“I’m not your wife.”
Matt poked his eggs again. “We need to talk about that. I want to make a new deal. To save our marriage.”
She thought he’d exhausted ways to hurt her. But now she knew he’d probably always have that power. They made vows to each other, trusted each other enough to build a life. And he’d waited until now, when they could barely make eye contact without wincing, to decide it was something worth saving.
Rachel grabbed the edge of the table so she wouldn’t throw eggs in his face. Matt held up his hands and said, “Hold on,” like she’d already taken aim at his head. “I know you’re angry. And so was I, for a long time. But I think that was the problem. I was angry because I thought you’d abandoned me. You seemed so unhappy, that it was like you’d completely checked out of this marriage. But I think I was the one who abandoned you.”
Matt explained how her disappearance had put things in perspective. “This is our family, Rachel. We owe it to each other, to Faith, to at least try.” He started to reach for her, but she flinched, and he splayed his hand against the table instead. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I’d like to work on earning your trust again.”
If he’d said the same thing a few months ago, the night of the birthday party, she might have listened. She might have handed over her heart, again and again, because that’s what “for better, for worse” meant. Matt had always been good with words—pitch perfect and so sincere that you felt them in your stomach. But he wasn’t safe. He was a fairy tale she’d repeated to herself enough times to forget it wasn’t real. She’d never make that mistake again.
Rachel stood, dumped out her food, and walked out of the kitchen. He didn’t follow her. She went upstairs and called Julia, who was equally skeptical about Matt’s sudden change of heart. “Herman Abbott responded to my request for financial records instead of Matt. They’re closing ranks, so watch your back.”
She was right. An hour later, Rachel’s father-in-law was on her doorstep. Herman’s smile faltered when she skipped her usual polite greeting.
“Matt isn’t here.”
“I’m actually here to see you.”
She paused. “I was about to head out.”
His eyes went from her face to her bare feet. The last time he saw her without makeup was probably the family beach trip when she was twenty-five. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“I also don’t want to talk to you.”
“That I believe.” He placed a hand against the door. “Please, Rachel. A few minutes of your time.”
His voice was even and polite in a way some people found seductive. Rachel wasn’t fooled. He was pretending to ask permission while his hand blocked the door. She didn’t have the strength to argue.
“Are you going to stand there?” he asked as he sat on the sofa.
“You’re wasting minutes.”
“Okay.” He laced his fingers. “You’re angry. It’s understandable.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My son’s stupidity.”
“You know he cheated on me?”
“Yes, I do. I also know that you agreed to stay until the election.” He studied her face. “How much did you ask for?”
She sighed. He was sitting there, calm as a frog on a lily pad, asking how much hush money his son paid his wife to keep his secrets. This family made her sick. “Not enough.”
He smirked. “When it’s for your dignity, it never is.” He scanned the room, eyes resting on a framed wedding photo. “I’m impressed you kept things together this long. I never would have known it was so bad if he hadn’t told me. My son can be very shortsighted about his own best interests. He only thinks about what he wants in the moment. At one point that was you.”
“Which you never approved of.”
“Not at first, no.” He paused. “But I was wrong about you, Rachel. I know I should have said something before now, but sentiment doesn’t come naturally to me. You’ve been a good influence on him. Calming. Rational, when he lost focus.” He leaned forward. “When we poll Matt as an unmarried candidate, he’s unelectable. No one trusts him. Not without you there. Beautiful. Respectable. You convince voters he’s more than just another trust fund, Ivy League kid.”
The revelation turned her stomach. She should have known Matt’s change of heart was prompted by the numbers on some spreadsheet. “Why are you here?”
“To fix his mistake.” Herman leaned back and crossed his legs. “Neither of you has any idea how to negotiate. He should have made the initial offer. And you should have demanded enough to make following through worth it. You have no incentive to keep your word.”
“I won’t tell anyone about his affair.”
“But you won’t stay either.” He tilted his head. “Will you?”
It was like being pinned beneath a microscope. She needed to get rid of him before he started plucking away her defenses like the wings on a dead fly. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Because you’ve decided money doesn’t matter,” he said. “But what about Faith? Matt told me how well she’s doing at that expensive culinary school. And that apartment in New York? It’d be a shame to lose all that so suddenly.”
His nonchalance was terrifying. She eyed a nearby vase. It was light enough to throw but heavy enough to do damage. “Are you threatening her?”
Herman looked insulted. “Faith is family. I don’t threaten my family. I help them.” He pulled out a white envelope from his suit jacket. “This is an agreement, already signed.”
Rachel stared at the envelope. Deciding whether to accept it felt like haggling over her soul. But her curiosity won. She snatched it from his hand and pried it open. The amount made her gasp. “Oh my god.”
She looked up at him, and he stared back, inscrutable. “You’ll stay through the congressional primary next year and we’ll negotiate an additional agreement after. You and me. Matt will have nothing to do with this.”
She wanted to fling it back into his face. She wanted to have never seen the trust agreement, with all the zeros under Faith’s name. But her fingers tightened around the envelope, like they had a will of their own. “I need to think about it.”
Herman stood and straightened his jacket. “I would expect nothing less. Like I said, Rachel. You were always the smart one.”
Nathan had expected Joe to leave for the office as soon as they reached the laundromat. Even on a Sunday. Instead, he stood in the middle of Nathan’s apartment, scowling at the air. His brother was never this quiet. It went on for so long that Nathan finally lost patience. “Is this silent treatment some kind of punishment?”
“She’s a distraction,” Joe said. Nathan started to protest, but Joe lifted a hand to stop him. “It’s what you do. Escape somewhere…” He glanced at Nathan’s sketchbook. “Into something, so you don’t have to feel anything.”