Beatrice wishes me happy birthday as I walk into the office. I forgot it was my birthday. And, I forgot about tonight … my husband is coming home. I wonder if he’ll know. If he’ll instantly feel that something has shifted inside of me. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. We’re anything but bulletproof, but this isn’t how I imagined us going down.
I can fix this … I have to fix this. Tonight is the first step toward that.
“Were you able to get a reservation? I never did ask.”
Beatrice smiles. That woman could con Bill Clinton into becoming a Republican in less than five minutes. “Your top choice. Table overlooking the ocean.”
“I should give you a raise.”
“Your husband told me I hit the top of the pay scale two years ago.”
I shrug. “He’s never in the office so we may have to take a second look at the rules.”
For at least a couple hours, things feel normal. My mind stays busy, answering emails and taking a few phone calls. And every time it wants to circle back to last night, I buzz Beatrice and ask for another cup of coffee or a file from her desk. I can count on her to talk—to temporarily clear my mind of things. But as a circle goes, the thoughts always return. Should I tell Cole about River, or simply pretend it never happened?
I don’t like the thought of either. One clears my conscience, but puts our whole marriage on a tight rope. The other hides my indiscretion while sentencing me to a life of self-condemnation. Neither erases the guilt.
A knock sounds at my door, and Beatrice walks in with a bouquet of white tulips. “Looks like Cole wanted to wish you a happy birthday before his plane landed,” she remarks, placing the vase on my desk.
“Those are pretty,” I say, touching the base of my neck. Cole always gets me red roses. Always. Maybe this is his way of getting us out of our routine.
“Would you like to me run and grab us some lunch?” she asks after seconds of silence pass.
“I’m not feeling all that hungry today,” I answer honestly. Guilt should be a diet pill.
“Are you feeling okay?”
I sit up straight in my chair. “Yeah, it’s just been a long week, and I’m anxious for Cole to get home. Besides, I don’t want to ruin dinner.”
“Well, if you change your mind, I’m running to the deli on the corner. You know my number.”
I nod, focusing my attention on the flowers as she walks out. Anxious, I pull the envelope with my name penned on it and slip the card out. My heart drops.
Without a second thought, I slide the note through the shredder, listening to proof of the biggest mistake I’ve ever made being torn to shreds.
The flowers … they stay. Beatrice would have too many questions if they didn’t.
Beatrice returns a short time later. A few friends call to wish me a happy birthday, but there’s only one person who I’m really waiting to hear from—the one who should have called me first.
I buzz Beatrice. “Have you heard from Cole today?”
“No, but I’d think he’d be on his way back by now since your reservation is at eight.”
“I’m sure he’s busy wrapping things up,” I say, making yet another excuse for the way my husband is. After last night, I’m apt to be more forgiving since I need an abundance of forgiveness myself.
“He could walk in here at any moment and surprise you.” And, Beatrice believes in unicorns.
“Can you bring me the file on the Wells case? I think it’s on Cole’s desk. I might as well get started on that since it’s on his calendar for Monday.”
“Why don’t you go home? It’s your birthday.”
I bite down on my lip. It’s tempting, but what am I going to do once I get there? Sulk? Doesn’t sound like the way I want to spend my thirty-third birthday. “I’ll leave by four, I promise. Just get me that file.”
She hangs up, and I hear her chair slide as she stands from her desk. The phone rings not even five seconds later. “Got it!” I yell.
“Thank you!” she shouts back.
I pick up the receiver. “Thank you for calling Mason Law. How can I help you?”
“Did you get the flowers?” River.
My fingertips massage my temples. I feel a headache coming on. He’s quite possibly the first person I’ve ever met who I want to stay away from but can’t. “Yes.”
“Do you like them?” His voice is low—pained. I can’t tell if he’s drunk or just out of it. I have just as much guilt for leading him on as I do for breaking my marriage vows.
“They’re white.”
“If you don’t like them, I could send another color.”
I close my eyes at the sound of his voice this time. I see his lips. I feel his lips. The whole thing pulls me back under his spell.
“Pink? Yellow? Red?” he asks when I don’t answer.
The last choice does it. My eyes shoot open. That’s our color. This is wrong.
“Don’t call me again, okay? I can’t do this,” I say, panicked. Beatrice walks in the room, and I hang up the phone, oblivious to what he’s saying on the other end.
“Here’s the file,” she says before looking up. She halts in her tracks. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie, holding out my hand for the file.
“You’re a horrible liar,” she remarks as she walks out. I feel as if all I do these days is lie—hide what’s really going on inside. If I thought for one second it was going to make my life easier, I was wrong.
I inhale through my nose, letting it out through my mouth. It’s the technique my therapist taught me after my parents divorced when I was thirteen. I had puberty to deal with and didn’t need their shit too. It lessens my anxiety but doesn’t wash it away. Maybe it’s time I start seeing someone again. Maybe they’d be able to sort out what I can’t.
Needing to steer my mind away, I open the Wells file and start piecing through the documents. The first three pages is the contract we have most of our clients sign, but at the top of the fourth, a name catches my eye. I read down a couple lines, but then my phone buzzes.
