought he was alone. Maybe he would assume Nathan brought a date to the lake without telling anyone. The maybes ran through his mind as he took the stairs down to the living room two at a time, but Joe’s expression killed them instantly. His eyes were flint. He said, “Put your shirt on,” with a coldness that Nathan had only heard once in his life before.

Joe had a pen that Abuelita had given him when he graduated from college. It was a monogrammed Montblanc that he carried around like a witch cradling a magic wand. He would use it to forge their mother’s signature when Nathan brought home another failing test grade. Nathan had loved that pen. He loved the onyx color and the clean lines of ink it left on paper. He had loved how Joe’s penmanship would gleam silver in the light as he wrote out their shared lie. And most of all, he had loved the fact that every now and then Joe would let him use it. He would entrust this beautiful thing that symbolized all his accomplishments to his little brother without a warning to be careful, or to put it back where it belonged. And Nathan had been careful—right up until the day he wasn’t. It took him three days to finally admit that he lost it. Joe hadn’t yelled. He’d stared at Nathan with stony eyes and said, “It’s just a fucking pen,” in that same icy tone.

That look was worse than yelling. It was Joe, giving up and calcifying his expectations of his little brother. I guess this is who you are. And standing in front of Joe at the lake house, Nathan couldn’t argue. Instead, he shrugged into his shirt.

Joe looked past him, at the stairs. “Is she here?”

“Is who—”

“Don’t lie to me. Matt Abbott told Mia that Rachel was missing. She asked if I’d seen you.” He finally met Nathan’s eyes. “I said of course not. What would Nate have to do with Rachel Abbott going missing? She probably thinks I’m an idiot.”

“Mia knows?” Nathan winced at how guilty it sounded. “What did Matt say to her?”

Joe’s face was red. “You mean does he know that his wife’s cheating on him with the local laundry boy? Pretty sure he doesn’t.”

Nathan’s guilt vanished. If Joe wasn’t pulling punches, neither would he. “He’s the one having an affair. I saw him with his mistress at the anniversary party.”

“And that makes it okay?” Joe shook his head. “What the hell has she gotten you into?”

Joe looked up at the sound of footsteps. Nathan turned to see Rachel, dressed in the baggy sweatshirt and leggings he’d bought for her. “You can ask me,” she said. “My answers will probably disappoint you, but it’s not fair to take it out on him.”

Joe shook his head. “The whole way up here, I didn’t believe it. Mom said you two were close, and I thought, well that’s great. My brother needs a mentor. But then I got the notification about the alarm out here being disabled. And then I remembered that Nate’s seeing some woman, and it’s complicated. You two are terrible at covering your tracks.”

“We weren’t trying to,” Rachel said. She walked down the stairs and stopped before she reached Nathan. He wanted to build a wall between her and his brother. “Nathan’s right, this wasn’t an affair.”

Nathan could sense Joe winding up to say something cruel and raised his hand. “We didn’t come out here on purpose. It was car trouble. I blew a tire on the east highway.”

“That was Friday,” Joe said. “It doesn’t take thirty-six hours to fix a tire.”

Nathan shifted to one side, blocking his view of Rachel. “The rest is none of your business.”

Joe laughed. “You’re kidding, right? What did you two plan to do, run away together?” Joe paused. “You can’t do that, Nate,” he said, his anger fading into concern. “You can’t disappear again. Not now. Dad—” He swallowed hard and looked at Rachel. “We need him here.”

Rachel touched Nathan’s shoulder. He reached for her hand, but she stepped past him to face Joe. “We’re not running away,” she said. “And I’m sorry about your father.”

“If you’re sorry, maybe don’t wreck what’s left of our family before he’s gone.” Joe looked at Nathan. “What do you think will happen when word gets out that you’ve been fucking Matt Abbott’s wife? That guy is on every cable news show in the country. So is she.” He flung a hand at Rachel. “They’ll rip you both apart along with anyone else who gets caught in the crossfire. Me. Mom. Beto.” He looked at Rachel. “You have a daughter—”

“That’s enough,” Nathan yelled. Joe looked shocked. Nathan had never yelled at his brother before. “Joe, you need to leave.”

“No,” Rachel said, facing Nathan. “I should leave. If Matt called Mia, it means he knows something. I have to go.”

Nathan could barely process what was happening. He sputtered, “No. No, don’t,” and moved toward her, but she stepped back and looked at Joe.

“Can I take your car?”

Joe offered her his keys. Nathan thought of what Beto said, how he didn’t think before he reached for their mother. That’s what had stopped him from losing her. Holding on.

Nathan grabbed Rachel’s hand. “Please don’t do this.” If his brother weren’t there, he might have been on his knees. “Stay. We can figure this out. We’ll go back, together.”

Rachel didn’t look at him. She stared at the floor, rubbing her eyes hard enough to mark her skin. “You have to let me go.”





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


It was six in the morning when Rachel finally arrived home. The stillness she encountered when she walked into the foyer made her uneasy. She’d been expecting fireworks. Shouting. Instead, Lenora had quietly taken her bag of dirty clothes and asked if she wanted coffee. Rachel declined because while she was pretty sure Lenora wasn’t trying to poison her, the whole situation was strange enough to make her cautious.

She found Matt in the kitchen, hunched over a cast-iron skillet. He never wanted her to cook for him when they were dating. He’d pour her a glass of wine, tell her to put her feet up, and listen to stories about her café customers while he struggled with a recipe. The food was terrible. But it was a lot easier to choke down underseasoned vegetables when it was someone’s love for you on the plate.

Rachel sat at the kitchen island, unnerved as he served her charred bacon with runny scrambled eggs. She took a bite to be kind, but it turned to ash on her tongue. She decided to abandon kindness and get to the point instead. “Why did you call Mia?”

“I was worried.” Matt poked and glared at the food like it had betrayed him. “The outdoor stops got canceled because of the storm. When I came home, no one knew where you were. I thought something might have happened to you. That you’d been in an accident, or someone had taken you.” He shook his head. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was just frantic about my missing wife.”

He said it smoothly, like the last few months had never happened.

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