“So he was abusive.”
“You didn’t hear that from me.” She looked at her watch, jumped up. “Goodness, I am so sorry, but I have another appointment. Please excuse me. And if there’s anything else I can do, don’t hesitate to get in touch. I am worried sick about her. I really hope she’s just holed up somewhere, making us all sweat.”
“Thanks for your time.”
Holly went to her car, reviewed her notes, adding a bit here and there as she recalled something. Two women, two somewhat disparate views of who Sutton Montclair really was.
Her voice mail was blinking. A message from Ellen Jones. Holly hit Play.
“Officer Graham, I will be home in about an hour. Please feel free to stop by.”
Holly looked at the car’s clock. Good timing, Mrs. Jones.
AN UNEXPECTED SURPRISE
Then
“I have a secret,” Ethan said.
“Oh?” Sutton poured the wine into the large glasses she favored, the ones without stems, so the bowl sat directly on the table. He didn’t like them—the stem served a purpose, to keep fingers off the bowl, so the heat wouldn’t interfere with the wine’s opening process—but she thought they were fun and had consigned all the traditional Waterford stemware to the attic. At least she’d let him keep the lowballs.
“Out with it, then. What’s this big secret?”
He took a mouthful of the Brunello. He’d opened it especially; had decanted it for an hour. This taste was like heaven. Rich, spicy, bold. Be bold, Ethan. Be very bold.
“It’s ancient history, really. You’ll have a laugh when I tell you.”
She was making stir-fry, with chicken, and the wooden spoon hovered over the wok. He saw a shadow cross her eyes.
“If you’ve had an affair, I don’t want to hear about it. Truly, Ethan, I don’t. After the last time...it nearly broke me.”
“Sutton, no, it’s nothing like that. I swore to you I would never be unfaithful again, and I’ve been true to my word. Never mind. Forget it. I was being silly. I’ll set the table, and we can have dinner. It looks delicious.”
She set the wooden spoon in its pewter holder. Crossed her arms on her chest.
Shit. This wasn’t how he wanted her tonight, defenses up. He wanted them to have a nice, normal evening. Dinner, a lovely wine, maybe a little adult playtime before the baby had to nurse again.
He stepped to her, massaging the back of her neck. Nuzzled for a moment. She let him. She’d been so much more physical since the baby, the whole pregnancy, really. She liked being touched, and not only during sex. It was as if the old Sutton was back, the woman he knew in the beginning, ravenous for the touch of his skin on hers.
She smelled like milk and baby and honeysuckle, a weird combination that managed to be both off-putting and erotic at the same time.
“Taste the wine. Tell me what it reminds you of.”
She shut her eyes, sniffed, took a sip.
“The dinner at the vineyard in Montalcino. The wine tasted like liquid gold. When I told the owner he laughed at me.”
“He didn’t laugh at you, he was delighted, and wanted to change the name of the wine to Sutton’s. I’ve bought a case. That’s my secret. I thought you’d like it for special occasions.”
She opened her eyes. The warmth in them was hard to miss. They shone with pleasure, her beautiful eyes, luminous and wide, the gray blue of late-summer evenings, thickly rimmed in lashes women would pay money for.
“What a lovely surprise. This is a special occasion, I take it? The outing of your secret?”
Good, she was back to playful mode. He kissed her, lingering and slow, until he felt the muscles unclench in her back and she leaned into him, soft and wanting, and gave him a regretful look when he pulled away.
“There’s more, I’m afraid. I used the monthly deposit into Dashiell’s bank account to buy the wine. I hope you’re not angry.”
“That you’re drinking away your son’s future? That the poor child will have nothing left to live on when we pass, much less go to college? You’re forgiven.” She took another sip, comically smacked her lips. “Actually, I heartily approve of your fiscal irresponsibility.”
Goodness, she was in a good mood.
“I think you have another secret,” she said. “You can tell me. I swear I won’t be upset. I think it’s high time you told me anyway, don’t you? I mean, I already know.”
Could she possibly be serious? “About Dashiell?”
“You have a secret about Dashiell? Let me guess. You’re not his real father. No, that’s not it. I’m not his real mother.” Her eyes began to dance, and she stepped back, a wide smile on her face. “No, silly. I heard you typing. You’ve started a new book, haven’t you?” She snapped his leg with the dish towel. “That’s why you bought the fabulous wine. I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me. What’s it about? Please tell me.”
Ethan turned away, busied himself with the wine. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Lie. Lie, right the fuck now.
But Sutton had already caught on. So perceptive, his wife.
“You haven’t started a book.”
“No.”
“Then what did you mean earlier? You have a secret about Dashiell? Did you drop him or something?” She sighed, huge and gusty, the wine sweet on her breath. “I’ve told you a thousand times, you need to pick him up with both hands, not try to hoist him out of the crib like a football—”
“Darling, please. Stop. I didn’t drop the boy. He’s fine. Let it go, okay? Let’s just drink the wine and have dinner.”
But that wasn’t going to happen; he could see the anger simmering in her eyes. It all turned on a dime with them. It always did.
“Tell me what you’ve done to him.”
He didn’t answer. She gave dinner a stir.
“I’ll give you one more chance. Talk.”
Oh, he was so royally, completely screwed. But the weight of it was dragging him down. It was time to be out with it. She’d hate him, but she’d forgive him, eventually.
“It’s a funny thing, actually. When we’re old, you’ll look back on this moment and laugh and laugh.”
Silence.
He took a sip for courage. “Before you got pregnant, I switched your birth control pills out with sugar pills.”
More silence. Then she took a step toward him, her face aflame. “What? What did you just say?”
He held up his wineglass, smiling. “I knew you needed a little nudge toward getting pregnant. I knew you had doubts. I figured if it happened, great. And it did. Look what we made.” He gestured toward the baby. Dashiell was parked in his seat on the dining room table in his carrier, deeply asleep, a small mobile of butterflies hanging above him, barely disturbed by his breath. “He’s perfect!”
Sutton’s face went blank with shock.
“I wanted a child so badly, and I knew you did, as well. Deep down, you did. And it’s been so good for us. He’s been so good for us. Our marriage has never been stronger. You love him so much, and so do I. He’s made everything right between us.”