Page 16 of Sweet Ruin

Connor comes over and nudges me gently in the shoulder. “You okay about that?”

“Ask me tomorrow night.” Then, to change the subject, I mention, “Viv came by the shop this morning.”

He freezes, but only for a second. Guess he’s a better actor than me. Then he saunters ever-so-casually back over to poke at the boiling noodles. “Oh, yeah? How’s she doing?”

As if you don’t know.

“Same old Viv,” I say out loud. “Seems fine.”

“Good, good, good,” he mumbles distractedly. Through the thin fabric of his white t-shirt, I can see the mole underneath his shoulder blade. I cringe as the memory of the video rolls through my head again unprompted.

His hand on her hip, gold wedding band glinting.

The headboard.

My sister’s moan.

I shudder and excuse myself to the bathroom.

By the time I come back, Connor has the food plated and on the table. We eat in silence until he kicks me playfully under the table. “Someone’s quiet tonight.”

“Sorry. I’ve been up since midnight.”

“Jesus, Dee.” He sighs. “You work too hard.”

“That’s what everybody keeps telling me,” I say, “and yet, the show goes on.”

I make myself eat, even though I’m not hungry and I can still hear Vivian’s voice calling me fat. You can tell, a little, in your face. It’s probably the stress, honestly. Stress does that.

Yeah. So does your sister and your husband doing the nasty behind your back.

I’m finishing up the last bite when Connor’s phone starts ringing on the counter. He gets up and grabs it, frowns when he sees who’s calling, then slinks back into his office to talk.

I sit and wait. He doesn’t take too long.

“Sorry,” he says when he re-emerges. “You’re not going to believe this.” He’s stepping into his shoes as he talks to me and tucking his phone and keys into his pocket. “Tony’s car battery died.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Who’s Tony?”

“Tony. From my bowling league? He’s out in Gerritsen with no cables and AAA is quoting him four hours because nobody’s working on the holiday. I’ve got cables in the trunk, though, so I told him I’d do him a solid.”

“You want me to come?”

“Oh, please, c’mon now. You’ve been up since yesterday.” He comes close enough to bend down and kiss the top of my head. “Nah. Go to bed, Dee. No need to wait up for me.”

I sit in the chair and listen.

The garage door whines all the way up and all the way down. His car engine gets fainter, fainter, gone.

And then the house is mine.

I count an extra hundred seconds just to be safe, then I jump to my feet.

I put on dish gloves, step up to the sink, and go into the wet char with a spatula. I work a layer at a time, sifting through for anything usable. Most of it comes up as paste. Two pieces hold their shape for a second and then give up.

My phone lights up on the counter.

CONNOR: Might be a while. He needs a tow.