Slip of the Tongue (Slip of the Tongue 1)

In Nathan’s face just now, I saw real pain from my accusations. I should’ve trusted my gut. He wouldn’t betray me, but he isn’t innocent in all this. He tested my limits, and this is where it’s gotten us. The last few weeks, I’ve lost sight of us—myself, our relationship, and him, the man he really is. I could lock him in a room with Cindy Crawford and give him free reign. He wouldn’t touch her. But me—not me. In my blind rage, I put my own sins on Nathan’s head. Would Nathan ever understand how desperate I must’ve been to react that way?

I inhale a few more times and return to the table. Amelia and Misty have ordered food. They’re all business, except when Misty turns to me and asks, “Is this the best fucking pastrami you’ve ever had?” followed by, “And if you think I’m holding an event within a mile of Trump Tower, you’ve lost your damn minds.”

We laugh, talk business, and bullshit back and forth. Misty agrees to give AVEC a try. Once we’ve shaken hands and Misty shows us her red-bottomed shoes on her way out the door, Amelia and I melt into our seats.

“Fuck,” she says.

I nod slowly. “Yeah.”

“We pulled it off, though.”

“No thanks to me.”

“True.” We exchange a smile. “I’m kidding,” she says. “You did great all things considered. Misty is a known theater buff, and that shit was better than Broadway.”

I laugh a little despite myself.

“So what the hell happened?” she asks.

“Remember my friend? The one with the cheating husband?”

“Right. The friend.”

“Turns out, her husband wasn’t cheating. Turns out, my friend was completely wrong and made an ass of herself in front of a bunch of people.”

“Sadie . . .” Amelia studies me. “When I confronted Reggie, same thing happened. He denied it. Made me feel like a complete loon. Turns out, not only was I right, but I didn’t even know half of what was going on. Men who cheat are master manipulators. Are you sure he isn’t lying? Who was that girl?”

“Oh. My. God.” I sink in my chair and put my face in my hands. “Gisele. We’ve known her a long time. My outburst was totally unwarranted. I’ll have to send flowers.”

“Or the whole flower shop,” Amelia suggests.

I grimace. “It was bad.”

“Do you need to be excused for the day?”

I give her a pleading look. “Please don’t make me. I’ll just sit and stew until Nathan gets home.”

“Your call,” she says, and we stand.

As we head back to the office, I pray for a boatload of work to keep myself occupied. Because each time my mind drifts, I replay my conversation with Nathan. I don’t believe in my gut that he’s been unfaithful, but in a way, I wish he were. Because the alternative leaves me with a sinking feeling. If he isn’t neglecting our relationship because he’s found someone else, then it means to him, the only problem is me.

TWENTY-SIX

On the way home, I stop for takeout. Nathan and I may have a long night ahead of us, and I don’t know that I’ll want to make food once we get started. It’s bright as day underground on the subway and dark when I come up the stairs. New York can be stark—a peaceful cluster of trees sandwiched between concrete slabs. A passing stranger’s hello on a bad day that can feel like a raft in deep waters. Sometimes the sinking sun streaks the sky red, purple, and orange, reflecting off mirrored skyscrapers and blanketing the city. It forces you to stop—walking, driving, hailing, talking—and look, but only for a second, because there’s somewhere to be.

I spot Finn outside of a market on our corner. He waves with a plastic bag in his hand. “Hi, beautiful.”

I slow down. Finn’s the most shameful part of this—the affair is bad, but the hypocrisy worse—and still, I stop for him. He doesn’t feel anything other than warm and golden. “Hello again.”

“And again and again.”

He leans in to kiss my cheek, but I pull away and mumble, “Sorry.”

He straightens up. “Can I walk back with you?”

In my pocket, my fingernails bite into my palm. I shouldn’t, but I can’t tell him no. I want to spend a few minutes numbing myself with him.

“Or should I stay a few feet behind?” He pretends to check out my ass. “I really wouldn’t mind.”