“Yes?” I ask, still trying to read.
“The man you’ve waited all day for is finally on the other line.”
My emotion can’t decide between a wince and a smile. This will be the first time I talk to him since I, well … since I kissed another man.
I reach for the phone slowly, taking another deep breath to keep my voice even. “Hey, stranger. I’ve been waiting for you to call.”
“Sorry, babe. We had a hearing this morning that ran over.” There’s a pause. He breathes heavily on the other end of the line. I’m not going to like what he has to say next, and he knows it. “Marley?”
“Yeah?” He rarely calls me by my name.
“We have a lot of work to do before next week’s closing arguments. That was apparent after today.” Another pause. My heart sinks even further. Lawyers are good at cutting to the chase, but he’s beating through a whole line of bushes. “I’m going to have to stay and work with the team this weekend.”
My face burns red. “Damn it, Cole. It’s my birthday. Can’t you fly back for part of the weekend, at least?”
I hear him sigh on the other end. “I wish I could, baby. I had plans for tonight … to make your night special, but we can do it next weekend.”
Closing my eyes, I take a few seconds to release some of my anger. This is the first time in eleven years we haven’t spent a birthday together … that I’ll spend mine completely alone.
Before I can reply, I hear a woman laughing in the background. Glass clinks, and, if I’m not mistaken, faint piano music plays. “Where are you at?” I ask, standing to stare at the ocean.
“We walked to this little pub down the street to strategize. It’s been a long week, and we all needed a few drinks.”
My anger rises even more; so much for releasing it. “You can go have drinks with your colleagues, but you can’t fly home for the night to spend time with your wife on he
r birthday?”
“I’m so sorry. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to make it up to you.” I want to believe him, but there’s not enough remorse in his voice. Not this time.
“I would have flown there to be with you,” I admit.
“If you want me to try to catch a flight—if it’s that important to you—I will. Just say the words.”
When you want something so badly from someone, but you don’t feel like they’re invested in giving it to you, it doesn’t mean shit. He might as well stay where he is.
There’s more laughter. I hear Cole’s name being called in the background … by a female with a quiet, sultry voice.
“I’d hate to be the reason you lost your case. Besides, it sounds like you’re having a lot of fun,” I finally answer back.
“Are you sure?” He sounds relieved. The jerk actually sounds relieved.
I turn back around, staring at my white tulips. “I’ll take a friend to dinner. Besides, I’d rather not spend my birthday with a man who’s relieved I gave him an out. Have a great fucking weekend, Cole.”
It’s not the first time in our marriage I’ve hung up on him. It’s immature. It’s childish. Frustration made me this way.
I sit back in my seat, staring off into the distance. There comes a point where you don’t think things can get any worse, and they do. I gave him one more chance, and he just blew it.
Beatrice comes walking in, stopping suddenly when she sees the look on my face. “What’s going on?”
“Cole isn’t coming back this weekend,” I answer, still staring off.
“He’s not coming back for your birthday?” She sounds just as surprised as I was.
“Nope.”
“Do you need me to cancel your reservation?
“Nope. I’m going to take a friend.”
She nods. “Another delivery came for you.”
I don’t even flinch. I’m still processing where my marriage went so wrong—at what moment it turned.
“I don’t know if you have room on your desk, but I’ll bring them in,” she adds.
I say nothing as I watch her leave out of the corner of my eye.
She walks in with a colorful bouquet of tulips. They’re hard to ignore—at least fifty in yellow, red, pink, purple, and orange. She sets them down on the opposite corner as the white ones and steps back, taking me in.
“Do you want me to call your husband and verbally twist his balls?”
“Beatrice!”
“What? I hate seeing you like this, and to be quite honest, it’s the only way I see you these days. He’s starting to remind me of his father.”
His father’s history isn’t a secret. Cole told me all about it when we were dating. Three wives, each marriage a little shorter than the previous because he couldn’t make time to just live life. In other words, he was never home.
“I’ve got it handled,” I reply, waving her off. In actuality, I have no freaking idea how to make this better … if I can even make it better … if I should even try to make it better. One more chance … that’s what I told myself. “Why don’t we close up shop in thirty minutes and get out of here for the weekend. I’d love a nap before I go out tonight.”
“I won’t argue with that.” She turns to walk out, but before she reaches the door, she says, “You do need to talk to him. This isn’t right.”
“I know. Thanks for everything, Beatrice. I mean it.”
I think back to the first birthday Cole and I spent as husband and wife. He told me he had to be in court late that afternoon, and he’d meet me at home. To my surprise, he’d layered a path of red rose petals from the front door to our bed. We made love … God, did we ever make love. Back then his desire was centered on me—on making sure I was satisfied. We ate dinner in our robes before heading upstairs for another round. It was perfect … it was us. At least the version we used to be.
Shaking the thoughts of what was from my head, I glance over at the colorful flowers that cast a shadow over half of my desk. The writing on the envelope is the same as the first. I open it with a good idea of whom it’s from.
I grab my phone from my desk. My fingers tremble as I type.
