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Gus
“Nice fire,” Chris said,joining me on the patio.
Fuck.Of all the people packed inside our house, drinking wassail and playing Dickensian party games—Decca’s idea of a festive good time—he’dbe the one to join me out here.
“Decca built it.” I placed another log on the already raging inferno. It was overkill, but ever since Decca had told me about the job, burning shit had felt like a good idea.
He nodded once, politely. “How’s your father? Dec told me about his cancer.”
I flinched at his question. At his shortening of her name. Decca and Chris were so familiar. Had been for so long. Would this ever get easier? Would I be this jealous every time she went to work, knowing he might be there, spending their nights in the same hotel? I hated this side of myself.
Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a jealous, fucking asshole.
He held out a beer with a colorful label. I didn’t recognize the name, but why not? I grudgingly took it. Maybe I’d even drink it.Maybe I’d drink more than one. Maybe I’d get drunk and pretend this wasn’t the man my wifeshouldhave married.
I downed half the bottle in one go. Chris stared at me, his eyes wide.
I lowered the bottle and shrugged. “It’s cancer. He’s on hospice.” I stared into the fire.
“I didn’t realize it’d progressed that much. I’m sorry.”
“How’s work?” I said quickly.
He cleared his throat and pushed his tortoiseshell glasses higher onto his nose, the flames reflected in his lenses. “Uh… good. Slowed down some, finally.”
I knew the guy was just trying to be nice; get to know his friend’s husband. But I was still uncomfortable as fuck knowing he’d been Decca’s go-to cock to ride whenever she felt like getting off. Maybe in time, we’d all be great friends. But it was a lot less likely now that I suspected he was pushing her into this job.
The one close to him.
“Tell me about this job.”
Chris dropped the pretense of fraternity. “She told you?”
I nodded.
“She’d be the head of the department.” He took a sip from his own bottle. “The youngest, probably ever, not that that’s a selling point for her. For her, it’s just about making the biggest difference in the shortest amount of time. And she could do that there. With us.”
Right.Us.
“She seemed pretty adamant she doesn’t want it. Didn’t even mention it until today.”
He took a deep breath and looked at me—sized me up, was more like it. “Don’t you think that’s because she feels obligated to stay here? For you.”
“Marriage tends to do that.” I shot him a look of warning. “Make people feel obligated to live in the same town.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to come between you. I’m only letting you know that I’ve known Decca for over ten years, and during that time, the only constant in her life has been her career. Why do you think she’s so overeducated and that she’s busted her ass publishing her research? Why she’s willing to work for the state for pittance, doing the jobs of three people? Positions have come up again and again. Positions she’s qualified for. And she’s never had the confidence to go after them. She needs someone to push her.”
“It sounds like you don’t think she’s capable of making her own decisions.”
“She’s capable of it. But she’ll choose wrong. She’s a people-pleaser. She won’t choose what’s best for her.”
“Maybe staying here is what’s best for her.”
“Maybe it is.” He actually looked sincere. “Clearly, she’s happy here. With you, in this home you’ve built. Her friends all around her. Maybe you’re right, and I don’t know her anymore. I just want you to be aware that she might be putting your needs first. To her own detriment. This is your decision to make together; you and Decca. But you can’t make good decisions without all the information.”
“And this has nothing to do with the fact that you two used to—”
“Nothing. I’m not trying to get her back.”