I crack a smile. “Come on.”

It’s almost a block to our building, less than five minutes. He doesn’t waste any time. “When can I see you again?”

I look at the ground as we walk over brittle leaves and pockmarked concrete. Nighttime in the city is filled with light. I don’t even know where it comes from half the time. “You’re seeing me now,” I say.

“It’s not good enough. Hours away from you are beginning to feel too long.”

I rub my brow. Between Nathan and work, I’ve only thought of Finn abstractly today, as one half of the affair. Yet, being around him now, this afternoon already weighs a little lighter on my shoulders. Finn has a calming effect on me. He’s adoration, passion, and promise. There are no wounds between us too easy to open. No words flung that would’ve been better left unsaid. “I had a rough day.”

“Did you? Tell me about it.”

“No time,” I say, looking ahead.

“Then come over.” He bumps me with his shoulder. “I have wine. Once you’re loose, I’ll massage the day right out of you.”

“That sounds nice,” I admit, but I don’t even have to think about it. Nathan will be home by now. As much as I’d like to avoid the aftermath of today’s argument, I hold on to the hope that I’ll come out of it with a clearer understanding of where his head is. “I can’t, though.”

“Are you all right?” he asks. “Did something happen with—him?”

“No.” For whatever reason, I’m suddenly protective. I’ve said enough about Nathan to Finn the last couple weeks, and I’ve had enough spectators for one day. This, whatever’s happening, is between Nathan and me. “It’s just work stuff.”

“Let me guess. Boss problems?”

“A little,” I say, because there’s some truth to it. She rode me a little harder than usual once we got back from lunch. “She can be tough.”

“Amelia, right?”

I glance over at him. Her name out of his mouth surprises me, like it’s a word I’ve never heard before. “How’d you know that?”

He shrugs. “Researching the company for our photo shoot. Work’s a big part of your life. I’m interested.”

I bite my lip against the urge to warn him he’s coming on too strong again. I’m not in the mood to be pried open tonight. But just the thought of an argument tires me. “Oh.”

At the entrance to our building, Finn lets us in with his key. When we’re alone in the elevator, he touches my chin and lifts my head. “Hey. Sorry for your bad day.”

I take a lungful of elevator air and Finn. He smells like a lumberjack tonight, nature-fresh and a bit musky. Soothing. I rise up to kiss him because we’re almost at our floor, and I want to, and I think he’s trying to be respectful. His lips are more pliant than usual as he lets me take the lead.

We’re separated by the ding of the elevator. When I go to leave, he pulls me back by my wrist. He hesitates.

“What?” I ask.

“Remember that I’m just across the hall. Thinking about you. Wishing you were sleeping by my side. If you need me, knock.”

I hear him and the sincerity in his words. Being cared for, even for a few moments, is a relief from what I’ve been going through. I reach up and trace his mouth with my fingertips. “They’re the first thing I noticed about you back then,” I say. “Your lips make me weak in the knees, always.”

“Prove it.”

We kiss once more, two unfaithful mouths pressed together, and then walk to our respective apartments without another word.

The apartment is dark when I get home, and I wonder if Nathan is waiting in the bedroom. I’m unpacking the takeout bag onto the kitchen table when I ge

t a text from him.

Stopped downstairs for a beer.

My heart drops. He should be here. There are too many words hanging between us, both said and unsaid. Why doesn’t he want to fix this? Does he think it’s too late?

He’s at a bar that’s next to the corner market where I stopped to talk to Finn. We would’ve walked by it together. Normally, when Nathan goes there alone, he sits at the window to people watch or read a book. There’s a chance he saw us walk by. The Nathan I know isn’t the jealous type, but he has his limits. He makes his presence known when I encounter overly friendly men—at restaurants, on the train, trolling farmer’s markets. An ex-coworker made an inappropriate comment about my skirt once, so Nathan came over on my lunch break and set him straight. He wanted me all to himself then. But does he still?