Marley: Do you have plans tonight?
He reads it, and there’s a short pause before he begins to type. What if his offer no longer stands?
River: Are you talking to me?
Marley: Unfortunately, yes.
I tease to mask my nerves. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done.
River: I have plans, but I’d cancel them for you.
Marley: Pick me up at 7:30? I have a reservation at The Hideaway.
River: And your husband is okay with this?
My husband isn’t here. He won’t know, and a huge part of me is wondering if he even cares. As for guilt … rage has replaced that.
Marley: He didn’t make it back to town.
River: So, I’m second choice?
Marley: Take it or leave it.
I don’t even know who I am right now.
River: I’ll take you any way I can.
I leave it at that, powering down my computer and tucking some of the files I’d been working on into my desk drawer. When my fingers touch the Wells file, I consider staying a little while longer to thumb through it but tuck it into my bag for weekend reading instead.
Beatrice follows behind me, locking the door to our office suite. “I hope you have a nice evening. I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
“I already have other plans,” I announce, putting on my sunglasses.
“Well, then,” she says. “Have a great night.”
I hope I’m not making a mistake. River is company—interesting company—and he’s the only person who veils the problems nothing else can. He’s dangerous. His intentions aren’t good, but tonight is my birthday. I can be selfish if I want.
SIX. THAT’S HOW MANY TIMES I picked up my phone to cancel dinner with River.
Six. That’s how many times I tucked it back in my purse and continued to get ready.
This is wrong—in my heart I know it—but I can’t stop it. River patches some of the holes. He gives me something to look forward to. He makes me feel alive again.
Cole didn’t even wish me a happy birthday. He didn’t send a vase of flowers. It might as well have just been another day.
By 7:30, I’m sitting on the couch ready to go. Doubt creeps as the minutes tick by. What if he decides not to show? Is he punishing me for the other night?
At 7:44, lights finally flash in my front window. I stubbornly wait for a knock on the door.
My heart thumps with every passing second. This is wrong—going out with him again—but I can’t stop myself. I need a little River Holtz in my life.
The knock sounds. I stand, steady myself, then slowly walk to the door, clutching my purse to keep my hands from shaking.
Sexy defined is standing on my doorstep in a pair of fitted jeans, a white button-up, and a black suit jacket. A single white tulip rests between his fingers.
“I swear, every time I lay eyes on you, you look even more beautiful. How is that possible?”
My eyes meet his. “Do you use that line often?”
His free hand wraps around my back, pulling me to his chest. “I never see the same woman enough to say that line.” He loosens his grip, scanning the length of my body. “A woman dressed like you is looking for attention, and beautiful, you have every ounce of mine tonight.”
I nibble on my lower lip as I glance down on the white, off-the-shoulder Boho sundress that barely skims my upper thigh. It’s the same one Cole requested I wear; he’s getting his wish. “I bought it for my birthday. Couldn’t let it go to waste.”
His arm tightens around me again. “Happy Birthday, Marley,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing my ear.
“Thank you.” I subtly lean my head against his. This … I could stay like this for hours.
“We should get going,” he says, not loosening up on me one
bit. “It’s supposed to rain.”
Lonely Marley wants to skip dinner and let River Holtz hold her like this until the sun comes up, but something tells me River doesn’t draw the line at cuddling.
“Okay,” I mumble as he finally pulls away. He wraps his hand around mine, leading me to his car. “Are you going to tell me what’s up with all the white tulips?”
He laughs, opening the door for me. “I asked the florist for a good sorry-I-fucked-up flower. He suggested white tulips.” He hands me the one in his hand before closing my door and running around the front to his side.
“So what’s with this one?” I ask as soon as he climbs in. “There’s at least thirty of them on my desk.”
“It’s for being late.”
“Why does it feel like you’re treating this like a date?”
He shifts the car in reverse, eyes catching mine briefly. “Because that’s pretty much what it is. Guy ditches his T-shirt for the night. Girl puts on her best dress. They set a time, and he picks her up. It’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure this is a date.” He pauses, but I can tell the wheels in his head are still turning. “I guess this would be our second date, which kind of sucks because I always get laid on the first.”
I’ve grown so used to his comments, this one just rolls off me. “Your ego must be taking a hit.”
“Beautiful, you could take a large fucking bite out of that thing, and it would still be huge.”
“Are you ever serious?”
“What? You think I’m teasing?”
I shake my head, watching the first raindrops hit the windshield. “Does it bug you that your baby is going to get all wet?”
His warm hand covers my bare knee. I jerk my leg, but he pulls it back. It’s not long before I relax into it. Simple touches … I really do miss them. “I’m not really concerned about my car. It’s not wearing a thin white dress.”
“I didn’t know it was supposed to rain.”
“Yeah?” he croons, his fingers slipping up my thigh ever so slowly.
I ache to be touched … to feel wanted. When he reaches mid-thigh, I close my eyes. His fingertips circle my upper thigh, slowly inching my skirt up. Desire radiates. He caresses everywhere but there as I bite down on my lower lip to stifle a moan.